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Thursday, May 2, 2013

An Informative Article by Jennifer Hamilton


Getting to the Root of RSD

Reflex sympathetic dystrophy (RSD) can affect both men and women and people of varied ages, from young children through to seniors. Like various medical conditions, the cause of RSD is not exactly clear and there may be a number of factors that contribute to its development. For some people struck down with it, there seems a logical explanation, but for others the cause for them appears a mystery. Here we take a look at some of the factors thought to contribute to the condition:

Following injury
A lot of the time RSD develops after some form of injury, with an accident or surgery often leading to nerve damage, which the scientific research quotes as being the case in around of 87% of those affected. In some cases, even what may have appeared a minor injury at the time, has been a sufficient trigger; something as simple as pressure on a nerve, as is the case in carpel tunnel syndrome, may also be enough to spark RSD. However, even when injury does appear to have been the contributing factor, there does not necessarily have to be any actual damage to the nerves for RSD to occur. What is definitely clear though is that the pain and altered sensation after whatever might have happened, continues and appears too great to have been due to the injury itself.

Infections
A range of infections have been linked to RSD. Both bacterial infections such as Lyme disease, syphilis and cystitis, and viral infections such as glandular fever, HIV and herpes can contribute to its development. In some people, when their body’s immune system fights the infection, it over-responds producing inflammation within the body, which can damage nerve fibres. Alternatively, the immune system may be triggered to attack the body’s own tissues, which may include the nerves; when this occurs, the protective casing around the nerve fibres is eroded, leading to widespread pain. This so called autoimmune damage may occur months or even years after the initial infection; obviously some people appear more vulnerable to this than others, which may be down to their genetics. Sometimes, when the infection has similar symptoms to RSD, as might be the case in Lyme disease, it is difficult to know exactly which is contributing to how you feel and which is the more dominant in the body.

Heart disease and stroke
While both these conditions might seem quite different from a physical injury or infection, they still appear to have the potential to lead to RSD; plenty of patients who have survived a heart attack or stroke can vouch for that. There are also cases documented in medical journals of how patients who have undergone procedures such as having a pacemaker or cardiac catheter fitted, have later developed RSD; though this may relate more to the operation rather than it being to do with the heart. How cardiovascular disease and RSD are associated is thought to be due to the reduced blood flow seen in the two conditions, with constricted blood vessels a key feature in RSD. As well as being a possible causative factor in RSD, the condition is known to worsen existing cardiac problems due to its effect on blood supply.

Smoking
A study from 1988, conducted by the Medical College of Ohio, was the first to identify a link between smoking and RSD as well as other types of lung disease; researchers found that 68% of those in the study with RSD smoked compared to 37% of the patients with other medical problems. A more recent study from Korea has also shown RSD to be significantly more likely in smokers. It has been suggested that smoking may increase the risk of developing RSD by increasing activity of sympathetic nerves – the ones that usually prepare your body to react if danger is looming – and by causing the blood vessels to narrow, altering blood flow. However, neither of these studies proves smoking causes RSD. Additionally, studies are yet to be carried out to see whether stopping smoking helps with symptom relief or disease progression in RSD. However, the other health benefits of quitting are undisputable, so breaking the habit with the help of stop smoking aids may help with your health overall. However, it’s understandable if smoking is a source of comfort, helping some of those affected to manage their symptoms and feelings.

-Written By Jennifer Hamilton 

Thursday, April 4, 2013

A Battle with Cancer - An article by Cameron Von St. James

I have a confession. Months and months ago I was contacted by a reader of my blog who told me a very moving story about his wife’s struggle with cancer. He sent me an article he wrote and asked if I would post it up my blog. I was of course not only happy to, but also much honored to. However, due to traveling, a very long bad bronchial and lung infection, and a few other excuses my procrastination got the better of me.
Firstly I would like to publicly apologize to Cameron. I am so sorry to have made you wait this long, and I want to also thank you for not only taking an interest and caring but also for being so patient, understanding and most of all kind to me in spite of the inexcusably long wait. I admire you and your wifes strength and courage and I strive to be as strong as you both. I wish you both only health and happiness!


The Challenges of Caring for My Wife with Cancer

Just three months after the birth of my first child, everything went from joy and celebration to shock and confusion. It was in November of 2005 when Heather, my wife, found out she had malignant pleural mesothelioma. I knew my role of husband suddenly became one of caretaker. From the minute of diagnosis, everything changed.

We had to start making tough choices immediately. The doctor laid out a few options for treatment, including a doctor in Boston who specialized in mesothelioma treatment. I sat quietly and waited for Heather to say something, but soon realized that she was still in shock.  I jumped in immediately and told the doctor, “Get us to Boston!”

I had to switch to part time work to manage our lives, and Heather had to leave her job entirely. Each day I feared for the future. But this feeling passed quickly because I knew I had to be strong for Heather and my daughter.  Nonetheless, I had my bad days.  Too many times, I broke down crying, picturing my life without my wife, raising a daughter who would never really know her mother. 

Life lessons were learned during this time. Learning to accept help from family members, and even strangers, was one major lesson. It made a big difference in getting through each day.  I learned the hard way that there is no room for pride when your loved one’s life is on the line. I've also learned to manage time better and to manage my emotions properly, including stress and anger.

Also, being stubborn was beneficial then, which is another lesson learned. I was determined to get through the ordeal with my wife. After months of treatment involving surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, Heather defied the odds and beat mesothelioma. Now our lives had returned to normal, and I'm thankful for each day. I even returned to school to study information technology when our daughter turned two.

I completed my degree with high honors and was chosen as speaker to represent my class. In that speech, I said that if I needed to identify, five years ago, where I'd be that day, this stage would not have been my prediction. I said that, when times challenge us, those times are a call to be our best. If you believe in your own abilities, you will realize your dreams.  Heather and Lily were in attendance, and they cheered me on.  That was the best reward of all.

For those who may face this one day, or are facing it now, expect times of confusion, stress and daily struggles, some of the hardest times ever. Just be certain to always have faith, and never give up hope.

 

In the beginning of the 1900's, women began to stand up for themselves, for equality, for the right to vote, for the right to be treated as equals.In the 1940's and 50's a brave and brilliant man named Ghandi led 3 million Indians to freedom, equality, libery am of course justice.
In the late 1950's and the 1960's a black man decided to stand up and fight for equality for people of all races and religions. He fought against segregation, against racism and prejudice.
Now in the year 2012, the world is fighting for gay rights. The right to marry, the right to adopt, the right to be viewed as human beings and equals.
So I ask you this; when will it be our turn? When will people with disabilities have equality.
Oh sure, you can begin to list all of the laws that exist to defend handicap rights and to ensure that we are treated as equals...
But do you really think they work? Do you really think they help? Do you really think they are enforced???
It was only in 1990 that the greatest most advanced superpower in the world passed the ADA act to defend and protect peaople with diasabilities. 1990!!!
I live in a modern country, but every day when I go to the convenient store
near my home I need to wheel myself in the street because either there are no ramps on the sidewalks or the ramps are so poorly built (and NEVER maintained) that if I were to try and use them I would simply flip over in my wheelchair. I would find myself lying on my back or my face in the middle of the street waiting for someone to either find me and help me, or run me over. Which ever comes first...
When I go to the mall everyone stares at me, as if I am a cyborg. Alas however I am not a cyborg, just a 24 year old in a wheelchair. Speaking of the mall... Three elevators four escalators, I usually need to wait about 20 minutes before there is even enough space in the elevator for me to get into the mall. Apparently taking the escalator has become a very difficult task for people because no one seems to be using them if there are elevators, even if someone in a wheelchair has been waiting for a half hour. I know I haven't walked in over two years but unless my memory has failed me, I don't remember it being difficult or painful or too time consuming to take the escalator...
Although sometimes I think I expect too much. Like I am setting my standards too high. After all, how can I expect more in country where police officers abuse their power to park in handicap parking spots or block wheelchair ramps on sidewalks. That of course is just the first layer of the corruption and of the world's mentality. It's the laws that people consider "less important" or "not as big of a deal" that are broken first. (It's a big deal to the person in the chair... but who cares anyway...)

We can list all the laws that countless governments have enforced in order to obliterate prejudice. The laws that are there to enforce equality and protect minorities. But what's the point? Equality cannot be enforced by law. A government cannot stop prejudice. Only people can. Equality already exists. EVERYONE is equal, the problem is that they are not always treated that way.
Take for example the Olympic games. The epitome of equality, of justice, of civility, of human rights...
So my question is, if the Olympics are so "politically correct" if they are so humane and are the worlds representation of equality than why does NO ONE even know when the Paralympics or the Special Olympics are held? Why are they not held along with the "regular" Olympics? Why are they not even held in the same stadiums and gardens as the regular Olympic games.
Who is the stronger athlete really? The man who has his country funding him and helping him, the strong tall impressive and famous athlete who takes the gold in the 400m hurdle? Or the man who runs the 400m hurdle with two prosthetic legs because he is a double amputee? Which athlete conquered the real greater challenge?
The Paralympics aren't even viewed as true sports. If they were, why are they a separate event? Why does no one even know they exist? Why are the only people who view them either disabled or are related to someone disabled?
Being handicap is walking around with a giant sign floating over you that reads: WARNING! I'm different, but not a good different.
Remember yourself as a child, or teenager, or young adult, or better yet imagine yourself right now.
What is your dream of dreams?
What are all your dreams? Your goals? All the things you have ever wanted to do in your life?
My bucket list had a few of the following:
Travel around the world
'get lost' in china for a while
Run the NY city marathon
Ski the Swiss alps
Hike in the Himalayas
Perform on broadway (though I would have settles for off broadway as well)

Ya I know, pipe dreams. But they always say "if you're gonna dream, dream big"...
Today, i know that for the first time in my life I truly have no dreams.
Not because I don't want anymore but because I know that I literally never will be able to do any of the things on that list. That includes the things I didn't mention.
So nowadays I sit at home alone, watching old ballets and musicals feeling the same thud racing in my heart the same I have always felt when I would see or do any of the things I dreamed about. Even if it was just a small taste of a crazy and unlikely possibility. Bug a possibility none the less.
Today however that thud... it reminds me of a dead possibility. Of a lost dream.
I have some new dreams, but they are no longer a reflection of what i truly wanted. They are simply realistic and reachable goals. You know, the regular -have a career, own a house perhaps, maybe get a car... How exciting!

So I'm in a wheelchair huh...
At least I'm used to being short. (In fact, I think I may be taller sitting down.)
People say it will get better. It will change. Time heals all wounds.
But not my legs. In this world, people don't live their dreams. That is why we call them dreams.
In my world, there is no such thing as dreams. You wake up, take medications, fill your day with something, take your meds and try to go back to sleep. If you can fill a day in my case, your lucky.
Im only 24 and I allready know not to take things for granted. I think I learned that lesson at too young an age. I'm 24 and the highlight of my months are when a friend tears themselves away from their lives to come visit and perhaps wash my dishes becuase I have trouble reaching the sink.
Time heals all wounds? No, time just drags them out.
But here is the funny part of it all, I have proof. I first wrote this post about 8 months ago and never posted it. Today I opened the computer and saw it in my drafts folder. I opened it up and read it over and heres the proof- I have the exact same things to say now that I did 8 months ago. So what has time healed?
The only diffrence between my life now and my life 8 months ago is that now I am single, if its possible even more broke, and my apartment flooded over the winter and smells like mold. Time sure heals... (Actually more acurately, time breaks- my wheelchair to be exact wich Delta Airlines was kind enough to break for me.)
The real lesson is not to expect time to help your situation. It's finding out a way to help it yourself. So if anyone figures out a way to do that, drop me a line becuase I would sure love to know.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Perfection, Bliss, and a `whole’ lot of Soul…


This past 4th of July, I bore witness to the most beautiful and pure thing anyone could ever possibly view. 

Some people might say that that is a bit extreme of a statement. These people are right.
It is incredibly extreme. But, it is true.

Imagine seeing a scene where there is no anger, no hate, no resentment, no awkwardness, no pity, no judgment, no prejudice, and simply no negative emotions, thoughts or feelings of any kind.  That in itself seems a bit extreme. But I prefer to call it… “bliss”.
`Bliss’ is what I experienced this 4th of July. I hosted a big BBQ, at my humble home. I have a big yard, why not make good use of it. I invited a few of my closest friends, and a few of my good friends, and a few of their good friends and so on... After that I invited from members and volunteers from “The Center for Independent Living”, the Non-Profit Organization where I volunteer. 
The Center for Independent Living works to promote handicaps rights, equality for the disabled, and laws requiring accessibility in all public places. It is a place that teaches persons with disabilities (whether they are from birth, or accident, or developed, etc…) how to not only support themselves but to be self sufficient and eventually to be able to support others even. It is a place that does everything it can to help everyone who asks for it to reach their full potential in whatever field it is they want, and need. But mostly it is a place for anyone who has ever been “handicapped” for any reason, to come and find a community, a social world that never judges them, a family.
The BBQ was a hit! Everyone had a good time, even me (the crazy stressed out host)! Everyone danced, and ate, and drank, and laughed, and talked, and made new friends. Everyone simply celebrated life, and living it alongside wonderful people.
And than it happened. That moment. That experience. That bliss…
Around half way through the party, I wheeled myself a few `steps’ back and simply watched. This is what I saw:
I saw people in wheelchairs, dancing with people on their feet and people on their feet with the help of crutches. I saw deaf people conversing in sign language and body language with people who had never had a hearing problem in their life. I saw friends of friends who I had hardly ever met deep in thought while listening to the life story of someone born disabled. I saw my best friend “sword-fighting” a women who cannot walk without crutches (and can hardly walk with them) with her own set of crutches and she could hardly catch her breath of laughter. I saw a dear friend also born with a severe physical handicap stand for nearly three hours straight at the grill laughing with everyone and drinking a beer while making sure everyone gets to eat the great food.
Enough, details. I saw a perfect world.
Well a very, very small model of what it would be. Only innocence, love, compassion, and caring. A world without, hate, or disgust, or any prejudice. A society without class, without stereotypes or stigmas.  A world where literally everyone is happy. Everyone is just as special and important as the person sitting beside them.
We, accidentally, created something absolutely perfect. And it was easy too. It was natural, as if that was the way life should be lived.
I am currently the only member or volunteer at the center with CRPS. No one knew what it was or had ever heard of it. But no one judged me either. In fact from my first day I was even told that I don’t need to tell anyone anything about my condition, or story, or anything that I don’t want to. That promise was kept. I have never been judged there by anyone to this day, and I know that I never will be. 

What has being in a wheelchair and 4th if July taught me...?

Well for one, it has taught me how strong gravity REALLY is.

But mostly, it has taught me that there may just be more good in this world than I ever thought existed. It has taught me that being complete is not about being physically or mentally `whole’, but rather that being complete is about your soul (or spirit or energy or whatever name you chose to call it, but basically meaning you). What your soul tells you, and if you are going to do something about it. 
My wheelchair has taught me to stop every day, close my eyes, look deep into my soul and say to myself “what can I try to do today to help make this world a better place”. And then… Well..., then I go out and try to do it.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

RSD is like...

RSD is like...
How can anyone ever try to finish that sentence? How can words even begin to express or explain or depict what RSD TRULY is, and TRULY does. How can you put into words the pain, ache, sadness, loss, anger, humiliation, abandonment, grief, and so much more that TRULY is RSD? (Does anyone have a thesaurus? I might be in need of one).
I have heard many people try.
"RSD is like being stabbed by a thousand burning knives!"
"RSD is like being completely engulfed by flames!"
"RSD is like being tortured to death slowly but never actually having the relief of death itself."

Personally, I don't think any of these endings scratch the surface of what RSD is. In truth, you can't describe RSD. Someone who doesn't have it can never fully comprehend what RSD really is like. I know this sounds rather snobbish or perhaps unfair, but it's not. I know this because I once walked, and ran, and jumped. And I once lived a pain free life with no RSD, with no wheelchair and no health problems. If someone had told me than what RSD is like I would have probably done what most people I know who don't have RSD do. I would have thought about the absolute most physically painful thing I had ever experienced and tried to imagine it being permanent. Wow...

What is the most painful thing YOU ever felt?
I would have had a hard time deciding. Perhaps the second degree burns that I suffered all over my back and legs which left me horribly blistered and in an E.R. where I was administered a shot of morphine into my behind. At the time the morphine knocked me flat off my feet! Not only did the pain go away, I fell deep asleep right there in the hospitals emergency room lying naked on my stomach whole a doctor rubbed this smelly blue cream over my burns.
Today a morphine IV will possibly stop my tremors during a flare up... As for the pain, my prescribed daily dosages of morphine and fentanyl patches sometimes stop a tooth ache I have because I need a root canal...
If I had to guess the amount of relief morphine gives me today in a percentage (bearing in mind that I failed math in high school), I would guess perhaps around a 15% relief. (This is usually only if I am on an empty stomach).
Or maybe I would try to think of the time I had a very strange and sever infection in my eye. I had sand blown into my eye while walking by school when I was in 10th grade and a tiny grain of sand stuck under my left eye inside the lid. It eventually attached itself to the inside of my eyelid and became infected, red and swollen. For a year and a half no doctor could figure out what it was (I didn't think that a bit of sand had actually gotten stuck in my eye that day and decided to set up camp and stay there for a year). But that wasn't the extremely painful part either. No, the painful part was the day an eye doctor finally figured out what was literally growing underneath my eyeball on the inside of my eyelid and causing my vision to blur and keeping me from being able to close my eye all the way. The doctor gave me two options, surgery right than and there...
Or... Surgery, several months later when there would be another opening in the schedule. Naturally I hopped onto the hospital table/bed and said, "slice me open doc!" ... And he did.
I got two shots in my eye of anesthetic and than came the REALLY painful part. The doctor flipped my eyelid inside out and used a clamp to pull it down and hold it there so that he could reach the giant swollen bubble type thing that was growing there underneath. Then I saw a scalpel inching towards my eyeball (which of course I couldn't even shut, so I was forced to watch the whole thing. Talk about the best seats in the house for the show!). The doctor slowly cut off the entire giant ball thing while stopping every few seconds to scrape out all the "gunk" that had built up inside of it. When he finally finished I was patched up with an eye patch which I could remove only two weeks later and was told to drip 10 drops of the eye drops he had prescribed every two hours for a week.

Don't bother asking how it ended, most of what I recall is screaming. After the mini operation the doctor told me I had enough fat built up in that little infection for someone to get a botox lip injection. Pretty gross huh?

If I could choose between RSD and that surgery every day of my life, guess which one I would pick? Obviously its a no-brainer. Who needs depth perception anyway!!! My mother did without it before her cataract was removed and the worst that ever happened was missing the glass while pouring herself orange juice.(Actually this would happen often, and my sister and I would roll on the floor gasping for breath in between laughs).

So how is anyone supposed to finish that sentence?
RSD is like...
Anything I say or write will never Come close to what RSD is really like. So there is your answer.
RSD is like feeling and being so unbelievably lost that no words can express how it feels, neither physically or emotionally.

When I was undergoing treatments in one of the many hospitals I attended, I used to go to an RSD support group. We were about 10 people on days when EVERYONE would show up. The very last time I attended the group (before the doctors stopped the treatment program for me and said that they give up) I decided to finally put into words what I and virtually everyone else in the room had been feeling but was too afraid to say:
Is it worth it? A question that I can say in full confidence, most every RSD'er asks themselves.
RSD is like mourning the death of the person you used to be, and being forced into a strangers' body. A body which you do not know. A body which rejects you. A body that is not your own. A body that hates itself.
RSD is like losing everything you were, everything you had, and everything you wanted to be.
Is it worth it?

I know the answer to that question. It took me more than a year to figure it out. More than a year of struggling, of crying, of mourning, of hurting, of anger, of sadness, of denial...

I know that many others out there still have not found the answer to that question. Many out there may never, and it breaks my heart that they won't. It breaks my heart even more just knowing that many out there have to ask themselves that question.

I have RSD. I am disabled.
It took a year, but at least now I can say that "I have RSD", and not "this strangers' body that I am trapped in has RSD".

So, RSD is like...
RSD is like nothing you will ever be able to imagine and hopefully nothing you will ever be able to TRULY understand.

I don't want to finish the sentence. I don't want you to have to imagine something so terrible and so cruel.
Instead, I will spend my time focusing on the opposite and telling my story, in spite of my RSD. Instead, I will spend the next year (and all the years I am granted after that) focusing on all the things that my RSD can NEVER take from me, and the things that RSD can NEVER stop me from achieving.

RSD is like fighting a battle that you know you may fight for the rest of your life. But as long as you always keep fighting, RSD can NEVER win!

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Dear friends...

Dear friends,

I am sorry that I can't go to clubs with you anymore, and I am sorry I can't go so much to bars.
I am sorry I cant go out if the weather is bad, and I'm sorry I can't go out because I usually don't feel well.
I'm sorry I cant go to the beach with you because of the water, and the sand, and the sun, and wind.
I'm sorry I can't go camping with you because of the cold, and because I can't sleep in a tent or on a blow up mattress even.
I'm sorry I can't go bowling with you, and I'm sorry I can't go play pool with you.
I'm sorry I can't go skiing with you, or on the cruise or trip you wanted.
I'm sorry I can't.
I'm sorry that I can't do any of the things you love to do... Believe me when I say that I love them all too.
I'm sorry that all I can do is just be a friend without going anywhere fun or doing anything, (forget about if it is exciting or not.)
But I still would love to be your friend if you don't mind walking slowly because it's hard for me to keep up with you... Or because the carpal tunnel I developed in both wrists makes it hard for me to wheel myself in my wheelchair now.
I'm sorry if I embarrass you because it's winter and everyone see's you with me and my gross
Swollen legs.
I'm sorry I expected of you to stand by me every now and again when my life stopped even though I know yours didn't.
But mostly, I'm sorry I expected you to keep caring and I'm sorry I let myself hurt when you are never around.
And last but not least,
I'm sorry you will probably never even read this, because friends, I lost you so long ago and didn't even realize it till now.
So if you are ever in the neighborhood you don't have to call, and if you ever need a favor I'm afraid that I am all out. So friends, you don't have to pretend that you care anymore because I know that you don't.

And friends, I hope that you never lose each other because losing your friends is even harder than never having you at all.

So friends, if you for some reason see this and wonder who you are, I don't think you should ask because I may have trouble replying.

And friends, the one thing I can say that I have truly learned from this past year is that it shows you who will be around in 20 years and who won't.

So once again to my friends...
don't feel guilty or bad about me because I felt bad enough for all of us.

Sincerely
Tzipi,
(sincerely,
Every patient with RSD who lost the people they thought were their friends.
I know that every single patient lost AT LEAST one friends...)

Friday, November 25, 2011

After Four Months of silence


 About four months ago I was hospitalized in a small private hospital with the hope for achieving remission and beating my RSD. I was in the hospital for about three months. Three months of intensive therapies and treatments. Three months of working so hard that I could literally forget my own name at times. Three months of begging my doctor for a cure and only making her feel worse that my life is what it is…
Those three months I spent crying every single day from pain, despair, disappointment, and grief. But, I also spent those three months of making friends (though in the worst of circumstance), and learning about life.
Now that I am three weeks out of the hospital, I am back in an apartment, trying to continue to live. No, I still cannot walk. I am still sick. I still can’t commit to work or studies, or people. I am still struggling to find something, anything to make me better again. I am still fighting.
And today I saw a friend. A good friend who always gives the right advice and says the right thing because he has lived exactly what I am living. He told me that this is the hand we have been dealt and  statistically speaking, I won’t walk again and even if I do it will be with difficulty and pain. Pain. Something that I never thought I would allow pain to be such a dominant and controlling part of life. And that pain will keep me going in and out of doctors’ offices, clinics and hospitals most likely for the rest of my life. Everyone who knows my friend calls him strong, his wife calls him pessimistic. My friend calls himself a realist. I believe him.
From the outside for someone to say “stop being pessimistic”, or “look at the things you can do not the things you can’t” isn’t just easier said than done. It’s nearly impossible to do and the few who achieve it have me baffled and mesmerized.
My friend is right. My life, wheelchair bound or not, is going to be filled with doctors, and medicine, and limits. I struggle to accept that. I haven’t yet and don’t know how I can. This past year I have watched everyone around me live. I have watched their lives change, relationships begin and end, new jobs and new friends, and even a doctorate received. But not me. I was in bed or a chair, somewhere. From where I am now, when I look forward all I can see is replays of this past year. I see my friends getting married and me making it to some of the weddings. I see them having children and me holding them until they get a little too big, I see promotions and success and life. But only for my friends, for me as always I see a chair or a bed on the side.  
I used to believe that one day I would conquer the world. Somehow, with some idea or belief. I used to think something would change forever because I changed it, because I was strong enough to change it. I wanted to leave my footprint in history even if it wasn’t a big one. To change something for the better.
They tell you not to let god know your plans, but I did. Now I have none. My friend knows my future. I don’t need a fortune teller or a doctor or a scientist to tell me what I already found on Google. There will be hospitals, and doctors, and medicine and of course that ever relentless pain that follows me no matter where I go or how hard I try to hide. I ask myself if it is worth it. I haven’t found an answer yet.
So for the past four months, a lot has changed though my life is still the same. For four months I couldn’t write a word because I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what story to tell. What lesson I had learned that was worth sharing.
But today my friend told me my future. I couldn’t answer him properly after he told me. We eventually headed back out the coffee shop, him back to his life, me back to what I am trying to accept as mine. And now, I am writing what went through my head when he spoke to me. This is my answer. I know it isn’t really an answer to something that wasn’t really a question in the first place. I have no message that I tried to relay in what I wrote. Just an emotion that is too complex for one word to describe it.
I, like my friend, am also a realist, but reality scares me.