We have good days and bad days. All of us. I didn’t think much of them when I was well. It simply was either a good or bad day, and I knew the bad days would pass and I would have a better day tomorrow or maybe the next day.
It’s all different now.
When you have a chronic illness, the bad days are the norm. There are, of course, levels of badness. There are the normal bad days that pass as average to us. There are the really bad days which mean we have to stay in bed all day. But, honestly, most days are some level of bad. Sure, they aren’t all miserable and horrible. They are just days when our bodies hurt. When our functioning is compromised by pain or disability.
Yesterday, I had a good day.
It was maybe my first really good day since I started getting sick. It was a damned good day. I had very little pain. I was high-functioning. I was able to do things like clean out my closet, go through old clothes and sort out for Goodwill, take care of general household chores. I was able to do things.
It was pretty great, honestly. I had to try to pace myself but it was hard not to try to cram everything into that good day. After all, I don’t get many so I figured I should take advantage. By the end of the day I was tired, worn out, achy. But no pain pills yesterday, so that was pretty great, too.
Today, I woke up and I didn’t feel too bad. I thought- hey, cool, maybe another good day. And then I got out of bed and could barely walk.
Today, I am having a bad day.
And it sucks, after having experienced a good day yesterday. It sucks. But at least now I know a good day is possible. I know it might happen again. So, today, the thing that can get me through the bad day, is that the little possibility; what has to get me through all of this is hope.
The New Normal 