You’re going to go on living. Because living is the challenge, Josie.

Marchetta, M. (1992). Looking For Albrandi. Penguin Books.

I started writing this entry a few months ago before the pandemic became a pandemic. We now have a new generation of quaranteens and an even more unhealthy addiction to Netflix. Everyone is struggling in this trying time. Despite how difficult it is to see, this will end. It’s not permanent and I take solace in that. Permanence is a terrifying reality. People have suggested I write about the current COVID-19 crisis, but I’ve been struggling with my issues too and couldn’t find what to say. I have faith this will end, and while the impacts will continue long after the conclusion, we still will be able to deal with what comes. At the moment we need to look out for each other, from a distance of course. Acknowledge that some people are more at risk, and we mustn’t further that risk. Thank you, for doing your part, whether it’s simply staying at home, or working on the frontlines of the pandemic.

I can’t provide any wise insights on how to cope with this. Everyone has their own ways and you’ll discover it yourself. Understand that everyone is experiencing this, and take solace in knowing that you aren’t alone. I will share the entry I wrote a while ago, simply because I want to share it.

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I just said to my friend that I was trying to write but life got in the way. And it did. Does. But I don’t want to use that excuse anymore. Life is difficult. So very difficult and I could rattle on and on about how difficult my life is, but no one wants to hear the plot to a depressing telenovela. So instead I say my health has been lacking, and with it went my drive. In the past few months, I’ve been in and out of the hospital, trialling new treatments and hunting for hand sanitiser. Unfortunately, when health is being particularly troublesome, you can’t hit the pause button on everything else. I’m drowning in missed schoolwork, assessments, and exams. I’ve not seen my friends in so long. I can’t maintain my relationships or my quality of life. But hey, at least we still have some toilet paper.

Let’s talk a bit about the last hospital stay. I was in the hospital for a week. UTI with debris in the bladder and kidneys. This was a tricky bug, not the kind where you can go to the GP, grab a prescription and be on your merry little way, the kind where you wait for hours in the fluorescent lights of the ED just wishing you had a way to cut out all the screaming children and piercing pain in your temple. In hindsight this wait wasn’t as bad as usual, after a day there, I was admitted, it’s not always that quick.

The teen ward. A fascinating place really. To me it feels like some people stay there so long it’s like they become ghosts of their former selves… until you come across someone who can still manage a smile that lights up the room. In any case, it remains a hospital. People don’t often stay there for more than a few days unless it’s a long-term illness. To some, the hospital is home. The patients have their own community and the staff becomes their family.

Do you have a person? A Meredith to your Christina? Perhaps a Lorelai to your Rory? A Toretto to your O’Connor? I have a person. This person wheeled me around in a wheelchair, unbothered by my catheter bag which I am fairly certain was in direct vision… oops TMI? This person stayed after visiting hours so we could mould terrible clay creations in Livewire. This person skipped school so they could come and sit in a hospital bed. They sat by my side in the hospital cot and didn’t once complain about the wires and tubes that were coming out of me from every which direction and surrounding them like tangled headphones. This person is my person. This person is the food to my Joey.

This person and I were sitting on the bed playing SkipBo when entered the pain specialist. The pain doctor, because I – guys, gals, and non-binary pals – have been in never-ceasing pain for over five years. Yay team! I contracted chronic pain after major reconstructive surgery and a series of infections, it may not seem like much, but the effects can be debilitating. There are of course those days where I’m prepared to go to a concert and get squashed in a mosh pit; smol bean life. But some days the pain is so bad I can’t walk, can’t breathe, just can’t. This day was the latter. This week was the latter. In walked the doctor and after that initial awkward greeting experienced by many a doctor and patient, he dealt himself into the game. While playing, we discussed all the medical gibberish. It’s a smart technique surprisingly, it relieves the pressure of a doctor’s interrogation. We went through all the basics. Have you eaten? What level is your pain at? He had many questions to sift through, and I had a single one.

Will the pain ever go away?

My voice broke amidst asking the question. The doctor looked down in response. He’d heard this question before. He knew what I wanted to hear. He couldn’t say what I wanted to hear. I almost cried but didn’t. Crying would be admitting that it was real. And it couldn’t be. Crying would mean that my person would cry too. That would escalate everything and next thing you know we’ve flooded the hospital. Who wants their person to cry?

The issue with this question is that you can’t get a straight answer. Doctors can’t promise healing. They can prescribe meds, suggest treatments. They can’t promise healing. In response to this question, well he basically said that, just more doctorly. This to me was earth-shattering. It is an impossible task to every day, live as if you remember how it feels to be so blissfully painless. Many can understand this, and others cannot begin to comprehend the hardships experienced. All I know is that at that moment, there was a single word circulating my head. Permanent. And that is terrifying.

Since the hospital, this conversation has taken a toll on me. I’m just so damn tired. And the pain is still there. And that’s scary. But I’m trying. Some days there seems no hope. Some days its better. Maybe it’s why I’ve been avoiding writing.

To everyone who is trying, keep trying. I am too. We’ll get there someday. Wherever ‘there’ is.

Almost there.

Almost.

P.S. thank you, my person, and to everyone else, go thank your persons.

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Please note that this text isn’t a representation of COVID-19, I wrote this when I was struggling with unrelated issues. My problems are minuscule now, but they’re still there and still problems. I’m still struggling and I’m still trying. I know everyone is struggling with the world’s problems as well as their own but you gotta keep going. Keep talking to your person. Keep some degree of normalcy. Have some fun. It will get better.

Most importantly, binge all da Netflix baby.

References:

Home. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://livewire.org.au/?gclid=CjwKCAjw1v_0BRAkEiwALFkj5txVLGcDXQKh2R_D2oAlkjfkQF6WMQW2Ux6iyiyvxK-4YTQ5-2QaSBoCMpMQAvD_BwE

Gilmore Girls. (2000, October 5). Retrieved from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0238784/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

The Fast and the Furious. (2001, June 22). Retrieved from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0232500/

Grey’s Anatomy. (2005, March 27). Retrieved from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0413573/

Warner Bros. TV. (2017, February 7). Joey Tribiana + Food . Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTLzbqun7lI

Australian Government Department of Health. (2020, April 22). Coronavirus (COVID-19) health alert. Retrieved from https://www.health.gov.au/news/health-alerts/novel-coronavirus-2019-ncov-health-alert