Two months and counting...

Last week I intended to give a two month update. I wrote a blog post later in the week, mentioning that I started my two-month anniversary with a blood draw at a local lab and then spent the rest of the day in bed with a terrible migraine. As I read over it, I thought it sounded like I was complaining. Anyway, who cares if I left the lab with with matching needle marks on each arm? Who cares the UPS drop off nearby doesn't open until 8:30 and that due to my driving restrictions, the tubes I must mail to Cleveland Clinic didn't make it out until lunchtime? Does it really matter in the scheme of things?

As the week went on I felt better. I still have an annoying dry cough but there is nothing to make me concerned otherwise. I am breathing well and completing every day tasks. The body aches and the side effects from the medications are tolerable. As I resisted publishing my blog post, I learned of two new deaths among those on my support group. And, one of my best friends is in the hospital again, with health issues so few can imagine. The blood draws? Over it. The migraine? It dissipated. And, I now know not to show up at the UPS at 8 a.m.

And, what about that update I promised? The coordinator called later in the week and said the bloodwork is fine and there are no changes at this time. I can continue complaining about the small stuff if I wish.

A filter...

In her book Living With the End in Mind, Erin Tierney Kramp explained that before she was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, she and her husband Doug "generally felt caught up in the whirlwind" of their lives. After diagnosis their various responsibilities did not disappear but they "had a new filtering mechanism for deciding what to take on each day." By acknowledging death and living with "the end in mind," Erin felt they had grown closer as a couple and became better parents. "We wish everyone could get the perspective of having a life-threatening diseases without having to suffer from the disease itself," she wrote.

Despite the mourning and the loss, I am experiencing a paradigm shift that feels important and healthy. It has a lot to do with the filtering system Erin explained. How I view the world, my life, and everything around me is affected by this disease and my current state. It goes back to the Spoon Theory I explained in an earlier post. Once I faced a limited amount of spoons--time, energy, resources--I had to focus. I had to slow down. I had to prioritize. I had to accept help. It is then, I realized, that I was watching the whirlwind, for once, standing a far distance from the mighty winds. And now I realize that some of that stuff blowing about, really didn't matter.

Now I have a filter. A gift, really.