Tomorrow marks 1 week since I was diagnosed with diverticulitis. It does not deserve a capital "d". I've spent the majority of this week in pain, in bed, on a liquid diet, and fantasizing about eating food. I've had a lot of time on my hands to think. And I realized that diverticulitis is a lot like life.
Let me explain.
The first few days after diagnosis sucked. I was in a lot of pain. I was worried about my boys worrying about me. I was mad that the weather was so gorgeous and I could barely move. I was frustrated that wonderful Sean had to shoulder the burden of running the house on his own and I couldn't contribute. And I was very preoccupied with the permanent changes that having this condition meant for me and how I would continue to live my life.
I felt really blue. I cried a lot. It sucked.
Then, even though I still hurt, I decided that that was enough.
I have diverticulitis. The chronic condition is called diverticulosis. And I have it now no matter what.
And so, just like anything else in life that I can't change, I started thinking about fitting this into my every day life.
Here's an example: one of my favorite summer desserts is a three berry cobbler recipe that my mother gave to me. I'm sentimental about it, for some reason, and I can no longer eat the berries. So after I felt bummed for a bit, I decided it has now become a cherry cobbler. Poof! Accommodation complete! And it's a great excuse to get myself a cherry pitter, a kitchen knick knack I've wanted for a while.
I know it sounds silly, but I thought if I can make lots of small simple changes, this new condition of mine will be a piece of cake.
And it reminded me of life in general - you get handed all sorts of stuff along the way. It's how you choose to deal with it that matters.
So I'll stick with staying positive. Yes, every now and then it's going to be a pain in the patookie, but c'est la vie.
By the way, I don't think I spelled "patookie" the way I pronounce "patookie". I should have just written "ass".