That’s what I say anyway… I’m fine, I’m good, I’m on the mend and my personal favourite, I’m getting there! I am too, my body is very slowly recovering but I’m not the same. My lungs are struggling on a daily basis. I have a new diagnosis of asthma, I can’t tolerate much dairy as it make’s me cough, and sets it off. I have scars from wounds that I don’t remember getting. Im missing at least a month from my memory, and I struggle with concentration and short term memory problems, including getting the right words out and in order.
I feel guilty for putting my family through it all. I know it’s not my fault but that doesn’t stop the guilt.
I have actually come to realise it’s some sort of grief.
You get rushed to hospital and told you probably won’t survive. Not to mention all the horrible things I saw in there. Then I was put in a coma and and nearly a month later I wake up. I couldn’t walk or talk. I had to re-learn everything, I can get over that. I think.
What I’m struggling with is the change. Life isn’t a walk in the park anymore, I don’t think I could even go to the park unless I knew it was 100% disabled friendly. I can’t even go to my local high street in my wheelchair as in the council’s wisdom they put in cobbles to make it “pretty”!
I realise I’m grieving, I didn’t die, and I’m a survivor, but I’m not ok. I feel bad because I survived and thousands didn’t. I know I should be grateful, and I am. I know I’m lucky but It wasn’t just luck. It was the Dr’s and nurses. The brilliant care I received. The fact that Martin kept me going while the paramedics were on their way. But I still feel shit. I’m so bloody angry. Why did I have to be so impacted when others weren’t. Last night I even wondered why I’m still here. Would it be better if I had died? At least then the kids and Martin wouldn’t have to put up with all the shit this illness has thrown our way. I have those thoughts very rarely. Then I feel guilty for thinking it because so many people have put so much effort into my recovery, and so the thought process goes back around and I feel guilty for thinking Martin and the kids would be better off because I realise the pain that would cause.
So as I’m operating on the thought process that I’m grieving, I thought I would explore that a little.
There are 7 stages of grief.
Shock and denial. This is a state of disbelief and numbed feelings.
Pain and guilt. ...
Anger and bargaining. ...
Depression. ...
The upward turn. ...
Reconstruction and working through. ...
Acceptance and hope
Apparently they don’t come in order and you jump backwards and forwards a lot.
Shock and denial:
I’ve definitely done shock and denial. The denial manifests as the feeling of attention seeking, say if I need to use my oxygen in public. Or I feel over dramatic in my wheelchair even though I need it. I can’t bear the staring and sympathy ie “of course darling” and “come through sweetheart” etc. It makes me cringe! I can cope with someone catching my eye and looking away. Or kids wondering why I look like Scuba Steve! But I feel like a false disabled.
For months I’ve been saying it hasn’t affected me emotionally, it’s kicking in now though so I’m assuming that one’s passing.
Pain and guilt (numbed feelings):
see above! I feel guilty about everything, even surviving. I even spoil the kids loads because I feel like I need to compensate for all the shit!
I still feel a bit bad using the easy access till and jumping the queue or parking in a disabled bay. Although that’s quite fun with the ignorant people… I wait as we pull up in Martins modded MINI for people to give us the death glare then I casually pop the blue badge in the window… disabled’s can have nice cars too people!! We don’t all drive around in the Popemobil! I feel guilty as Martin is my husband, my boyfriend. I feel guilty that he has to be my carer, I feel guilty as Izzy has to help us out financially and physically. I feel guilty that they have both lost their mum as I was. Im sad most of the time because I miss me, I miss the me I was. There’s a song from the musical waitress. She used to be mine. That’s the song that best describes how I feel.
Anger and bargaining:
Angry? Yes… I am so frigging angry. It comes out mostly when I come into contact with anti vax idiots… or people who think covid is made up/ not that bad/ and or a conspiracy.
God help anyone who dares to say this in my presence. If I can’t convince you with my horror story or pictures, then I’ll give up and succumb to the fact that you can’t argue with stupid and hopefully natural selection will sort you out!
Depression
Yes lol. See above… I put a brave face on it but I have suffered with depression and generalised anxiety disorder since I was a teenager anyway. I’m on meds. They help.
Reconstruction and working through.
Does writing this blog/diary count? Im definitely working through everything by writing it down and getting it out of my head. It really does help too.
The last two, no I don’t think I’m there yet.
Lucy Jones (waitress) she used to be mine.
The old me.
I’ve read through it all. Everything you say is profound and most definitely accurate. You’re on the right path but they’ll be hundreds of lanes that are not shortcuts but after the Lane you’ll get back on the path until you hit another lane, and so on. One day though, you’ll stay on that path and no more lanes will appear. Goodness knows how long that will take but you have the right team around you for that to happen. What you have been through and continue to go through is some scary arse shit! Anyone that ‘doesn’t believe’ is, in my opinion, simply in denial. Denial that anything this bad can happen in this day n age. Well that or…