It’s hard to imagine that there would be something worse in my life than being diagnosed with lupus and RA.
Maybe the universe views me as cavalier for thinking that way.
In some ways, it does feel cavalier now, because I have been hit with something worse and it is really wearing me down.
The day I was “officially” diagnosed with lupus and RA, I left the doctor’s office feeling like my life had irrevocably changed, but that no one was really aware of the change except for me.
Those three words:
You are sick
I guess the only words that would have hit me harder would have been:
You are dying.
But now there are three words that will truly haunt me forever:
Dad passed away.
I’m 29. My Dad was 62.
I’m too young for this, too.
I think it’s interesting that when I considered horrible occurrences, I considered them in regard to myself. Like me being diagnosed with multiple chronic, incurable diseases, was the worst it could get.
But now I find myself totally crushed by something that has happened to someone else in my life, someone who I loved with all my heart.
In thinking about the five stages of grief, I think I’m somewhere between the first stage, denial and isolation, and the second stage, anger.
There are times when none of this feels real, like it’s a nightmare that I’m going to wake up from.
It’s hard for me to be around people right now, unless they are family or close friends.
It’s hard to be around people whose mood doesn’t match my own. The world moves on, while my Dad cannot, while I cannot.
I am angry at the universe. I don’t understand why my Dad deserved for this to happen, and I don’t understand why my family deserved for this to happen.
My mom is 59. My sister is 19. In the last three years, my grandmother has buried two sons and a husband.
Sometimes life is just not fair.
I hope that there is nothing worse that happens. Right now I cannot even fathom what that would be.
But when I got sick, I couldn’t imagine that being sick wouldn’t be my biggest problem. But now it’s not.