Happy Tuesday and Day 103 of Another 100 Days of Hannah… and Counting, y’all!
First things first: I’m pretty sure I just heard a crash in a cabinet that I haven’t put anything in for a long time.
Y’all know what that most likely means… mice.
Hopefully not. After my house manager adventure in optometry school where we survived a mouse-pocalypse, I’d really love to never have a mouse problem again.
So, I’m currently trying to disregard what I heard… and actively refusing to look in that cabinet. I don’t wanna know what’s in there!
And, even more so, I don’t want whatever’s in there to come running out at me.
In any case… what to blog about today?
Last night/this morning, a good friend and I were talking through some of her long-haul COVID symptoms, how she’s managing, etc.
For a general background: she had a pretty mild case of COVID, probably two months ago, and has been experiencing fatigue and weird symptoms ever since.
There’s something I can always relate to.
I definitely haven’t fully researched the topic, but from what it sounds, a plethora of weird symptoms post-COVID is pretty common, and can be rather debilitating.
Like, marathoners who suddenly can’t shower without begin exhausted.
Or, doctors who have brain fog so bad that they suddenly can’t remember how to manage a condition or perform a procedure.
(And obviously anything in between.)
But yet, their very real symptoms are dismissed because they don’t ‘make sense’.
If you haven’t noticed, this is a pretty common trend in traditional western medicine…
Admittedly, part of me hopes that the symptoms being experienced by long-haul COVID patients brings greater awareness to conditions that many people have been invisibly suffering from for years.
Maybe, with such widespread, well-documented, inexplicable symptoms presenting, something will finally change and patients can at least be able to be honest with their doctors without being considered crazy.
One can hope anyway, right?
If I’m honest, my host of generally ‘unexplained’ symptoms are probably what made me go into the field of neuro-rehab.
When I was working with TBI patients in optometry school, many of them had long-standing residual deficits that their traditional doctors had called ‘crazy’.
To be able to look them in the eye and say,
‘I believe you. I may not be able to find all the answers on what’s causing your problems, but I believe that they’re real, and will do my best to find any ocular causes of your complaints’
Because for once there was hope.
Because understanding gives hope.
So often in chronic conditions it feels like there is little hope.
You never know what the day will entail.
You never know how your body or mind will react.
And it’s easy to live in constant fear that today might be even worse than yesterday.
Which is made worse when it feels like no one understands.
But, y’all, we have hope.
Read this passage from Romans 5:
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope.
And hope does not put us to shame.
In another translation this reads: and hope does not disappoint.
Y’all, we have hope in this life through Christ.
He is our hope.
And His hope?
It doesn’t disappoint.
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