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Two Steps forward, 8 Steps back

I guess I spoke too soon. It seems like every time I have a victory, my body reminds me that I'm sick. Last week was lovely. I was feeling strong and able-bodied. I fainted Friday but I got back up and had a nice weekend with my family and friends. 

Sunday evening, I could feel my body starting to tire. With thesis deadlines, the show coming up, and the excitement of feeling even just a little bit more normal, I ignored my fatigue. 

Monday was an exciting day for me. One of my favorite political journalists was visiting my campus and my Media and Politics professor, who is also my thesis advisor, was hosting a dinner for him. Being the blessing of a professor that she is, she sat me next to him and I got to pick his brain for a three course meal. As I sat there talking to him about Trump-fever and Jeb Bush's pathetic campaign, I could feel my mind beginning to fog. 

I got through the dinner and his talk that followed, but most of his talk was blurred in my mind. I couldn't focus on anything other than my spotty vision and nauseous stomach. I made it to rehearsal at 8:30 but my mind failed me repeatedly and I just kept asking "Line?" 

Finally, I asked my director if I could go home. I was tired and dizzy and mentally blurry. Caleb picked my up from reheasal and walked me back to our dorm building. As I came out of the elevator, I fainted. 

I woke up to Caleb holding my hand and saying my name repeatedly while Anna stroked my face. Both of them looked worried and they told me that I was out for 2 minutes. I woke up briefly but then passed back out for another 30 seconds. This was one of my worst episodes.

My awesomely attentive neurologist (have I ever ranted about how awesome he is? Cause he is seriously great) told me to rest for a few days and the health center agreed, so my Tuesday and Wednesday consisted of a lot of sleep and thesis work in my bed. 

4 faints, 2 migraines, and a few days of double doses of fludrocortisone and I'm feeling a bit better. Not great, but better. 

Bad spells like this make it hard to go to class. They make it hard to focus and get work done. They  are inconvenient. But worst of all, they make it hard to keep faith. I'm back in the wheelchair for a while and I'd be lying if I said that that didn't make me cry. I'm trying to keep it all in perspective and I'm trying to have faith in God's plan or my own resilence or the karma fates or something, but some days are just really hard to stay positive. 

Also, Caleb saw me cry. So damn. 
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