A post from two years ago recently popped up in my feed and in it I spoke about how it had been two weeks since my very first diagnosis with Covid. I mentioned how it kicked my ass with exhaustion, shortness of breath, a general feeling of being run over by a bus, and an unshakable fogginess of mind. Since that first post I’ve had Covid for sure two more times and likely another. Perhaps that’s why this long haul syndrome is never ending.
Everything comes in waves. I have yet to feel normal (would I even know anymore?) because there’s always a symptom present. Thankfully, the pericarditis hasn’t returned, but my heart has definitely been affected along with my lungs. The occasional chest pain that keeps me on edge as I wait to see if it will persist, the unsettling pounding and flip-flopping of heartbeats from time to time, the way I still get out of breath with little exertion, how difficult hills are to run, and how crappy I still feel while running are proof to me that something is wrong.
Before I had Covid, I was running faster and farther by leaps and bounds. Throughout this two-year ordeal involving heart procedures and hospital admissions, I only took a few weeks off of running. After each episode, I immediately started walking 2 to 4 miles (with my doctor’s permission), and then I would be back to running. For all of this persistence (and healthy eating, vitamin supplements, weightlifting and yoga) there’s no way I should still feel this terrible on a 4 mile run. If one of my athletes was showing no signs of improving, despite consistent effort and appropriate workouts, I’d know something was obviously wrong and I would tell them to go to the doctor and get bloodwork.
The problem is, I’ve seen probably 20 doctors over this two-year span and have had more blood drawn than I care to think about. Even though several doctors have said it’s probably long-haul, no one can actually tell me how to get better and they basically shrug and say wait it out. (Seriously, I’ve seen many shrugs.) I did wait it out for the pericarditis and eventually it did go away. So that makes me feel somewhat hopeful. But it’s driving me crazy that things still aren’t right and no one can tell me what to do (except they keep saying just keep doing what you’re doing – hello! It’s not working!) or what to expect. (I do understand this is new territory even for the doctors, so I don’t blame them, but it’s still frustrating!)
Are my heart and lungs permanently damaged? It certainly feels that way. Am I stuck at 3 to 4 painfully slow and terrible miles for the rest of my life? After my half marathon, I was dreaming of going further. Now I can’t even fathom it. The half hurt way more than it should have. I feel like I’m constantly starting over and I often feel like what’s the point. Is the little I’m doing even making a difference? Am I a wimp and just need to push even harder? On days that I can, and I feel somewhat decent, I do push it. But those days are few and far between, and they certainly aren’t consistent. It’s always one step forward, followed by a giant step back.
Whatever has taken over my body has seemingly invaded every single cell and it weighs me down tremendously. When I breathe, stand up, sit down, walk, run, talk and even sleep I feel its effects. Even when I think it slows my thoughts down and threatens to suffocate my mind. Some mornings I can’t fathom taking a shower, and it takes forever to get moving. Other days I can get out the door fairly quickly and all is well. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it.
I’ve been driving myself nuts these past two years trying to figure it all out. And the doctors haven’t been much help. They’ve actually created more questions in my mind than anyone because they keep bouncing me around to deal with each individual symptom. Meanwhile, no one is looking at my body as a whole. I’m no doctor, but I know that my entire body has been affected and looking at one part of it at a time is getting me nowhere. (I tried to find a functional doctor through my insurance company and they had no clue what I was talking about! They couldn’t find holistic doctors around me either!)
I could very easily keep complaining for pages, but I also know that won’t get me anywhere either. (If anywhere, I’ll end up in a pit of despair). So, despite my current feelings, I’m forcing myself to find a silver lining, which is—
I’m learning a valuable lesson: patience and trust.
I can’t predict the future (even if I had all the answers from a team of doctors) but I’m really learning to trust God because I know that he sees it all. What I do know is that over the past two years I’ve become more patient, prayerful, grateful, focused on others, empathetic, appreciative, trusting, and knowledgeable about my health and body. I’ve also become less rigid in my ways, less fearful, less worried about things I can’t control and less negative. Who knows? Maybe this is all part of God‘s plan to help me grow, and because of my stubbornness and selfishness, he needed to get my attention by allowing me to struggle with it.
If I had just had Covid for two weeks and recovered completely, I doubt much else would have changed. I recognize His presence and the beauty in my life, because I open myself up to it more and I know, for a fact, if left to my own devices, none of those things I mentioned above would’ve changed. I’m grateful for that. It still baffles me when I think about it because I can’t fully explain it all, but when I was petrified about my heart right before surgery, I chose to trust God and ever since then, little by little, so much has changed.
So, even though I’m frustrated at the moment by how I feel and by my doctors, it’s not consuming me. I suppose I should take my own advice and trust that I’m not alone (none of us are!) and that there’s a reason for all of this. I never would have changed my perspective on my own. I have 52 years of proof of that!
Just like in training, where we have to break down our muscles in order to build them up even stronger, I’ve been broken down physically and mentally in order to grow. I see the evidence clearly in how I’m handling things mentally. That encourages me to trust that the physical will get there as well. The growth will come. I’m just going to have to keep moving one step forward at a time, take things one day, one moment at a time and trust that it’s all going to work out.
That mindset keeps me going and helps me focus on all the blessings and beauty around me which fuels my desire to remain grateful as I learn and grow. Sometimes it seems impossible to find something to be grateful for, especially when we’re faced with painful challenges, but that just means we need to look a little deeper. Keep looking and I promise you will find at least one thing to be thankful for.
