Loss and Gain

I've lost some things recently - my best friend, back in January; a beloved honorary niece, in February; the little dog who saved my life three years ago, in July. My friend died of complications from a brain tumor. My niece was tragically killed in a terrible accident that took three of her friends as well. My little dog, Oskar, died of cancer the week after my birthday. Maybe it doesn't seem as though Oskar should be listed with these other, huge losses, but the people who know me understand that being listed with my dog means I really, really love the people I mentioned.

It has been a strange and terrible year. The recent rise in racial tensions, the troubling changes in our government, and the lack of leadership at the highest levels have combined to create a great deal of stress for most of us. The emotional pain of loss complicates that stress. That is why I have not written much in the past months; it takes most of my energy just to get through my days, work, and home. But in the midst of this kind of loss, I've made some important gains.

My health has gotten better, mostly because it had gotten so much worse. By the end of February, I could barely walk. My rheumatologist increased the frequency of dosage on my Humira. Slowly but surely, my body began to respond. We added a low dose of steroid daily, which also helped without causing negative side effects. As my joints became stronger and the pain lessened a bit, I was able to be more active. I have lost twenty-one pounds - which, of course, is another gain.

A few years ago, around the time I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease, I lost an important relationship. It is very difficult for me to trust, and I had allowed myself to trust this man completely. I was devastated when he broke up with me after a year and a half, without telling me why. I respect the fact that people have the right to end relationships when that is the best course for them, but I cannot respect the lack of closure, and his refusal to tell me what went wrong between us. I have dated a couple of times since then, but never seriously. Until recently, I have believed that I might never feel able to try another relationship, or to trust again. But as my health has changed this year, I find that my heart has also changed. I feel stronger, less fragile. I am still vulnerable, but to be human means accepting our vulnerability. I am almost ready to try again. Maybe in a few more months I'll find the courage to move forward with life.

The past eight months have been a strange series of gains and losses, but the scale is beginning to tip toward gain. I'll take that - I'm ready for life to start again.

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