The gift of speech

an underrated ability

photo courtesy of Pixabay

In my recent newsletter Time, I mentioned I would double back later to address life-threatening or debilitating illnesses. The post I'm about to share could relate to the feelings associated with most all diseases. Still, in a much bigger picture, this post is about gratitude.

Having never been diagnosed with a severe illness, I hesitate to write about the subject. While I can imagine the range of feelings I might experience living with a serious disease, I'd prefer to share a post I read recently by a woman who has ALS. 

Mid-post digression… in my young twenties/thirties, I became a hypochondriac. I write like I went to the local recruiting office and signed up to become a hypochondriac. More accurately, I lived through my mom Helen's training throughout my childhood. My mom would race me to the doctor's office, convinced I was seriously ill with some dreaded disease. The doctor would tell her I had flea bites, true story. 

In hindsight, my mother was a frustrated wanna-be nurse but sadly didn't have the funds for that type of education when she was young. Instead, she enrolled in cosmetology school and became a cosmetologist (the term in her day), a good one at that. She nurtured her clients and saved all the doctoring for me. 

Not much changed for Helen over the years. When she was in her 90s, her favorite pastime was visiting the emergency room. She would insist she was dying. I would spend up to eight hours by her side, slowly losing my mind, because the hospital does every test imaginable on an elderly person to be sure they haven't missed anything. Ten hours later, after paperwork, we'd head home with a clean bill of health. My mom would sit next to me in the passenger's seat, looking over the paperwork the ER had sent her home with, happy as a pig in— well, you get the picture. These adventures continued for years until the hospital sent her a letter informing her that the ER was for EMERGENCIES, asking her to stop coming in for minor ailments. Who gets a letter from the ER? 

While Helen never stopped obsessing about disease, I did. And don't get me wrong, I fear disease. But I don't spend my days preoccupied/thinking about it as I did in my younger years. Somewhere in my late 40s, I made significant shifts in my life; that particular obsession, surprising or maybe not surprising, left and has never returned. I am forever grateful for the ability to live in the moment, especially recognizing that it's a healthy moment. 

While I can't speak from personal experience about the feelings associated with actually having a serious illness, I've had many severe diseases in the recesses of my mind. Almost sounds like a song. It wasn’t. My husband at the time and my closest friends often talked me through my fears. I left many doctor visits a bit like Helen, clutching happily to the idea that I did not have the disease that I had imagined. A view of the past…

In present day… I recently came across this post reading Understandably by Bill Murphy, Jr., If I Could Speak Again, written by Cai Emmons. It is one of the most moving pieces I've read in some time. Her words have entered my mind each day since, reminding me to embrace the day, appreciate my voice, guard my heart, fill my lungs, enjoy my sight… you get the idea. 

Do yourself a favor and click the link on this one. I promise you won't be sorry. And if you're of a mind, check out Understandably, a great read.