You know how it can be sometimes, when things get so hard that you are pushed to go beyond the normal, and you are able to find the smallest, most profound beauty amidst the pain? I know that can happen in the pain of childbirth or in recognizing the smallest act of kindness when one is swimming the depths of grief. Anyway, as I curled up in a pain-filled ball of sweat on Wednesday, I found so much beauty alongside the agony. At that moment, I not only found some love and compassion for myself - for possibly the first time in my life - but I also realized something about the human condition of suffering that I don't know how to explain at this moment.
Still, with all of the benefits that come from pushing myself beyond my limits, I was not sad to see that experience come to an end. But when it came to its end, I found myself with a new face. Remember this dumb kids' joke? "Does your face hurt?" "No." "Well, it's killing me!" Well, since Wednesday, my face has hurt and I'm sure that it might kill some people - it certainly could scare off little kids. The swelling is amazing and half of my face looks like it's on fire. The bridge of my nose is two inches wide! (I just measured it.) My eyes are little bitty slits. I have no peripheral vision, due to all of the swelling around my eyes. My cheek feels like I'm wearing a mask. Got the picture yet? :-(
This is my cheek on fire.So, with pride and any ideas of the importance of my looks put aside (almost), I got myself to a doctor, thanks to Mr. CarolForPeace. There, they sent me to the hospital for blood work and an MRI of my brain. I walked into that place looking like I had elephantiasis of the face and all of those kind people at the hospital looked right into my eyes like I was the most precious person that had walked in the door. No pity, but also not a twitch of discomfort or a desire to look away. It was so... so... wonderful.
They did find a brain while doing the MRI - that was good news. And it's been decided that this face thing is angioedema, which is a very important-sounding word for an allergic reaction. How I could have an allergic reaction occur when I spent the previous 2 1/2 days sweating in bed, eating very little and especially not eating anything new, I'll never know. I don't think that I have all of the answers and I'm not sure that I need them. I've put aside my principles (or stubborness) and I'm on steroids for a few days. Better that than having the stuff move to my airways.
So that's my story for today. My face is still red and fat, but the rest of my symptoms are melting away like our leftover snow piles in this spring-like weather.
Love cures people — both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it. - Dr.Karl Menninger
You turned on comments - oh my!
ReplyDeleteYour beauty has always been much deeper than two inches of your skin!
How scary and crazy. So glad you are on your way to recovery!
ReplyDeletePeace.
Thank you, Michael... :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sheri!
ReplyDeleteThinking of you guys...
Oh ... your comments are enabled!
ReplyDeleteI am SO sorry to hear how unwell you have been feeling but glad to know that your symptoms are "melting away"
Angie O'Deema sounds like a fiery Irish woman ... I hope that she's been kicked out by the time you read this.
Sending lots of love for a speedy recovery xx
My poor, dear Carol! So the swelling is caused by some sort of allergic reaction or perhaps hereditary? Nether is a nice thought: I would hate to think of you going through this again.
ReplyDeleteAre the headaches gone?
I hope the steroids work and you are out on the hiking trails before this wonderful weather turn cold.
Alex sends a "purrrrrr" and I continue to pray for your fast and complete recovery.
Thank you, Ms Dancing!
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the laughs! Ms. O'Deema has been quite the guest and she is still hanging around, but she's starting to get bored with the likes of me.
Nick,
ReplyDeleteI'm not expecting to do this one again. But if I ever do, at least I know what needs to be done about it.
My thoughts are that I had a virus and this weird reaction hit me while I was down. Headaches are getting better (she says, while almost dancing).
Thank you for your prayers and concern. I know that your warm thoughts have helped, my friend.
Carol, count me among those who have to admit my shame at not discovering your move before now. I made a conscious effort to disconnect myself from politics for the time being. And thus my shame. I had not considered the real lives of those at other points in this cyber space who I consider my friend. You are among the best of those friends.
ReplyDeleteWhat is it about our bodies that they do not allow us to use the wisdom of years with a younger production model?
Hey Robert!
ReplyDeleteShame takes up too much valuable energy that can be used for much better things. No need!
And I, sir, have not been visiting your blog, either, and thus, was delayed in finding out about your owie. I hope that you always know that I'm here for ya, no matter.
I think that I've gotten a lot of what little wisdom that I have from the hardest times. During the young and easy times, I think I was doing other things! Funny how that works... ;-)
Much healing to you!
I'm glad you're feeling better. That sure doesn't sound like any fun.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Thomas. It hasn't been fun, but it sure has been fascinating!
ReplyDelete