My first anniversary of the onset of my chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy is just days away and I am all abuzz with excitement. The symptoms appeared at the beginning of March, but I went into the hospital on March 19th; I am not sure which date will earn the badge of being the most significant. That is not quite sarcasm. Perhaps June First would be a better date; that is when Dr. Boughaba correctly diagnosed my chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy (and the date I began to improve). I don't really believe that the actual dates mean anything. They are more like convenient markers that can measure the distance I am getting away from the horrid events of 2010.
What is significant is the increasing frequency of the little flashes I am experiencing of the awful times. Those suck. The noble (and, ironically, easiest) thing to do would be to just shove that stuff back down the drain it welled out of and keep it private, but I am not the strong. It is unpleasant to be happily going along and suddenly remember this or that happened; then I fall back into those tortuous moments and the accompanying emotions.
Blogger Missy Y. describes her particular anniversary in way that is very familiar to what I am feeling and experiencing right now, much better than I could. Check out her post here. I found it quite inspiring and uplifting.
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