Yesterday I woke up an hour late and subconsciously sabotaged my morning in order to avoid the gravity of an important doctor appointment.
I arrived sweaty and tired, and my doctor asked how I was feeling. I calmly began to tell her that I had been in quite a lot of pain for the last week. I could see a level of understanding in her eyes that both alarmed and comforted me. She told me that she was surprised I wasn’t suffering a bit more. My blood tests look fantastic, aside from the fact that they came back positive for 3 different indicators of rheumatism. The finality of the diagnosis was jarring. I listened and wondered why I didn’t prepare myself this morning and I felt a sudden urge to sob. I held her eye contact with my teary eyes; I kept it together and when I left the hospital I cried a lot.
I think it’s fair to admit that a large part of me hoped that my condition would have been something silly like eating too many bananas, or high amounts of aluminum in my blood from the aluminum bracelets I wear every day. I’m not kidding–a good part of me blamed aluminum. I also kind of knew it was something more serious.
After I left the hospital I went to a puppy store and played with puppies.
I spent a day thinking a lot and I’ve settled on a thought: there will be more good in my life as a result this. I’ve found a new fragility–I feel more open and vulnerable to the world, more willing to accept love and help. My mind is inviting me to be more in-tune with my body, to make decisions governed by health and living the best life rather than the most exciting life. It also invites more writing and reading, more champagne and art and cellos and drum&bass and dancing and fine dining and good love.