This past week has been quite an emotional roller coaster. I’ve been sobbing and panicking and in tremendous pain, but I’ve also been supported and loved on all sides.
This happened to be the busiest week I’ve had in months, probably years, as every single day was filled with at least one if not two or three activities I had to show up for. For everyone who regularly goes to work an eight hour day and then comes home to deal with dinner and cleaning and running kids around and maybe an activity or two of their own, three measly things to do is quite laughable, I’m well aware. But for me, having one thing to do in a day is a busy day. As I write this I’m expecting my reading student to come over any time now and just an hour of reading with a delightful 10 yr old boy is stressful to me right now because it keeps me out of my pajamas and out of my bed.
Midway through my busiest week on record, I have the legendary Doctor’s appointment from hell. OK, not hell. Unpleasantville. And I have to spend the rest of the week on ALEVE instead of my normal much more hardcore drugs, which of course doesn’t work, so I’m writhing around largely unmedicated and in utter agony. In that condition, I obviously had to cancel the rest of my obligations for the week so that my friends and associates don’t have to see me turn possessed.
When my closest family members and the doctors that are supposed to be treating me continually show such a profound lack of understanding or compassion about my disease, it always shocks me to no end when I find it somewhere else. And this week I found it all over the place, just no where near where I was initially looking.
A friend from church not only took me to the doctors and waited for me with her two young kids in tow, but after she found out about how badly I was suffering, she brought me a pound of See’s chocolates and called to give the sweetest and best “cheer-up, you’re doing great!” speech ever. Another friend from church dropped by to check on me and gave me a kindhearted lecture that he shouldn’t have to hear about my setbacks from other friends. I should go straight to him so he could help! People were calling constantly to check up and offer to bring me popsicles or fetch prescriptions or to tell me that they loved me. Our Canadian friends took a break from their frantic packing schedule (they left for a cruise first thing the next morning) to call me once and then visit me later just to lend moral support. And then once I was finally able to get some medicine on board and feel well enough to leave the house and go to church, there was such a rousing chorus of “Hooray! Tresa made it to church today! We’re so happy to have her here!” that I felt deeply loved from head to toe.
Discovering how many people care about you and learning of the kindness in humanity, it almost makes all this garbage worth it. Well, at least bearable.