Heavy

I woke up from a nap a few hours ago. Almost every day I nap at some point in the afternoon, and I do it really well -- my naps are nearly indistinguishable from coma. Although I enjoy napping, I also hate that so much of my day is often taken up by sleep. I'm feeling a general sense of dissatisfaction; I wish I felt like I was learning something useful about life, or about myself, during this period of disability/recuperation. If I were, I feel that maybe I'd at least be able to help other people somehow. I have been trying to cull my thoughts and emotions from the last three months to look for lessons or truths that I've realized especially because of this experience, but it's tough. A lot of the time I feel like kind of a waste of space, like a girl who's been turned into an extra umbrella stand. Baby helps with this, now, though; her bubbling movements make me realize that she, at least, needs me -- a lot!


I guess I can offer the wise observation that staying "in the moment," as they say, is helpful. I only know this because I'm so bad at it that I have very clearly seen the benefit during the brief moments that I've succeeded in focusing on the here and now, rather than worrying about the future or lamenting the past. It's a rule I honor in the breach, though, I admit.


Today we were back at Hopkins, at the neuro-opthalmology department. Dr. Miller, et al, again -- although his fellows changed; Dr. Chong and his sidekick were gone, so we missed out on the Chinese Mutt & Jeff. We spent an hour or so and he told us that in fact, my perceptions are correct, and my vision is getting better -- just very, very slowly (he invoked the tortoise). I always get a headache when they mess about with my eyes, and if you've ever been to Hopkins' Wilmer Eye Institute, you know that the walk from the parking deck is cripplingly long. Add to that the afternoon physical therapy appointment and the evening visit with the kids we had and you can understand that I am now rather tired. Like, passing-out tired.


The new physical therapists are giving me a lot more to do, especially leg exercises. Although I tire very quickly, I love doing them because it feels good to move, to be reminded of what it's like to maneuver around like a normal person. I also like the exercises because they make me see that I'm getting stronger, and I love the feeling of progress, slow as it is. "Sure beats just sitting around, waiting to get better," the therapist said today. Where has she been all this time?! I couldn't agree more.


Maybe that's another useful lesson I have learned during all this: don't take your physical health for granted. I mean that so sincerely. It's not as though I was some great athlete before this all happened, or even that I had a particularly cordial relationship with my body, but I was able to walk, and dance, as evidenced by that laughing bride on the wedding video. Now I can't wait, can't WAIT, to be able to do those things again. To be able to walk around with a baby in my arms, to carry a platter of food to the table, to swim across the pool. I know I'll be able to again, and I am very much looking forward to the day. If you are due for a physical checkup, please go get it. Don't take the amazing gifts of movement and strength for granted.


But what do I know, anyway. This makes me think of something I thought about a lot when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder: would I have traded being me for being mentally healthy? Stay with me: a lot of things I like about myself, like my IQ, my artistic ability, even my tendency to overanalyze everything and my impulsiveness, are traits commonly associated with bipolar disorder. When you find out that you have a serious, chronic mental illness like bipolar, and when you realize with the aid of hindsight how much of your life pre-diagnosis was ruled by forces you didn't understand and had no control over, I think it's natural to wonder whether if you'd had the choice you'd still rather be crazy you than sane someone else.


So, the obvious parallel to today occurs to me: would I have traded being a mom for being healthy?