I’ve been home from New York for nearly a week now…and I’m still recovering. Emotionally. Physically.
It was a much needed trip to add some normalcy to our otherwise ‘school, work, doctor’ routine. It was a much needed trip to remind me that I am more than my illness and I am capable of greatness even with this illness.
But most importantly, it reminded me of how far we’ve come.
This carefree couple that haphazardly ended up together in the oddest of ways, never fully believing what we were doing until we were so far in we couldn’t imagine life any other way. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows and everything in between. I was content to just have some time in a quiet hotel room with my best friend, spending more than a few minutes without being interrupted by the need for more chocolate milk or help with a video game.
And then returning home with a thud, as most vacations do, to absent chauffeurs and delayed flights and kids in need of extra attention and cars breaking down and doctors delivering treatment and news of what a simple flight across the country does to my body.
But we did it. And we had fun. And I managed to remind myself OF myself while there. The self he fell in love with that I am fighting to bring back through all this bullshit piled on us. Just being capable of doing it helped me reach an arm out and break through- grabbing him and holding tight.
He’s still here. I’m still here.
NYC, I thank you, even if you battered me a bit. As my doctor said…’these numbers are nothing compared to the smile I see on your face. Next time I’ll send you for longer!’