Sometimes I'm so close I can almost touch it, that elusive beast 'normality'. That simple little pot of gold at the end of the rainbow... everyday normal health.
But I've overdone it again. I spent too much time talking to a friend, too much time holding my niece, I drove that extra mile in my car..
And I am stopped in my tracks, pain and illness gearing up for their assault.
The fevers appear, cold flannels on my head. The pain surges, out come the pain killers. Insomnia descends, church bells checking the early hours. Energy disappears...
The episodes are getting less frequent, they are lasting for shorter periods, and yet as close as I am to the finish line, I have never felt closer to giving up. I-just-can't-do-this-anymore. I want to cry and cry and cry and rage against the pseudo-dying of my body. And suffer, how I suffer. How I want to be saved from this.
So I wait. I wait however many days it takes to subside. Patience... I need to be patient.
And slowly, surely, the attack ends. I get up again and peek my head back into the world; energy temporarily restored; wondering when the next time will be; hoping there won't be a next time. How I marvel at the sunshine, the opportunities that lie outside my front door. I step outside and embrace life again knowing just how lucky I am to get it back.
And I know that one day, I know, that I will emerge for good, seize the world with both hands and never look back...