My chronic-illness crash came the day my husband fell. Three days earlier we’d driven to Willamette Falls hospital at five in the morning so a surgeon could repair his epically misshapen spine. Ed’s post-surgery recovery had proven challenging; but on this morning as he shuffled from the bedroom to the bathroom with the help of a walker, I watched as he began to shake. Then as I implored, “Don’t fall. Just don’t fall,” he went ashen and crumbled to his knees. Two hours later, the same thing happened again. Each time, I held up the weight of his body against my legs so he would not fall backwards, anchoring him, knowing that if he fell backward his pain would be severe—not to mention how it would impede his healing. Eventually, Ed stabilized and with the strength of his arms and legs, pulled himself up. He did not fall again.
Weeks earlier I was tested for lupus (“wolf” in Latin) and had most of the signs. But it wasn’t until I crashed, following those stressful few days, that the “working diagnosis of lupus” and what it would entail for my life, came frightfully clear. Where in the months prior I’d experienced all-over joint pain for long spells, immediately after this experience and for several days I started to hurt all over, every minute, every day, in every joint—from my knuckles down to my toes, and every joint in between. Movements I’d always taken for granted, such as rolling over in bed or reaching to pick up my laptop, caused wincing. Fatigue made a walk to the kitchen a slog through Amazonian quicksand. The inflammation even reached my eyes and one ear. If I started to feel a slight reprieve and tried to resume “getting a few things done,” I’d slide backward. I realized the only way to deal with the autoimmune-induced inflammation of lupus was to rest until the flare up of symptoms subsided. Intuiting it would take a while, I cleared my calendar for at least two weeks… {Read remainder of column on Patheos HERE.}
I feel like it's almost impossible to have genuine connection with someone where there isn't mutual vulnerability. Definitely any connection I've made that was impacting had vulnerability at the core. Thanks for your great comments, Sylvan.
Thank you for being a beacon of truth by honestly sharing your struggles with long term health issues( the wolf at the door). My heart feels this.
It’s almost seems impossible in our Western culture to hold space for human vulnerabilities. At the same time I discovered those very same vulnerabilities connect me with grace, humility and especially love, definitely not found in the ever ascending capitalist myth of progress.
I’m finding over my lifetime that I connect more profoundly with my true self and others through my human vulnerabilities than my fleeting successes. (My 20s as compared to my now 70s)
May you live in muscular clarity and abounding in unceasing great love all the way down to your cellular level.
Sylvan