I am feeling quite thoughtful today. It's a welcome change from the weeks and weeks of brain fog so thick that I forget what I am talking about mid-way through a sentence (my husband, thankfully, is very understanding when this happens).
I am trying to see my life from the outside for a bit, and I have to say it is a bit rough. I have let fear swallow me for a little while. I have just started to pull myself out of the fear quicksand in the last week or so, and look around me a little bit. I'm so glad I am able to do that.
What is happening now, in my head, is a kind of weird mesh of old fear-driven thoughts and a great wash of gratitude for the life I have. It makes for some pretty weird moments - a sweep of fear over possibly dying or having to deal with cysts rupturing on my ovaries for the rest of my life, then a great heart-sigh of gratitude for my husband and everything he does for me. I am a bundle of emotions at any given point of the day.
A couple of nights ago, I made the mistake of looking up ovarian cyst ruptures on the internet, mostly to see what treatments exist. What I found was an outpouring of fear and grief from other women who had experienced them - some who get them even worse than I do. One who waited for hours before going to the hospital, despite the pain not going away, to discover that she had been bleeding internally and had to receive a blood transfusion.
I have been receiving a lot of odd and sometimes conflicting information about cyst ruptures from doctors and nurses - one doctor assured me that I would never get internal bleeding from my cysts rupturing (although they did also mis-diagnose me at the time); another completely unable to give me advice on what I could do, but assisted me with stronger painkillers and a referral for an ultrasound.
The fact is, I am living in a place of fear almost all the time. But I have realised that I just can't let it overtake me. I do my best to acknowledge it when I feel it rising, and am practising meditation breathing as often as possible to get through pain. I am sad that this is happening to me, but I am also grateful for everything in my life - particularly the people (and animals) that support me as much as they can, and offer me solace when I can no longer carry my fear alone.
I wish that everyone with chronic illness, chronic pain, or ongoing conditions, could have (and recognise) their own support networks.
Love to all who read.