Fearing for My Future With Illness


Sometimes I’m afraid.

There. I said it. I admitted it.

Some nights, when I’ve been extremely sick for one day too long, to where my body and my mind feel like they can’t handle one more second of this, I become afraid.

 

Why? Because I’ve learned over the years that every time I thought pain or sickness couldn’t get any worse than this, I was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

It can always get worse. You can add additional diseases, additional medications, additional side effects.

I wonder, if I feel this bad now, how will I feel in 10 years? What levels of pain and illness am I still ignorant to? If it’s worse than this, how will I handle it when I can barely handle this? It’s torture, at times.

The biggest fear that haunts me on these nights, though, is the fear of whether I will still be here 10 years from now. I’ve had some very scary, potentially fatal moments in my life. I’ve been really sick. I’ve escaped death. But, how long will I be lucky for? Will I improve as the years go by or will I continue on this path and worsen until my body can take no more?

These thoughts are hard. I’m normally very positive and optimistic, but I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t have days like this. Hard times. Fears. So, on nights like tonight, I become afraid. I feel broken. Scared. In pain. Overwhelmed.

The worry is like a smoldering log. Always ready to burst into flames of fear when life gets too hot.

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Thinkstock photo via prudkov.


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