Comfort in Comforting

I have paid less attention to social media lately. I have been occupied, both mentally and physically. I have a family member in poor health right now, and it weighs heavily on my mind.

She has been battling cancer for quite some time and recently had radical surgery to ensure the cancer is not an imminent threat. The healing process has been stressful for her, and it is far from over. Even when she fully heals, she will be changed forever both physically and emotionally. Obviously, I worry about her.

Even though I may go weeks without seeing her under normal circumstances, I feel compelled to cater to her in whatever way I can whenever I can. I feel better seeing her for myself, knowing she is under good care, and getting her to crack a smile on a horrible day. It’s silly, but running out for Tums the other night when she had acid reflux made me feel useful. It didn’t help, but at least I tried. I want to be near her and tell her everything will be alright, even though life is difficult right now. I want her to know I don’t have the answers, but I am here to help her figure them out. There is no worse feeling than wanting to help someone you love and not being able to fix the problems.

As I feel this way, I see closer relatives than me behaving callously. I can’t crawl inside their heads. I don’t know what they think, but I know how they act. I would rather go camping, so I’ll just ignore her. That’s the action. That’s the message. I can guess at the intent. Actions like this or worse upset me more than the cancer itself.

I tell myself these people don’t understand because they have never had to struggle for health or anything else in life. Maybe you have to struggle before you can understand compassion. Maybe that is just the balance of our family. Regardless of what other people do, I know that I feel better caring about my loved ones. I want to show compassion to others.

I would like to remind you, the reader, that you will someday require care from someone else. Think about how you treat those who need your help. Think about how other people treat you. If you suffer from chronic health problems, people can seem heartless at times. Healthy people do not understand what you endure. Lead by example. Can you honestly say you show the same level of compassion you want from other people? Be kind and generous with your time. It takes very little effort to have a conversation with someone who is going through a rough time.

An Oasis in the Desert Heat

Last week, I had a pretty gnarly flare involving my feet. In my desperation, I called the rheumatologist’s office. Just today, I finished the prescribed steroid dose pack. I have felt unnaturally fantastic the last couple of days.

Generally, I am not a fan of steroids because they wear off. But boy, do they ever make me feel good! Steroids bring instant gratification to a suddenly capable body. I have energy, flexibility, and mobility. Yoga on steroids is my version of winning a race or medaling in the Olympics. I bend. I twist. I stretch. I relax. I breathe. I beam. It’s spring, and I am twitterpated with normalcy.

Days like these offer a glimpse into the perfect health I don’t have. And then they disappear. The steroids fade just as quickly as they kick in. I will sink back into my struggle to perform the mundane tasks that were so easy hours ago. I will eventually forget how good I feel today and maybe that it’s even possible to feel this good. I will be complacent in my mediocre abilities. I will forget how it feels to put my weight into my wrists without pain, how far back my shoulders can rotate, and how straight my arms and legs were during a wide-leg balance yesterday. I will tire again, accept my swollen joints as my personal standard, and allow my pain to dictate too much of my day-to-day life.

This week is a mirage, a glimmer of the unattainable goal. It is a reminder of how remission can feel and how sick I really am. It is a reminder to be honest with my doctor about how crappy I feel and that, no, crappy is not actually normal. I will continue my yoga practice with many shortcomings. I will continue in pursuit of slow progress and in memory of this invigorating mirage.