I'm currently glued to a book written by neurosurgeon, Dr Paul Kalanithi, "When Breath Becomes Air" (book cover appears above).
I cried buckets. It's very personal for me, reading his words, as I can really relate to his pain and struggle. You see, Dr Paul Kalanithi discovered he had lung cancer. His life went topsy-turvy after that diagnosis. It became a race for time he didn't have much left.
Having a terminal/critical illness really throws you off. You're never prepared for it. But when you're aware that you have it, priorities and perspectives begin to alter. There is this sense of urgency, you probably never felt before.
I totally understood what he meant when he wrote about having to let go of his "old" self, and having to find a new identity. I understand that I don't exactly have a terminal illness and my deterioration isn't rapid, but I do see changes in myself. Changes that I would love to not happen, but it's beyond my control - getting easily fatigued, frequent migraines, having difficulty with concentration and mental processing after a short span of time. I can no longer read "deep" books that I enjoy, only opting for easy reads that won't contribute to my migraines. My fingers have difficulty obeying me now, and sometimes they feel foreign as I attempt to play the guitar and they just seize up and aren't as flexible and quick as before.
One of the hardest decisions I had to make was to quit my job to focus on my recovery. For someone who loves her vocation and likes to keep busy, choosing to rest is a difficult struggle. It becomes especially tough when I see my peers being able to be successful in their careers or some may be indifferent and are not doing anything even though they have the means and health to.
Sometimes it makes me panic, "What do I do when my funds run out? Then what?"
Sometimes I have to face the question - "What if I don't get better? What if I can no longer work like I used to? What are my future plans? Am I getting ahead of myself?"
So many questions.
I know I have to take one step at a time, but I guess I've always felt more secure if I had some plans to fall back on. I do see that this has made me depend a lot more on God for providence. But me being human, there are times I worry.
Sometimes...and this may sound bad... but sometimes, I wish I knew how much longer I had left. Then I could better plan my time. Refocus. Reorganize. Do the necessary. The uncertainty of not knowing if and when I'd have a massive stroke, or when I will start deteriorating can be quite frustrating (it's a progressive disease, I will eventually deteriorate. In fact, I haven't exactly been feeling swell and dandy after my surgeries, so I'm still at risk). I find myself having to hold back from being involved in certain projects because it may cause harm to me. And I end up feeling restless. Doesn't seem at all that I am restful, huh?
It doesn't help when people tell me that I should work and not just sit around. It tends to burst open the can of worms that I've been trying to slowly deal with. Everytime, I will break down and cry. The frustration gets to me, when people question my "sabbatical" leave.
Anyway, I have not read the end of the book... but I can imagine there will be more tears shed. I had to take a break from reading it today because it was just too emotionally intense for me.
I'm going to bed. Writing this post has drained me of my energy. Something that probably wouldn't have been true in the past, but it's something I have to learn to accept now - my "battery" depletes rapidly.
No comments:
Post a Comment