My body is strong. It’s been through a hell of a lot.
You see, it’s been fighting since day one, as soon as my diseased lungs expanded for the first time. A relentless slog forward. Despite the premature death sentence and debilitating hardships that awaited, it continued unfazed.
Sure, other diseases jumped on throughout the years to hitch a ride. It had to adjust and change course a few times for these new permanent (uninvited) passengers. Celiac and acid reflux–they were annoyingly picky, always loudly complaining about the food. Hypothyroidism was quiet and unassuming. Diabetes was an unpredictable brat whose tantrums would force the whole system to immediately cater to its needs. But still my body persisted.
Life threw many punches at my body, determined to beat it into submission and break its spirit. A CF exacerbation that lasted an entire summer. A PTSD-inducing nightmare hospital stint. A six-month stretch of mono. A painfully vicious case of pneumonia.
My body took all of the blows. It stumbled. It bled. It weakened (the pneumonia was a direct hit to the left lung). It struggled (some days it’s hard to breathe). It even fell (looking at you, quarter-life crisis). But it always rose–bruises, battle scares and all–to endure and welcome another day.
Over time, it’s healed. It’s overcome. It’s evolved. It’s grown. It’s thrived. It’s surpassed expectations. Its accomplishments have been astounding: climbing European towers, walking in the Rockies, running a 5K, twisting into yoga poses, snorkeling in Central America, parasailing above the sea, dancing all night–the list goes on.
Three solid decades. It’s been fighting for 30 years. And it’s still fighting. A high-risk medicine I took may, in fact, be the biggest physical blow yet. It permanently damaged my inner ears, throwing my entire equilibrium off. The brain and body will eventually adapt. I may never heal completely or return to how I once was. That’s petrifying to me.
But I need to maintain hope, respect, and trust in my body. Most importantly, I need to remember how resilient it truly is on this bumpy ride.
Life After a Quarter-Life Crisis 