We are grieving the things we were used to having daily. We are grieving the freedom we had. When I say freedom I am not talking politically or liberties; I am talking about freedom from this pandemic. It is the pandemic that has taken away our freedom to run to the store for something trivial. It has taken away jobs and our freedom to quickly find financial resources/assistance. It has taken away the luxury of having fully stocked shelves with an abundance of non-essential items. We miss the salons. We miss the parks. We miss the gatherings. We miss knowing what tomorrow will bring. And everyone grieves differently.
You hear about the five stages of grief. When we think of grief, we typically think of death. That is not the only source of grief in our lives. Some grief we can overcome, but some is cyclical. The death of a parent never gets easier, it just becomes more distant when the tears run out. The loss of a close friend by moving far away is something we tend to learn to deal with and get past. That often comes by creative ways of staying in touch or finding another outlet. The grief of losing the championship in your favorite sport will fade. Losing so much to illness causes great grief. This grief tends to be cyclical. I can only speak for myself, but after becoming so sick it became a disability I deal with grief daily.
I had dealt with Hashimoto's disease since I was in 8th grade. I dealt with IC for several years. And I had learned to deal with Type I diabetes fairly well. They all frustrated me and caused grief, but I could cope with it. I was still able to be in school. I was still able to work. I was still able to eat regular food. I was still able to run and swim and play basketball. I was still able to be an over-achiever and proud of it. I thought I was just tired. I thought I was just stretching myself too thin. I brushed it all off thinking it was going to pass. I was wrong.
When I turned 25 I was living the life I had planned out. I was achieving the goals I had set for myself and finding new ones along the way. I am not good at sitting still. Then the wall came tumbling down the day I went to the doctor to express my exhaustion. Maybe my medication dosage needed to be changed. It had to be something simple. As I was talking to the doctor she stopped me and said, "I thought you were coming in to get disability paperwork filled out. I would normally tell people no on first request, especially without knowing the patient. You, my dear, need to go on disability." I am sure my face twisted.
I pushed back a little. I have always seen doctors as people of authority. I am not the type to resist authority. So I meekly asked her a million questions trying to understand why. It didn't matter. It had shocked and scared me enough. She said to quit school immediately. I was only a few weeks from my bachelor's so I said surely I could finish out the next few weeks. She said no. She worked in the same clinic building I did. She said I needed to take short term disability from work starting immediately. I know the whole time my face must have expressed shock and confusion. Then she began ordering tests and explaining in more detail her concerns.
I left her office holding myself together. I think shock was keeping me numb. I reported to my boss. That was my last day of work. I went home and emailed my professors. It was too late to withdrawal so I simply had to ride out the next few weeks with the grades I had already gotten through previous assignments. There were three classes I was not able to complete to obtain my degree. I was devastated. I still believed I would return to work in a few months and maybe finish out school. I just assumed I needed to get stabilized. I had no idea it was going to grow to the spider web it has become.
Months went on, test continued, and things got illuminated. I was sent to one specialist after another. I was rushed off to the Mayo Clinic. I was forced to go on permanent disability. More diagnoses rolled in, one after another. Then there was the trial and error phases of stabiliaing each condition. Within a few short months I had gone from a full-time working mother in college full-time to staying at home or living in doctors' offices. My diet was changed completely. My nightstand started to get filled with more prescription bottles. My freedom was slowly drifting away. Long gone were the days of spontaneity. Long gone were the days of competitive running. Long gone were the days of eating at a restaurant liberally. Long gone was everything I knew. The rug was ripped out from underneath me with no warning.
There were days of sadness. There were days of anger. There were days of confusion. There were days that were kind of OK. And there were days with these all combined. I became creative with my food so I wouldn't feel so deprived or separated from the norm. I bought yoga videos and starting taking long walks to replace the sports I was no longer able to enjoy. I surrounded myself with good friends and family that didn't see the sick, they saw Lauren. I prayed. I kept myself going, and still do, knowing that this pain will not be in vain. I will see the beauty of this mess eventually, I thought. No one around me really understood what I was going through and I had no idea how to express it. I also did not know what to do to reclaim myself. How do I find Lauren in this new normal? Will I ever be happy with it? 12 years later I can tell you it gets easier, but it is definitely cyclical.
It wasn't until I saw a therapist that I realized all these emotions were part of grief. I didn't think grief came from becoming ill. When she explained to me that I was mourning the life I was had, it all made sense. The Lauren that I once knew was gone. I needed to discover a new Lauren to help mourn what was now gone. Then I started analyzing everything. I was a double major in psychology and nursing so it made sense. As it became more clear I became more comfortable with the idea of grief. The thing is, I thought I would overcome it.
The reality is, everyday there is something new. When you lose a loved one or a tangible item it is final. When you lose freedoms it can be endless. As my diseases progress things get tougher. More limitations are brought on by simply progressing. My two most recent injuries are perfect examples. I know that I have accepted my diseases. They do not define me, they are just simply there. Ok. Got it. What I didn't realize is that I am not accepting the less common complications and progression. Somewhere in my mind I think I assumed because I am so diligent and disciplined none of that would come up. I thought I was above all that. I now see how delusional that was/is. I am now facing some real problems I thought only happened to other people.
This is much like the current crisis we are in globally and nationally. This illness that we do not understand has snuck in and taken over every aspect of our lives. It is affecting us as a whole yet individually at the same time in different ways. We have lost the freedom to simply run to the corner store for only milk or a soda. We have lost the security of knowing what we need will be at the store. We have lost jobs and opportunities. We have lost in-person contact, hugs, handshakes, etc. We cannot just go to the movies or a sit down restaurant. We have lost faith in our leaders. Yet we have nothing tangible we can fight, but one another. We need something to yell at, point a finger towards, blame. It is just this faceless, invisible, misunderstood virus with no emotions or thoughts or prejudices. Nothing we do will change its nature. We feel hopeless.
The truth is, there is something to fight. It is not the person wearing the mask. It is not the politician who speaks as if they know this illness like they know the enemies we fight in war. It is not the doctor or scientist explaining their findings to us. And it is not the people who are trying to keep us safe by setting guidelines. What we need to fight is the virus. COVID-19. It has a name. Its face is that of those it has infected. There is power in numbers. No single man has ever fought a war and won on his own. He has a team, a military, a weapon. Our weapon, for the current moment, is simple hygiene and wearing protective gear like masks. Soon our weapon will hopefully be a vaccine and better treatment options. We have to go through this methodically and not rush anything. If there is anything we all know, it is that rushing leads to mistakes/oversights and set backs.
I believe. I have hope. I have faith. We will get to the other side of this. I know for sure we will be facing a "new normal". We have to find creative ways to fill the voids we feel in our lives. We have to do it together though. It is a must. We cannot battle one another. We must focus our battle solely on the virus. We are all multi-layered people living in a nuanced world so we are going to be dealing with other issues beside and combined with COVID-19. But we must remember, the fight is with COVID-19, not with one another. I send out love, hugs, and prayers to all. I send out faith.
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