There are soO many people now asking me if Im okay, asking whats going on, asking if I need help. So much so that my hp keeps beeping, bleeping and binging all the time. My WhatsApp is reading like a Twitter feed... messages just keep coming in and going down. My FB notifications is off the charts (I dont have Messenger so I cant check them from my hp) and every communication tool I have from WhatsApp to Viber to Telegram to Wechat to ChatOn has icons with hundreds of messages tagged to it. My emails are now in the thousands! Im overwhelmed by the love, concern and support showered on me by my friends. I am very blessed indeed. But overwhelmed... I am so sorry for not checking the overwhelming number of messages I receive (dozens in just a matter of days), and I have to admit, I dont know where to start. I feel loved and supported. And rather overwhelmed... So, THANK YOU! Thank YOU for the love, the concern and the support. I am such a lucky lucky sod to have soO many people so concerned and worried about me! And most importantly, for reaching out to me to generously offer me your time, your love and your support. Thank YOU! Truth is, it has reached a point where I am now unable to function properly without massive help. I was just about starting to feel stronger for about a month or two when suddenly, at the beginning of September, I started deteriorating quite alarmingly. These last five weeks have me at my worst in my 5-year battle to get better. Every movement is encumbered with invisible massive boulders attached to every part of me. Even raising my head from slumber requires a Herculean effort. Many times I fail to make it from my bed to the loo, or even off the sofa. And so my two amazing, wonderful maids take turns every week to literally almost carry me around the apt. They have been responsible for cleaning up the unholy mess of urine and blood, or sometimes vomit and poo too, splattered across hallways, bedroom and bathroom floors. And I have learned to forego shame, embarrassment and pride because there is no way I can allow them to do what they need to do in order to take care of me otherwise. I have learned to embrace support and am continuously reminded of the amount of humility required to allow support in this form. I have learned to be gracious and not argue when receiving. I am humbled. For the majority of you who dont know whats going on with me, I struggle with massive bleeding due to neverending heavy menstruation (something something hyperplasia-thingy); weakness due to severe anemia as well as fatigue and exhaustion linked to my hypothyroidism and myasthenia gravis (an incurable debilitating neurological illness that slowly shuts down the bodys organs from functioning); and a serious inability to breathe or swallow without choking, spluttering, gasping and wheezing due to a 13-cm tumour (5 inches, to my American friends) pressing onto my heart and lungs (and because of the anemia as well as the myasthenia gravis too, of course). It seems ironic that someone whos too weak to move around is often exhausted from this (barely) moving around. The irony is not lost on me. Where once I considered myself a rock of strength for others, I find myself struggling, and often failing, to find strength for myself. Where once I would hold others up, I am now forced to learn how to lift myself up. And its hard, I tell you. Its difficult to do all that when I am fighting depression, anxiety, agonising, excruciating pain and just plain wanting to breathe! I find myself spiralling ever so often into bleakness and hopelessness, powerlessness and darkness... I cry and I cry and often I dont even know why I cry. I suppose I cry because I am compelled to do so. Sometimes I give up on God as much as I give up on life. And yet. And yet... I somehow survive another day. And I go to bed every single night, and wake up every single day, beaming and grinning and sometimes laughing through my seemingly endless tears (while still gasping for air and choking on my own saliva). Truly smiling really, because I am very grateful and I feel very blessed that I am still alive. That even through the weariness, weakness, fatigue, pain, wheezing, gasping, choking and depression, the actual reality is that I. Am. Alive. And that I still have my head attached to my neck. My arms, legs and feet are where theyre supposed to be. My eyes and nose and ears are still working just fine. And I can talk, breathe (albeit with great effort) and laugh and cry and read books and watch my football and see and hear and twiddle my toes and play with my navel as much as any person can! My organs are still functioning... sloshing, beating and coursing around just as how theyre meant to... And I still have a full head of gorgeous, soft, silky hair on my head, stunning eyes that can still see the world while captivating, mesmerising and beguiling it, and a beautiful smile that still sparkles, shines, radiates and betrays a full set of teeth! I recently spent some time saying thank you to my body. It wasnt enough to just be grateful for my body. I felt it was necessary to tell it just how grateful I am for all the endless work and non-stop continuous effort it puts in to protect me and keep me alive. I suspect I am totally in awe and in love with my body simply because its the one thing that has stuck by me through thick and thin, through everything only to come out still fighting to keep me alive and lucid enough to watch my football team lose week after painful week... I am blessed. And I am grateful. And I know Ill be well one day. I just need to get past this..... After all, Liverpool Football Club is waiting for me to come rescue it from its recent pitiful showing... And I am convinced that I am the only one who can save them! YNWA! **peacelovefaith**
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 08:23:11 +0000
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