the before and the after

I have been told that writing can be cathartic, even theraepeutic. In September of 2021, everything for me changed. It started with an awful sore throat and just feeling bad. Then a headache. Then, I couldnt hear, it felt like my ears had been sealed shut. Last, I lost my sense of smell and taste, completely. I thought I would be lucky and that would be it. I was wrong.

I was schooling everyone at home then and I had started to notice that I was having a hard time reading more than one sentence out loud to the kids. Then I started noticing that I couldnt walk from our couch to our bathroom without feeling like I needed to lie down. My first trip to the ER yeilded double pnuemonia and my first vagus nerve incident in which I passed out while getting an IV. I was constantly out of breath. My heart was constantly pounding. I couldnt shake how tired I felt.

Months passed. A few years passed. This is long covid. Lasting effects? *A bilateral profound hearing loss. I've gotten used to the quiet, but I also have hearing aids now. *A heart rate that can only be controlled by medication. (pre-covid ave heart rate: 60, post covid at rest ave heart rate:145). *I pass out randomly. Nothing really triggers it. Sometimes, I just stay dizzy for days, as if I'm on a ship in the Drake Passage and a storm has hit. *It seems as if I have no immune system. I catch anything and everything that is going around. *My energy level tanked. I have what some call chronic fatigue syndrome. I can make myself do things, but then I bottom out and I'm dragging horribly for days if not weeks. *my body HURTS. my joints ache. my muscles throb. I limp while stooped over when I get out of bed in the morning. *I have supplemental oxygen for when my oxygen drops into the 80s and it always drops into the 80s when I am active. I dont know why but I have issue using my oxygen. Ive been shamed a few times when wearing it, mostly (I think) because I look healthy so why would I have oxygen.

so now? I feel like a shadow of my former athletic self. I gained over 50lbs in the throws of sickness and was quite often told if i would just lose the weight, I would feel better, be able to do more, and breathe easier. So I lost close to 70lbs with absolutely NO change in my health. All the same symptoms, just a nicer looking body to go with it. I was given anti depressants, anti anxiety meds and I swear less than half the doctors believed anything I told them. Why? Because everyone seems content putting bandaids on the bullet wounds. I would say this cannot be normal and they would answer, well, you had covid, so this is your new normal.

I lost a huge portion of who I was: the girl on the softball field. the athletic girl. the active girl. She is gone. I'm the tired girl. The girl my kids groan at and roll their eyes to because I'm too tired to do all the things they wanted to that day- the things I used to be able to do. I dont think this should be called depression. I lost so much with covid. I feel broken. And I do not believe an anti depressant will somehow make me forget this or fix this. I FEEL it every day.

So now I live in the after. The land where I fake a smile and nod at doctors and diligently take my medicine and I stay stuck right where I am. I've done all the right things and nothing has changed. I forced myself to walk every day, so much so that when the month ended I could hardly believe that we had walked 70+ miles (this may be small potatoes to some but to the girl who couldnt walk to her own bedroom at night, this was huge). My body certainly felt it, though. I pushed through the tired. I forced myself to do more than any part of my body ever wanted me to do and I am still paying for it.

My frustration is palpable. Chronic illness, chronic pain, chronic tiredness. I am tired, both mentally and physically. I want some version of normal to resurface. I feel like no matter how hard I swim, I am being pulled under. So for now, while hopefully temporarily stuck in the after, I dream about hikes I can take with my family, map out walks that I cannot yet do, and plan for a future that I no longer am sure exists...and I hope for the best.

Once again, it has been a while. Things are nearly the same as always. Our oldest has grown up, moved out, has a great job, a nice home, a great guy, and we are proud of who she is becoming. So now, we are one less than a family of seven. After lots of thought and debate and research, we decided to homeschool all the remaining kids, traditionally. At first it was like learning to walk again, or what I presume learning to walk again would feel like. It was scary and never felt like enough. Now? I have full curriculums (curricula?) for more than just their current grades, books upon books upon books, extracurricular work and activities, and so many science experiments that I could rival Bill Nye the Science Guy.

I'm dealing with grief. I lost both my mamaw and my papaw. One to cancer- my papaw, and one to alzheimer's- my mamaw. I never got to say goodbye- and not because of anyone- nothing like that. I stopped myself, out of fear. I was afraid to say goodbye. I was afraid to say love you for the last time.

I spent nearly my entire childhood in their yard and in their home, and mostly on one or the other's lap. When I got older, Sunday's were reserved at their place- just to hang out. I came over to work on homework, whenever I needed help, or needed advice. Mamaw taught me to read on her lap, reading book after book to me until I started reading to her. My papaw put a new swing set in their yard almost every year to make sure we had a safe place to play. Their yard was filled with an abundance of kittens to cuddle, and their kitchen always smelled like dinner.

I miss them. I miss them so freaking much. I miss papaw sitting on the breezeway. I miss mamaw telling me how talking to flowers helps them grow better. I miss her teaching me the names of various flowers, telling me a story about a rose bush that grew from a stick, and allowing me to plant a tree in their yard. I miss papaw giving me sound advice on all things useful from what I should unplug when I leave for a vacation to when a turkey should be taken out of the freezer to thaw. I miss hearing both of them laugh. I miss sitting on the porch, swinging and singing Christmas songs at the top of our lungs in the middle of July. I miss reciting "One dark, but moonlit night.." I miss helping prepare for papaw's famous grilled chicken and any dessert mamaw was planning. I miss life lessons with papaw. I miss the smell of his cigarettes. I miss the Schwann's man coming and mamaw ordering extra chicken patties because all the kids ate them. I miss koolaid and tang. I miss pancakes. Games of Life and Monopoly...and everyone's favorite: Mousetrap. I miss papaw snoring on the couch. I miss hugging them, because even though I am not a hugger- mamaw always hugged me extra tight- once for her and once for me. It didnt bother her at all that I wasnt good at hugs.

The childhood I had is long gone. The childhood I wanted for my kids isn't there anymore. No more are Sunday dinners, let alone family gatherings. No gathering of cousins. I never saw what the matriarch and patriarch held together until it all fell away to silence.

I had thought if I wrote out my feelings, I might feel something other than sadness...but instead I find myself staring off into space and remembering moments, books, laughter, the love yous, and all the hugs we gave.