Grief is a funny thing. Most people associate it with the loss of a loved one and everyone processes it differently. For some it’s all consuming and others it can come in waves or even be delayed and suddenly hit you.
I am currently grieving my own loss of a loved one. I’m grieving the loss of myself whom I loved dearly. Since getting ill 11 months ago after my Pfizer jab with every passing day, week and month I’ve lost a little more of myself and what made me me. I’m grieving the loss of my life, though I’m still here living and breathing. I’m a different me. The me I am now is in permanent pain, often unable to get out of bed and do normal daily activities like cooking, cleaning and some days I don’t even have it in me to wash. There I said it. Call me stinky Pete.
I’ve lost a lot in this time. I’ve lost the ability to care for myself fully. I’ve lost the ability to continue powerlifting or any form of exercise. I don’t get to finally break that squat record I was ready for and had to back out of representing GB at the world championships. I’ve lost the ability to socialise to any meaningful extent. I’ve lost the ability to support those around me. Possibly the most hurtful one is that I’ve lost ability to walk and explore with Bella for more than 30 minutes 1-2 times a week. I don’t get to go to the beach with her, I don’t get to drive her to her favourite place in Frome, I don’t get to celebrate birthdays and other special occasions. I don’t get to make plans because every time I need to cancel another part of me breaks a little more. I don’t get to be excited for future events, because I don’t know that I’ll be able to be there. I don’t get to sit in the sun or just enjoy and evening bbq or sunset wine with my friends. I spend 80% of my life stuck in a dark room. I don’t get to work. I don’t get to drive much. I don’t get to live. And I have to accept that I require help now, from friends and family who help care for me and cover the things I can no longer do for myself.
I’ve had neurosurgery, nerve blocks, Botox, 5 different medications and the specialists are running out of options for me.
I am stuck in this state of sadness and grief for what I was, who I was and what I had. For a life lost. The little things that I most definitely took for granted are now pipe dreams. Imagine just for a moment being bed bound for most of you days and trying not to wallow in pity, grief and depression. When the tools for battling these things aren’t accessible to you. You know the usual good food, outdoors, fresh air and exercise , and surrounding yourself with loved ones. Doing the things you love. My only accessible tool is paying to put myself through private therapy every week.
I honestly don’t know how I’ve got this far, but I have and so I’ll continue to fight. Just 2 years ago I tried to commit suicide, but some how now, through all of this I’ve got the strength to fight and not allow myself to reach that point Because for all I’ve lost the odd occasions where I get a day where I am able to spend even just an hour with friends and family are worth their weight in gold. They power me through this period in my life. I have two more treatment options left ahead of me. As my surgeon said “that’s two lots of hope”. I was so mad at him when he said that, because how the hell can he expect me to have hope left. But I do, I have to. I have to find that within myself every day because what if one of those options allow me to rebuild myself and the life I had.
HC & Me 