It’s hard enough, dealing with this chronic illness on days when I am spiking a 9 or a 10 on the pain scale. But often I find myself grieving for the little things this illness has taken away from me.
My hands used to be my favorite physical feature, petite and elegant. Now they are constantly swollen so badly that I can’t remember the last time I was able to wear my engagement ring.
I used to have a great walk, confident, graceful, and easy. Now it’s more of a shuffling, lumbering limp.
And along with my hands, my feet are also really swollen, so much so that they no longer fit in my Birkenstocks, which meant that now I officially had zero pairs of shoes I could wear that would not hurt my feet.
I was crying about this in the bathtub last night, when my husband came in to see me. I told him about my shoes and he immediately said, “Well, baby, why don’t we adjust the buckles to make them a little looser?”
So he did.
And then I had my favorite shoes back again, and can now walk with a little less pain.
And then world became just a teeny, tiny bit brighter.