Thanks
@Anncomingtogrips......Yes, Susan's Sontag's description of illness is like entering a vast kingdom, or as I like to put it: A mansion with many rooms and we don't know what lies for us in each. We're wary, but have very little control over much of anything. It can be scary and there are so many rooms!
I've had this illness since the early days of AIDS (and of course we were immediately given the back seat of the bus), but I have learned this. Once we enter each room there is no going back to the one before it. We constantly have to readjust our thinking (our "feelers" perhaps?) and re-learn something new..
Two really wonderful things happened to me: 1. My husband who has no end of kindness; and 2., My neurologist who follows suit. I am most fortunate, and I realize it; and 3,. My friends who understand as much as possible about my illnesses and have been there for me in so many ways. Now I'm down to just two, most have passed on one way or the other, and death is no foreigner to me....my whole life, really. Like my family and my friends, it's another room that is presently unknown to me.
Like you I've had surgeries, different than today's I'm sure and now the illnesses have also been added to by others. I'm old, but then every old person has problems...don't they? I understand. Many are just beginning the journey and it's difficult.
Still, I've adjusted to the many rooms I've entered and though my world is smaller, my outlook is enormous. I no longer seek cures, it is what it is....but that doesn't mean I've given up on life. No, quite the contrary....we all live and we all die. I've had the burden of suffering great pain along with this illness, and yet still adjust to living with it.
35 years ago I never thought about getting old b/c the diagnoses were scary and I assumed my life would be short. From the beginning I thought I would die of AIDS b/c I was so ill and had a blood transfusion during surgery. That was immediately followed by recovering from two separate viruses but my four leaf clover had me on a treadmill of being passed from the kindest of young doctors until I found the one who could help. Oddly enough, if he hadn't volunteered in Central America he may never have known anything about this illness, as so many don't.
So now I'm 75 and my list is long like Santa's, but mine are serious illnesses. The early ones are contained in the very back and yes, I'm still a part of the joy of life. My children visit, my grandchildren are in college or in the teen years and my husband will turn 78 in the coming month or so. I'm joyous about what my life has meant, but more than anything the things I've learned and the person I've become.
I'm also conflicted spiritually....and I don't look at it as a bad thing at all. I have it, and that's all that matters....hopefully I'll find home within what I read and accept.
We're all different people, different personalities and some experience more anger than others, while some of us are capable of much giving of ourselves while accepting the sadness that dwells within. My world is smaller now....and as I look back on the past number of years, I didn't accomplish what I thought I would, but my accomplishments have been a giving of myself to others. I love the feeling and I can leave yesterday behind. It's simply a part of what has been my life.
Thanks for your input, and I sincerely hope you're surgery is highly successful. I can't imagine growing taller instead of shorter it must be a nice feeling to experience. I began life tall and have entered the world of petite sizes. Wherever we are on our journey, remember that others are just as bad or even worse off than we are. I've been fortunate enough to know quite a few of them. We all learn something from each other....we share, we're sad and we laugh. I wish you well and thanks for the link. Feel better; walk taller. Yours, Lenora