An innocent enough number. Not quite five. A tad more than 3.
But 4 1/2 can mean the world.
For me, 4 1/2 describes the amount of time I was bedridden last week.
4 1/2 gathered into itself Wednesday evening, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and the majority of Sunday.
For almost 4 1/2 days I could not stand without intense vertigo. Walking the short distance to the kitchen, the bathroom, or the few more steps to reach my animals was a task that took all of my concentration. Inevitably, as the vision in front of me transformed into a glossy, watery mash, I had to stop, lock my knees, and hold on to something while shocking dizziness roared through my body.
For almost 4 1/2 days I could not stand without intense vertigo. Walking the short distance to the kitchen, the bathroom, or the few more steps to reach my animals was a task that took all of my concentration. Inevitably, as the vision in front of me transformed into a glossy, watery mash, I had to stop, lock my knees, and hold on to something while shocking dizziness roared through my body.
A year ago, I would have told myself that I was ok to take Friday's exam. I would have pushed, getting carefully into my car, parking in the same distant spot so I wouldn't forget where I had left my vehicle in the haze the follows hours of testing. I would ensure that I had at least half an hour to get from my car to the testing site in the building, so that I could sit and gather my thoughts and recover from the effort of walking and shoving the effects of moving somewhere deep under my skin.
Sometimes, the effort of keeping my Lyme in an absolute chokehold for four or more hours overwhelmed me, and my exam would shift under my fingers from comfortable, familiar material to strange, unsettling questions I could barely read, much less understand.
Sometimes, the effort of keeping my Lyme in an absolute chokehold for four or more hours overwhelmed me, and my exam would shift under my fingers from comfortable, familiar material to strange, unsettling questions I could barely read, much less understand.
The memory of those bitter days is burned on my mind.
I had an exam scheduled for last Friday. Instead of shoving physical pain and stupefying symptoms in some dark, hidden place in a ploy to seem normal, I asked for--and received--an alternative test date.
If you are going through hell, keep going.
~Winston Churchill
