Fear and Loathing in SLC

I have a fear...

Yes. Only one fear.

Riiiiiiight.

If life were only that simple. It's not. But this one fear is really eating at me. And I know that fearing/worrying is planning so I am sitting here recognizing this fear in hopes that the recognition is going to kick this fear's ass out the door...

My fear? I may never be healthy again. And I loathe that thought.

Since my seven-week journey through the West Nile, I have not yet got to be my own, whole self. I have not felt the pep that I had on September 3, 2007, the day before I began the trek into the Nile. And, while I struggled and lumbered through the mire of that illness, I continually sought refuge through remembering how I once was. And the thought of perhaps I will never be that person again plagued me every step of the way.

Turns out, I am not that person anymore. That Angie died in the feverish depths of the Nile. The me that I once was is now gone. And it has been like mourning the death of a loved one. At times, I have felt as though I am a stranger in my own body. I look at myself in the mirror and do not recognize the features. And, apparently, the change is obvious to those around me. Many people who know me actually stare at me for some time before saying, "Something's different about you."

Yes. I know it is. And I am scared about that. At 39 years old, I am brand new. How do I do this?

My immune system is fragile and weak from traveling through the Nile. Thus, I catch every damn illness that skips past me. Today, I am experiencing a sinus infection that has my head feeling like it is stuck in a vice grip and stuffed with saturated, bloated sponges.

I feel angry that I am experiencing sickness. I feel angry that my life mantra seems to be "Ick. I am feeling icky right now." I feel angry that, just as I started to have a glimpse of a full life, I am knocked flat on my ass again. I feel angry that I am writing, yet again, about being sick because sickness is what is in my life at this moment. I am angry that I am starting to sound like my progenitors who diagnose themselves with every popular illness one could catch. I am angry that I am sick.

I want to be well. I want to be strong. I want to accomplish all that I am meant to accomplish.

No amount of positive mental attitude-ing this or holding space for health or playing with this or loving myself for creating it... none of that New Age bullshit is helping me. No amount of knowing that I am whole and well and perfect in this moment is helping me. No amount of rest and natural remedies are helping me. No amount of medicine is turning me back to life.

I fear this is what I have in store for the rest of my life. And I loathe that thought...