Tired & Broken

Last night, I had a dream that I was in a familiar place, [the hospital, which is far from being my favorite place] with familiar faces [my old PT and OT]. I often find myself in this situation during my nighttime snoozes, and I always wake up with a feeling of defeat in the morning. It’s like my heart, my hope, is being crushed more and more with each time I have these dreams.

I think I’ve written about a similar dream before. Last night’s, though, was a bit different, filled with more care and hope. It was so real, so emotional, that I didn’t want to wake up. In fact, when I did wake up, I tried to force myself back to sleep so I could continue dreaming. Holding onto the moment. Feeling hope. But alas, my efforts did not succeed so I was left feeling like I had just tasted the first tiny bite of a delicious meal, only to have it be taken from me.

Here’s how it all went down [in dreamland, of course] : I was in a room outside the therapy gym, waiting to be seen. My mind was racing, my heart ready to explode from the swirl of emotions. “This is it,” I thought. I wasn’t going to leave until someone helped me. Finally, my Physical Therapist started walking in my direction. Bracing for a lecture about how I still wasn’t better, and how I was back there again, I gave her a weak, guilty, fearful smile. “I’m ready this time. I promise,” I told her. “I believe you. Now grab a snack so we can get started,” she replied. Surprised by her response, I found some animal crackers (random) in a cupboard, ate a few, and went into the gym.

I walked to the back of the therapy gym and saw my sweet Occupational Therapist (yes, she might have a slight influence in the fact that I’m studying OT…). She gave me one of those, “oh, you’re back again,” smiles while saying hello. “It’s nice to see you again. How are you doing? Are you ready to work?” This is when I broke down, releasing all the feelings I had been holding in. I fell to the ground and started to sob.

“I’m tired of fighting it. I’m so, so tired. I just want to get better. I want to be normal for once. Please…help me. Help me. I’m ready to work. I’ll do anything. Please.” Through tears, I felt a renewed strength as I surrendered my treatment into their hands. It felt so freeing, so hope-filled. It was like I knew that this was going to be the turning point. I was ready to stop fighting against my body and start fighting for my health, my happiness, my life.

And then I woke up.

Can you see why I was upset when my eyes flew open, jolting me from my dream? Those are the moments that I wish I could pull from dreamland and play out in reality. To have a plan, a place to turn to, a glimmer of hope that things would get better was indescribable.

It’s not too hard to figure out where this whole dream came from. I mean, they say you dream about things that you think about, and getting better is definitely high on the “Rae’s daily thoughts” list. The truth is, the last time I was at that hospital, trying to get my leg function back, I did fight it. I didn’t know how to deal with the pain and I was getting frustrated. When they sent me home, I’m sure the doctors and therapists wrote plenty of notes in my chart about my resistance to treatment. Those notes probably play a part in the reason why the hospital in NJ didn’t want to take me, even though at that point, I was ready.

The truth is, I am tired. How can you not be exhausted when battling chronic illness? But as tired as I am, if the opportunity arises to actually get help, genuine, comprehensive help, I have a storage of energy waiting and ready to fight RSD, to fight for my life. And that doesn’t mean I’m not fighting against the RSD now. I am. I’m doing what I can. But I certainly believe that if I were to be given another chance to do it right, I’d be able to fight better, work harder, and win this war.

I don’t know what the future may hold. I don’t know if I’ll ever find another doctor who is willing to work with me. I don’t know if that perfect PT or OT will pop into my life. I don’t know if this is a permanent disability, or if I’ll be able to one day walk again. But I do know this…I’m weary, broken, and ready for change.

{Photo Cred: Pinterest}