All this whilst holing up in my truck through a record nearly 3 weeks of storms lashing the central California coast. Relentless dark days of wind and torrential rain. I should have gotten a room for a week or two rather than enduring all that in Hella. But, I wasn’t thinking clearly and I kept thinking the next day would be better. Better days didn’t happen until about week 5. It was the longest and most brutal illness I have ever experienced. I learned a great deal from the experience and will do things differently if ever faced with something like that again.
I have lived a physically blessed adult life. No chronic illness or conditions of any kind. I did contract Pertussis in 2012 and that scarred my lungs which was definitely a factor in how hard Covid hit me. Thankfully, I exercise regularly so my lungs were pretty strong when Covid came along. All the same, not having ever experienced anything like this, I didn’t take it seriously soon enough. I’m grateful to have survived my lack of prompt action on my health’s behalf. It’s testament to how strong my system is, but has also shown me how much smarter I have to be in the future with something like this. I don’t feel 57, but I am, and I have to take these things more seriously.
There were several feverish, disoriented nights when I was fearful things were going to take a worse turn. When sleep would come I thought about what if this was it? I have often said that when I lay down to sleep at night I do so happy with my life and with no regrets. That if this was my last day, I know I lived it fully and with purpose. That’s easy to say when you’re healthy. At my most frightening moments with Covid, I was definitely thinking, ‘Please, don’t let this be the end!’. It was truly frightening being too weak to do anything for myself in those moments. To make matters even worse, I lost my voice in the middle of all that. I literally couldn’t have called 911 if I needed to. Of course, I could have texted my daughter and she would have been my voice. Knowing she was there for me if I needed help was a huge deal and I should have made better use of her offers to help me. I was just so afraid to get anyone else sick because of me. And maybe there’s still just a little bit of those old issues of low self worth knocking about in my attic that kept me from asking for help. Ugh!
There’s a crazy level of vulnerability that comes when one is unable to speak and it totally caught me off guard. Basically, I lost all the power I’m used to having. It turns out I had a bit too much pride regarding my independence. Being brought so low by Covid and losing my voice has focused me on some things I need to work on-
Knowing I’m worthy of help and asking for it.
Taking better care of my body and health.
Digging deeper into my purpose with more determination.
It drives me nuts what it takes for me to learn these lessons sometimes! Thankfully, I don’t believe I’ll need a similar reminder to keep me on track. This has been a huge reality check regarding the miraculously wonderful life I’m living and it’s value. It has also set me even more passionately on my path with the portrait gifting. Lately, with my resources dwindling I had been getting nervous about the slow growth in support for the work I’m doing. I’m done worrying about that. I will run this thing out with all my heart to the absolute end of my resources. If that happens, I’ll deal with it then. In my heart I believe the support will continue to grow as I do the work of gifting families.
So, all in all, getting slammed by the Rona has brought me to a better place. I’m grateful to have survived and for all that the experience has taught me.
Lastly, and this may seem weird to you, but I’d like to express my gratitude for this truck. Anyone who knows anything about this rig knows how much regular maintenance goes into keeping her running smoothly. For her to just work reliably without issue for that six weeks of extreme weather right on the ocean coast is remarkable. I was so grateful every time I hit the starter and she fired right up.
