"1. The grief we feel over the life we’ve lost may re-emerge now and then…indefinitely.
2. We can feel as if we’re letting you down even though you’ve repeatedly told us that we’re not.
3. Being chronically ill can be embarrassing."
She elaborates in explanation of each one of these revelations and calls this a chronic illness. I had never thought of it in those terms, but, indeed, that is true. I am chronically struggling to balance in my slanted teeter-totter world and to hear precious voices, music, sounds of nature, sounds to alert me to danger. I am chronically stressed and exhausted from the effort. Yes, it is a chronic illness.
My yoga class has taught me so much. For instance, this morning, while preparing my simple breakfast, I noticed that my jaw was clenched. I had not realized that there was so much effort involved in just moving about my kitchen. I stopped and took a few deep yoga breaths, relaxed my jaw and lowered my shoulders before I continued what should have been a simple chore.
Those of you who have kept up with my blog from the beginning know that I have been tested twice for cochlear implants and, by FDA/Medicare standards, I have not qualified. A new audiogram and VNG (balance test) indicate that I have lost slightly more hearing and balance on the right. I now qualify for the implants, but I am told that there is a chance that the procedure might adversely affect balance. As I am nearly equally imbalanced left and right side, I have chosen to not take the chance of disturbing one or the other. I am still hoping to be selected to participate in a University of Washington study of vestibular implants though I've heard nothing in response to my application.
To my grandchildren, I am sorry that I cannot be the fun, active, energetic grandmother that I want to be.
To my friends, I am sorry when I must tell you "No, I'm just too tired." or "No, I can't drive there." or "No, I won't enjoy it because I don't hear well enough."
To my children, I am sorry that I have become needy and no longer independent. I need you. I need to hear your voice, to do little things for me, to know that you care.
NAMASTE.
