Getting through it.
There were moments where I honestly didn't think I'd survive. I'm not trying to be melodramatic. You are in pain so much larger than anything your disease has ever caused you, so much larger than any love or depression or fear you've ever known. And the drugs you're on to make it better make your brain so fuzzy that all you can think about is the now, the pain, the interminable black hole you're in. You know logically that you'll survive, but you can't imagine it. But this weekend, about 2 1/2 months after a 6.5 hour, four surgeon fiasco, I stood up all day and cooked Christmas dinner with my amazing friend. And it hurt a little and I had to sleep the whole next day, but I didn't have to take six pills to get through it. I ate ALL DAY LONG and didn't have to run to a bathroom every ten minutes because for the first time in years I could trust my intestines to work properly. When I survived losing my mom, I didn't know I could feel more lost than that. I didn't know that there was a deeper, blacker black hole to lose myself in. But I always climb out and I'm always better for it. I hope I never forget that. I hope I never forget how lucky I am to have had people who supported me when I couldn't stand. I hope you get the distinct blessing of knowing what it feels to be past the darkness, even if it's only for a little while.












