He let’s me be me… just wants to lick my feet in return.
I have decided to go back under the knife.
The decision was not made with haste. There was a lot of reflection, a lot of tears, a lot of discussions and weighing of options. But I have decided to move forward with the endolymphatic revision on my right ear. The hope is that there is a lot of scar tissue present wrecking havoc on my inner ear causing these severe symptoms.
Every day I feel different about it. Today I feel good about my decision. Tomorrow I may question it.
Today the warrior won out.
I am working on being positive. Trying to quiet the anger. It’s difficult. I have taught myself to question, assume the worst. I can’t let myself assume that surgery is going to be terrible. Or it will be. I have to tell myself that this is my option today. It will be my option tomorrow. I have Meniere’s Disease. I always will. Just typing those words is a struggle. I feel the anger licking at my insides. This surgery is my option right now. I will take it. My anger be damned. My fear be damned.
I have taken my lumps. Paid my dues. I am ready to begin the path to acknowledging that this thing is inside of me and always will be. The only way to escape it is death. That can’t be my legacy. I have to keep telling myself that knowing I have Meniere’s Disease and always will is not giving up. It does not mean I have to stop fighting. It just means I have to stop fighting myself. I have to somehow learn to define my Meniere’s Disease, not let it define me.
Whether this surgery helps or not. The warrior inside of me has to turn outward. I have believed (and on my bad days still do) that accepting Meniere’s Disease into my life meant to stop fighting. What I haven’t realized is that I stopped fighting the Meniere’s Disease a long time ago. I turned the knife on myself and have been cutting away at who I am for a long time. I have chipped away at myself and sit in this chair, exposed and raw. All this fighting and I still have Meniere’s Disease. I have carved myself down to nothing and I still have this disease. It’s time that I turn the sword.
Today I believe in all of what I say. In 20 minutes I may not feel this strong. I may crumble. It’s the nature of this disease, the nature of a chronic illness. But the important thing is that today I woke up. In this moment I am clear headed.