Y'see, myositis disorders tend to restrict how much energy you have. My attitude of "go hard or go home" when it comes to physiotherapy sometimes gets me into trouble because of this. If I push myself too hard one day, I'm going to feel tired and weak for the entire next day, and possibly even the one after that. Getting up? Didn't want to do that. Exercise? Didn't want to do that, but I still did for my own good. Assembling my thoughts into coherent sentences for the purpose of blogging? Forget about it. I do try to limit myself a bit so that I have enough energy to do things like go for a stroll or visit after my therapy sessions are done, but sometimes I misjudge. When that happens, I burn right out and can't summon the energy to do much of anything.
Mind you, I'm sure staying up until 2 a.m. Monday night reading didn't help.
Oh, and it was all one book. Just one very long and very fascinating reading session, and holy crap you guys need to read this book.
This is Susannah Cahalan's memoir about her experience with anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis, a very rare auto-immune disorder that attacks the brain. While I can personally relate to some of what she went through, her account is jaw-dropping. The poor woman lost her mind for a month due to the disease, and struggled to regain not only her health but her very identity as the treatment began to take effect. The way her family stuck by her, and stuck up for her, made me want very much to give my own a hug.
Seriously. Everyone who's made it out to see me? You guys have made my stay in the hospital much more pleasant than it would be otherwise. Without you, every day would just slog into the next, with no meaningful division between them other than sleep. I'd probably be a lot more listless without you, and nowhere near as far along the road to recovery as I am now. Thank you.
In other news, I finally found a dud in my wheelchair trials today. This supposedly lighter chair was supposed to be easier to propel and maneuver, but the darn thing was just as heavy, didn't want to turn, and the wheels were so far back I couldn't reach them properly. Thankfully, my Occupational Therapist found my old chair and swapped me back into it. I still hate how stiff the brakes are on here, but at least I can move around again. Ah well...that's what these trials are for, right? It's just like buying a car: you have to try a bunch to see what works and what doesn't for you. Except that here, the car won't even start if it's wrong for you.
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