I finally read The Fault In Our Stars. And as I did, I found myself relating to her often. It's much like she said in the book about her pain. When you're a professional sick person, you read it and understand and agree almost instantaneously. When the pain is at its worse, you don't continue to cry or scream out. That only makes it worse. You rate it a 9, not a 10, because you know one day it will get worse. You put your mind on other things, you're courteous and polite and say thank you a lot and smile a lot because if you can do anything to take away from the pain, or at least not add to it, you do just that. You accept your defeat. You seek help from the doctors and you do what you can to not make it worse, to help the only way you know how. Doctors see that as having less pain, needing less assistance. They see it as strength by having less pain. But in fact it's quite the opposite. It's more pain. And while it is strength, it is strength in bearing and emotionally coping with the physical overwhelming, unbelievable pain. And oh trust me, it is MORE pain.
I've spent more than enough days of my life in hospitals: counting ceiling tiles, discovering the way the plastic strips are perfectly intertwined to hold the tiles up, passing in and out of awareness, a lot of nurses, a lot of thank yous, a lot of being poked and prodded. That doesn't scare me. It scares me more to think I can't remember my life before this. Of course I have memories, but I can't remember what normal feels like. THIS is normal. That scares me. But the process itself is, well, just...normal.
So I go about my "normal" life. I suppose to someone else, it may seem odd or interesting, but I've honestly lost the vision in even seeing that. It's quite boring and uneventful. One day, you're incredibly ill and preparing to die, and the next you're going to weekly doctor visits, pumping your body with meds, and unfortunately used to the pain and abnormalities of your daily life that you feel like you're really doing nothing. You didn't die. You're alive, but still too sick to feel alive and not exactly used to not dying. Sounds incredibly insane, I know. But not to me. I think that's where I am. Still sick, alive, and not quite used to not dying yet. Will "normal" EVER feel the same? I find a lot of doubt in that. But I believe I'm alive still to serve a great purpose for God though, so I actually really hope I'm right about that. Maybe "normal" for me was supposed to change forever. Maybe it already has. And maybe I've not only come to get used to the idea, but also to expect it. THIS is normal.
