At the end of April my husband and I were each diagnosed with unrelated illnesses (not Covid). Of the two of us, I was more able to function, so I cooked, did the laundry, and cared for him, even though I felt so ill I could barely stand at times. Neither of us could drive, so we relied on family and friends to drive us to doctor appointments and to the grocery store. Luckily, I was able to work from home, and my employer was very patient as I had to change the amount of hours I could work per week. I worked slowly, but diligently, and finished my work each day.
As the spring progressed, my husband got better, but my condition remained. He was soon able to drive and took over the grocery shopping. He also chauffeured me to doctor appointments, and when I was able, into the office to work a few hours a day. But healing for each of us was slow. All of May and June, we battled. Many nights I cried myself to sleep. I was scared. I’d never been through anything like this.
My condition included mysterious, undiagnosable dizzy spells, and reading, among other daily tasks, was very difficult. Many nights I couldn’t do much more than watch TV. I’m a casual baseball fan, and usually don’t keep up with scores and stats. But, to keep my mind occupied, I began watching Mets games at night. It gave me something to cheer about or something to rant about when they lost. After feeling nothing but fear and weariness for so long, it was my way back into feeling a range of wholesome emotions. I began to appreciate small moments, sharing an excited cheer with my husband when Pete Alonso hit a home run or admiring Francisco Alvarez’s acumen of the game, despite being a baby Met.
To encourage my body to heal, I took short walks in the afternoon or evening. I used a trekking pole to keep steady, and would only go out if my husband accompanied me. We followed our usual route, but shortened it a bit, keeping to our immediate neighborhood. This summer had seen both stormy, rainy nights, and ninety degree days, and I’m not generally a fan of temperatures over seventy degrees Fahrenheit. I’m one of those annoying people who can’t wait for Pumpkin Spice latte season. But this year I welcomed the scent of humidity and the cooling sweat on my brow. This year, the late sun on my shoulders and the sound of cicadas in the evening heat felt like a comforting lullaby. Hour by hour life crept back into our house. We had the stamina to cook, to stay up a little later and search for the Perseids. We laughed again.
My husband is now almost fully recovered, and my condition is much better. I’ve always considered myself someone who appreciated life, someone who never took anything for granted. But this experience changed me. I’m still looking forward to autumn, but I was forced to slow down, to really observe life and the magic all around me in ways I don’t think I would have noticed if the ability to live fully hadn’t been taken away. Every moment ticking by has become precious to me.
This past weekend I finally had the stamina to decorate my house. It was a wonderful reunion—me and all my autumn garlands. I had added some new ones to the mix which I’d bought at one of those fill-a-bag-for-$10.00 sales. I’d gone with my sister at the end of August. She offered to drive, and I thought it would help rid my mind of worry. By this time, my dizziness had lessened, and I managed a terrific fall haul despite some minor discomfort.
As I arranged each leafy garland and pumpkin, I took my time, tugging and untangling until the wiry branches did what I wanted. I added fairy lights. I admired the textures and sparkle, enjoying this yearly ritual in a way I hadn’t in years.
I’m not sure why this time I was ready to receive this insight—I’ve faced adversity before. But coming out of this storm felt different. I’m grateful for every cricket chirp, every raindrop, every new moon, every kernel of corn, every sunflower. I look at this adversity as a reset, a communication from the universe to wake up!
I’m still processing what all this means to me. I don’t ever want to go through this again, even though this is unrealistic. I’m sure I’ll face more difficult times. But I was given a chance to view life from a different angle. And going forward, what I ask for is grace, wisdom, and a dash of humility to keep me balanced.
Until next time,
Jan
*Click here to see my Instagram reel of some recent, small, precious moments. :) Enjoy!
I’m so relieved to hear that you and your husband are on the mend! Health scares are just awful -- I’ve had many in my life, and they do make you appreciate the world in a completely different way. Being grateful for small pleasures is a blessing because it means our eyes are fully open to beauty and wonder. That’s the silver lining to adversity 😊 Wishing you lots of abundance and good health this autumn and winter!
Glad to hear that you are both recovering, even if the process is slow! Health scares are no joke and have the ability to completely reorient your life in such a short time. I’m sure it’ll take a while to process, but it’s lovely that your viewing it with such grace!