I must stop this childish hope for a remission or even recovery. When the doctors tell me that I will get better - probably - they are as much in the dark as the next person. At least Dr. K. doesn't say it any longer. This morning after he took my blood he encouraged me to get some physiotherapy not because it could bring about anything related to recovery but simply because it will allow me to get out of this passive state of waiting and enduring the roller coaster ride of my overactive immune system.
What I need to concentrate on is to accept the life I am in now. I must stop this nonsense of hoping and waiting. Accept that I am unable to get back to my job, my work, my lovely office. Accept that I may never work again, never go on long cycle rides again, the lot. Shit, I had a great life so far, I have been around and had many adventures. So let's try and close this chapter and figure out a way to handle this whatshallwecallit mess.
Last Friday, with a lot of trepidation, I let R persuade me to a meal in a restaurant. We compromised on an outside table where I could rest my head against the wall and we did not stay longer than necessary. But I felt high as a kite afterwards. Today, I am so shaky and ill, this would be unimaginable. So maybe these will be the high points in my life now: to be able to spend an hour in a restaurant without falling apart. It's nothing compared to cycling the Rhone valley or hiking through Lo Zingaro - whatever made me think life could go on and on like that?