On Honouring Pain

Today I have the deep honor of posting over at Tanya Marlow’s place. She is from across the pond (hence the u in honour) and is so dear to me there are not words. Tanya is housebound with M.E. and blogs deeply and honestly about everything including suffering. I wake up at 7 am on a Saturday just to skype with her. THAT is how great this girl is.

I spent a long time being sick. At thirteen I got mono. There is nothing less funny to a thirteen year old who has never even held hands with a boy, then bad jokes about the kissing disease. Unfortunately, that was the least of my troubles; I never got better.

I spent the years between 13 and 26 looking fine and feeling terrible. It took three years to find a doctor who would even believe me and another year to find a specialist who could give me a diagnosis and a piece of hope to hold in my hands. I will never forget the thick Indian accent and the kind look in his eyes when he held my hands and told me, “my dear, you are going to get much better.” He was the first person who could promise me that.

I am very proud of this piece. Read the rest here.

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