After more than 4 months of non-stop battling and being away from work for more than 2, I’ve come to several realizations.
I am generally someone who is used to setting schedules. Complete task A by next week, achieve task B in 2 days. That sort of thing. I like milestones. It’s just my programmer’s/management instincts at work. Progress has to be in the form of something trackable so I feel more encouraged.
But apparently, you can’t force a schedule on your body’s recovery.
I’ve aimed to “get well by June”. Didn’t work. “Okay, two more weeks to settle things.” Didn’t work either. “Okay, I give it until end of July.” Nope, nope, nope. The fever continued and I got more and more frustrated.
Eventually, I decided to let my body set its own pace. And I put myself into zen mode. Stop forcing my body, stop overthinking, overanalyzing. Just do what I need to do to help – complete rest, lots of water, meds.
Instead. I set schedules on my action plans. If I don’t feel better in 5 days, do X. If minimal improvement in 2 weeks, do Y.
X and Y may or may not help. Usually it doesn’t. But at least, it’s some semblance of control. This whole thing was seemingly out of my control and I didn’t like it.
Not giving up, and looking forward to better days.
Though it’s getting a little harder, considering how it’s been 2 months and counting.
I’m pretty much home-ridden now. And no matter how I had sought to make my room my ‘ultimate hang out spot’ much earlier this year, I realized it’s possible to get absolutely sick of it.
Work kept me going for a while, until I found it difficult to navigate stairs. After 3 close-to-passing-out moments in and around the office, I made the difficult decision to work from home.
Many a time, I find myself missing my normal life.
Going to work every weekday like a regular person.
Having the freedom to just get out of the house to walk anywhere I want, whenever I want.
Having regular conversations with people that do not revolve around health and “eh, what happened to you?”.
I’m still trying to psych myself into thinking that there is a good side to all these. Like hey, you still CAN work (albeit from home). You have not lost your mental capacity to write amazing code. You’re still making a worthwhile contribution to society. (As for the mental capacity to think rationally, well … that’s rather debatable now.)
And the fact that mum and I are much, much closer than before. She’s been really supportive the past 2 months and a half, taking me out for drives when I whine about being too bored at home, spending all her free time with me in the hospital when I was admitted, stocking the house with ample supplies of isotonic drinks and uh, comfort food.
Not to mention how much I prefer to be alone right now and home is the perfect place for me to get all reclusive. (And I’m still pretty much ignoring all my texts as well – sorry, friends. Really. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.)
And that every day is a step closer to full recovery (I hope). I still feel like crap now but I guess I just have to be patient.