When There Is No Choice

When There Is No Choice

This morning, I went to the doctor’s concerning a minor yet annoying condition that’s been bothering me for the last several months. After so much time of self-diagnostics, homeopathic treatments, and avoiding any activity that didn’t include sitting and typing, there was still no improvement on my condition. It was my mother (while passing through town) who finally told me to just go; she would help me financially with the medical bills if it came down to it. I practically made the appointment in front of her, just to assuage her concerns.

When I moved to cancel it later, though, I couldn’t do it. I was tired of the late nights and the inability to sleep. I was tired of wrapping myself up and avoiding physical contact with friends and family. I was especially tired of missing taekwondo and just moving at normal speeds.

In the patient room, I sat nervously and gave the doctor my symptoms, positive I would hear him confirm my own fears. So I was very surprised to hear him dismiss me and give me a different name – one that wasn’t nearly as debilitating as my research.

What I had wasn’t what I thought—and it certainly wasn’t contagious or even viral. It did, however, mean some permanent changes in my lifestyle—especially my exercise regimen and diet.

That left me more shook up than I anticipated—so much so, that the nurse had to come in a second time to tell me to get dressed.

I’m not even going to pretend that I have some terrible, terminal disease. And I’m sure that if I was to say the condition aloud, everyone would say, “Ohh! Well, gosh, everyone’s got some form of that! It’s really no big deal, Brandee!”

That may be true.

But it’s something that I’ve never had before.

And it’s daunting to know that, as far as certain foods, cosmetics, and activities are concerned, I no longer have as many options as I used to.

I tend to get stuck on my age a lot. Though I’m only months shy of turning 30, I’m often perceived (and sometimes treated) as someone in her late teens —21 at the most. This can range from a pat on the head, inquiries about what high school I just graduated from, and complete dismissals from my peers at social events.

I used to see this confusion so much that I could even believe that I still had that same vivacity, naivety and resiliency that used to get me through any physical ailment.

Well, aside from the chronic lifelong asthma thing and the severe seasonal allergies thing…

Alright. So maybe I am a touch sickly.

Anyway, aside from accepting the maturity that comes with my age, I suppose it’s also time to realize that my body is changing as I grow older. I can either be a stubborn fool and continue going at my ignorant pace, or I can realize that I’m not going to live forever.

Good thing I was going to change my diet, anyway.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: