I'm Grateful for My Body's Good Will

In mid-September, I began a hiatus from blogging because I had two infections—one in my sinuses; one in my chest. The latter responded to antibiotics. The sinus infection, however, hung on— through several doses of anti-biotics—from April to late October. I had fluid in both ears, headaches, drainage, coughing—the whole shebang. Both infections left me tired, so for the past two months, I have mostly rested and read.

In early October, I was diagnosed with walking pneumonia that morphed into “severe” bronchitis. This resulted in a prolonged asthma attack that sent me—truly breathless—to Urgent Care. The doctor there sent me immediately to Emergency.

At the hospital, the attending physician put me on oxygen for nearly three hours and also got me started on a “breathing treatment.” Soon I was able to talk and had ceased to gasp for breath. Because my oxygen level went up to a normal range, the doctor decided not to hospitalize me.

I came home—coughing, hacking, using one Kleenex after another, and always, always, listening for the kitchen timer to tell me when my next eye drop went in for glaucoma. Eight times a day I pause to put drops into my eyes—Glaucoma drops 3x a day; a preservative-free lubricant 5x a day. The kitchen timer rules my life.

This drop-procedure started in December 2015 when my glaucoma pressure soared to 56 in the left eye and 59 in the right. (The normal pressure is about 15.) The ophthalmologist found this “alarming” and sent me immediately to a specialist. Had Dr. Ann not stayed late to see me, I would have been blind within five hours—or so I was told.

That high pressure greatly damaged my optic nerves, so my vision is compromised. That’s why in the intervening months, I’ve had eight surgeries to get the pressure down to 10 and to keep it there. That lower-than-normal pressure can help keep further damage from happening to my optic nerves. This past Thursday I had my most recent surgery. Next Thursday, Dr. Ann will examine both eyes to gauge the pressure. We are both hoping for the best—10!

Now all of this must truly sound minimal next to what some of you are going through. For example, I read a blog written by a woman who has been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. Her situation is much more dire than anything that has ever happened to me. So I’m not complaining in this post about these “small potatoes” of ill health I’ve been having.

All I’m trying to say really is that as I age, my body is insisting that I begin to do my part in taking care of it. For eight decades I took this body for granted. Nevertheless, during that span of years, it always responded with great good nature. Now, at 81 and in my ninth decade, my body is asking for the tender loving care that shows I appreciate its care of me all these years.

And so, often throughout each day, I say Julian of Norwich’s mantra: “And all shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be exceedingly well.”

Her mantra got me through the worse days of Meniere’s Disease back in 2006 and 2007, and it continues to comfort my body whenever it asks for attention and TLC. I have, at this late date in my life, finally listened to the voice of my body as it asks for appreciation, gratitude, and love.

Peace.