It has been almost two years since my
mystery illness, and I wanted to take some time to reflect on a
year-plus of recovery and return to health. Although I will always
remember (or try to) my illness of 2010, it is part of my past, not
present, so this will be my final post about it for the foreseeable
future.
It is difficult to believe, but despite
the extraordinary costs, I am in most respects better than I was in
July 2010, the month prior to getting sick. The most significant
differences from the summer 2010:
I am ~5 lbs heavier. Despite working
out regularly with more cardio than before, my metabolism is a tiny
bit slower than it once was (or, I'm not disciplined enough to suffer
through a real diet). When I finally returned home from the hospital
that last time, I was actually much lighter than I had been, but
three months of living at home with a regained appetite and no
exercise packed the pounds back on.
Family and health have become my top
priorities. Work is now much lower on the list. I still work hard,
but I do not work long days, nights, or weekends like I used to. If
something can't get done because I need to eat, sleep, or take a
mental break, then it can wait. I was out for 5 months in 2010, and
although work did get done without me, all of the near-term “panics”
that kept me working late and losing sleep ended up happening months
later than planned (not because of me, mind you). My company did not
go bankrupt, lose a major customer, or cut its workforce in half to
compensate. That was the biggest work-related lesson from this
ordeal: Life goes on regardless, and the sky will not fall.
Similarly, the biggest non-work-related
lesson was that life will not wait for work to get finished, so I
take advantage of opportunities as they arise. I do not put off
leisure or family “until next year” or wait for things to get
less busy...I will always be busy at work, at least enough to keep me
employed, I hope. Hence, I go on school field trips with Evan, take
days off to spend time with him, and although he may never remember
these times himself, I will, and I chronicle the events as best as
technology allows me via this blog and my digital photos/videos.
My illness did not come for free,
however. There are some residual effects that will probably never go
away, but they are minor and manageable. I have lost some of my
patience. I was never a patient person to begin with, but things get
under my skin a little more easily than before. Projects around the
house, which inevitably present some obstacles, are less tolerable
than before, and now I'm more inclined to pay for someone else to
deal with it than work through it myself. Over the past year, I have
learned to deal with this lack of patience much better than my first
months back home, and this may be the one aspect that can return to
“normal.”
I have bouts of nervousness and can get
stressed out more easily. This happened as recently as early
December, when the combined pressures of preparing for Evan's
birthday, Christmas, and accumulating work pressures demanding
immediate results became too much for me. I made it through the day,
barely, but my stress level was noticeable to my colleagues. This is
also something that I can learn to manage better by applying my
newfound perspective and not caring as much (about work).
I drink half as much coffee as I used
to, but a surgeon, I'll never be. My hands are not nearly as steady
as they once were, and my handwriting, which was never exemplary, is
sometimes illegible. I've noticed some improvement and it may return
through months of practice.
My golf game has regressed several
years. I had become accustomed to lowering my score progressively
through the summer by playing weekly with co-workers, but 2011 only
saw consistency in my random errors...too random to pinpoint specific
areas to practice. I am not completely lost, but have added 5-10
strokes to my game. In the big picture, this is nothing to lose sleep
over, and again, perhaps there is hope that this coming year will
result in improvement.
It is most unfortunate that this
happened to my family and friends. It was far worse for them to
experience than for me. I do have some memories of my times in the
hospital and rehab, but much of it I will never remember, for my
brain was just not working properly back then. What's more puzzling
is the vivid memories I do have of that time that make no sense at
all. Mostly, I had thought I was sleeping in places other than a
hospital. They seemed so real, yet couldn't have happened.
That is all that comes to mind
regarding my “illness,” which, by the way, was never positively
identified by any doctors after months of testing. I am supremely
confident it will never happen again, and that will be enough to put
it behind me.
