The Illusion of Colorlessness
“Shades of grey wherever I go The more I find out the less that I know Black and white is how it should be But shades of grey are the colors I see.” – Billy Joel
Life is not colorless, despite how it may feel. As we move from darkness towards the light, the shades of grey slowly regain bits of color, but no one said this transition was easy – or simple.
My last post was not exactly positive, and to be completely honest I’ve struggled all week to unravel the shades of grey to reveal that wondrous color. There was a glimpse of it on Friday when I discovered that I am authorized to reduce my physical therapy each week. Then I awoke Friday night with a persistent sore throat that has yet to pass, and although I realize this is a relatively minor glitch compared to everything else I endure, I cannot shake feeling of this snowball effect. After researching side effects of my antibiotics to determine if this sore throat could be linked to either of them, I realized just how severe some of the side effects can be. When I was younger, this would never have bothered me, but as I’ve started showing more reactions to more medications (likely directly correlated to the number that I’ve been prescribed recently), I am more concerned.
The reality is, as it occurred to me last night, color exists right in front of our faces. As much as I pine for the life I once knew, I must remember to live my life as it is today. I miss my husband, my family, my best friends. At one time I spent all of my time cooking and watching TV. It’s funny how the moment you lose the ability to do something all you desperately want to do is that one (or several) thing(s). Once I can walk for longer periods of time I want to walk the dogs, camp outside (friends, do not laugh at this one), climb a mountain, DANCE.
This is chronic illness. It brings great frustration and yet even greater appreciation – reflective appreciation for what you had as well as appreciation for all you have now and what you may regain in the future. I cannot even have an emotional breakdown without being reminded of the RSD (my foot turns red/purple right in front of my eyes and feels like fire), but it’s brought me closer to my family emotionally. Emotions. They are so difficult to control (particularly while on strong antibiotics), yet are clearly intertwined with this disease.
How, precisely, do you control what seems uncontrollable? Like most posts, I’ll tackle a question – this question – another day.
“There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow