Since having my injury from my scooter accident last week, I confess, I hadn't been feeling like myself and my chest has suffered notably, what was a chest cold seems to be attacking a bit harder than it was and I was feeling awful in a word. Over the last few days, it has been nothing less than a small mercy that I haven't been back in A+E from my asthma becoming more and more ferocious. Last night though, I realised just what being in love and having someone who loves you with every fibre of their being feels like.
Love is doing the little things that you appreciate. When you fall asleep on the sofa together, and that person wraps you up in their arms and just watches over to make sure you're safe. Love is gently helping to tuck you in to bed and making you endless cups of tea just so that you don't have to run around when you don't feel well or watching films and talking late in to the night about music, games and other such things. Last night, I was really feeling unwell. If it hadn't have improved much more than it was, I would have had to take Jace to the first hospital run, the thought of that used to scare me. It is scary to show someone that a part of being you involves that anxious wait, those horrible sounds and seeing you in that state and in that much pain. I was anxious when Becky first saw it, I was terrified when S saw her first asthma attack and hospital admission, but I soon learned that it wasn't something to be scared of, it is just a unpleasant side of my life.
When I actually started having an attack, bearing in mind that Jace has seen some of my smaller attacks and has witnessed asthma in his brothers, he was so calm. So gentle. So supportive and loving as he helped me to set up a nebuliser and get it running, once it was finished, he made sure I was comfortable in bed to rest and we lay in bed watching films, even if I dozed off for a little while, we just lay together. One film we watched last night was "Wreck-It Ralph" which I had never seen, I enjoyed it thoroughly! For that brief couple of hours, I was happily lying with my boyfriend doing normal things that boyfriends and girlfriends do. I felt safe and despite having to use my stronger pain meds to be comfortable, I felt like I was in a good place. I had a taste of the wonderful life we have ahead of us when he does finally move in here with me. I don't think I wanted that moment to end, it was just so lovely. If it had have ended up in us going to the Alex, we probably would have taken our DS and 3DS and the laptop and he would have made it a nicer experience.
The funny thing actually, going to the hospital with Becky, S, or even Nat, I have seen that it isn't a scary place and the prelude to worse things when I got home. I used to be so terrified of asking for help because, even though at the time things were usually at life or death point, not because of what would happen at the actual hospital, but the events of what would happen after getting home. Now what awaits me is usually a nice cup of tea (or if I've been away for a few days, a nice hot bath), being tucked up in to bed and encouragement to rest, heal and allow myself a few days to get back on to my feet slowly. The process of recovering from asthma attacks is rough and when you live on a constant barrage of them hitting you left, right and centre, it is something that never seems to end and it can leave you feeling like you're on a knife edge and ready to just pack up and say "fuck this shit, I'm done." I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't ever felt that way or even attempted it at some time. There are days where I do feel like I have had enough of this now. Enough having to talk to doctors, enough of having to shovel in a load of pills, enough of waking up at stupid times just to neb or throw another few pills down. It's not easy. At times, it's anything but fun. But you know why I keep coming back and fighting another day? That would be my dedication to keep going no matter what and no matter how hard things seem. Nothing ever is as hard as we think it is anyway, but that's not to say that it's all sugar and rainbows either. What makes it easier is the friends we cherish and the people who help us through the tough times, knowing that when it's their turn, we will do the same for them.
I think, sometimes I worry that things aren't going to get much better and that I am never going to shift this thing, or if I do shift it, then it will just be a matter of time until more of these infections creep in and get the upper hand over me. As it is, it has been a year and this pattern has been a constant, frustrating thing and it has been made worse by a lot of things changing in my life. The stress of organising cover for when Becky left, the stress of money worries, one thing after another breaking down and either needing repairs or replacements, future medical treatments that if I am honest, scare me because I don't know what's going to happen. All I know is that it is going to be a long, scary and painful road, but the light at the end of the tunnel is going to be that no matter what I have to face over the next year, I am going to have Jace and he will be there, with gentle hugs, making sure I can rest and sleep, I'll have the pigs to offer me comfort and of course the wonderful safety net of some of the best friends a girl could ever wish for.
To my friends, I am thankful to have been given such a gift. Some of my older friends particularly, who have been there through everything and anything and we all grew up together. My newer friends (even if some of you live far away from me) are amazing and I love them all dearly like brothers and sisters, surrogate mothers and even some that feel like fathers or uncles towards me. To the small family I am in contact with who are never too far from my thoughts (including my older brother who has always been there for me). And of course to my readers, for reading my anecdotes and probably finding the humour in a lot of what goes on. You guys are all awesome and your support helps me more ways than you could ever know. It's strange to think that this blog is nearly 4 years old now and has been a constant chronicle of life in my rather strange and often confusing world.
3 years ago