Basking in a new world

Over the years, I have spent many a time in a hospital bed.  For weeks at a time, I would lie in traction with Scheurmann's Disease, with hardly a visitor to see me.

I recall every time my mother came in to see me, she would ask if my (then) husband had been in. The answer was no. In fact, he would drop me off at the hospital entrance and then take off speedily. I would only see him again when I got home.

It got so bad that I would never let him know that I was trying to pass a kidney stone or needed another bout of traction until the moment I had to be admitted for treatment. Then all hell would break loose. It was just a sad state of life wherein I wasn't noticed or wanted until a meal had to be cooked or a shirt ironed.

Of course, I would lay internalising why he wouldn't visit me, and the end result was captured in one solitary, heart breaking and mind numbing word: rejection.

In between hospital stays, I limped along life, serving my husband and family, yet feeling terribly alone and miserable.

In the course of time I left my abusive husband and married Chris 4 years after leaving. All came crashing around my ears when I got fibromyalgia. 

I came home from seeing my rheumatologist for my wide range chronic pain and fatigue, and along with a negative result for lupus, came the diagnosis of fibromyalgia.  The trip home seemed unbearably long as I rehearsed in my mind the scene of rejection again awaiting me with this latest news.

You can imagine my amazement when Chris made me a cup of tea as he listened to the diagnosis. He was the epitome of compassion and love. When he handed me my cup, he was astonished to see me burst into tears: not tears of pain like before, but tears of love, happiness and relief!

Holding me against himself, he said he was so relieved I didn't have lupus, and vowed to help me in any way he could with this new thing called fibromyalgia. 

He was true to his word and together we learned about this new enemy that threatened to destroy my happiness. We vowed to never give it the power over us to come between us.

Twenty two years later, we speak in terms of spoons and nana naps and Lists. Pacing and paracetamol and heat pads are our love language.  

As for the young woman watching out for her husband from behind the curtain: she has gone now, to be replaced by an older happier woman basking in a new world of love and that vital word for all fibromites: validation.