A thought hit me this afternoon. I wondered, “Will I ever be well again?”
We’ve all been in enough pain, hugging a toilet bowl, to wish we could just die. We don’t really mean it but it expresses how we feel.
I’ve never wondered about quality of life before. I’ve never worried about not feeling well again someday. Today, updating my Twitter accounts, I wondered.
I am down to 215 pounds and can eat nothing much beyond toast, broth and white rice. My pancreas complains about everything else. What the heck is a pancreas? How can it wield so much power?
It makes me think of a passage in the old book I read. It talks of the body and tells us that we, in our faith community, are all equally important and have a purpose. And then it talks about parts unseen that deserve special honor. I’ve never really understood that but now, Mr. Pancreas needs special attention. I get it. Mr. Pancreas is not well, so now, the rest of my body is weakened.
On Oct 4 I will be admitted to the hospital for the 5th time since March. My favorite doctor will go inside to take a look at my pancreas. He’ll put in a stint, snip a valve or inflate a balloon to open up a bile duct that he suspects has a buildup.
I’m sick enough that I wish it were tomorrow. But then I wonder, “What if this isn’t the answer? Will I ever feel well again?”
I don’t like that question.