The Long And Winding Road To Recovery.

 

"I'm on the road to recovery..."

You've probably heard that said somewhere before. Chances are, you've probably said it yourself. Maybe you said it after a bad bout of the flu, or a prolonged illness. Maybe you said it after an injury or following surgery. Whatever the circumstance was, you said it and then shortly afterward, you undoubtedly made a recovery.

I've said it too. I've actually been saying it for the past two years. Technically speaking, I've been on the road to recovery since June 25th, 2018 - the day I got Vestibular Neuritis. However, I'm finding more and more that recovery from a chronic vestibular condition can be a very slippery experience.  Like trying to pick up wet soap - it's elusive and hard to grasp. Also, recovery can be a shape-shifter. Something that constantly changes. My definition of recovery can often change depending on who I'm speaking to. And I've come to see that medical professionals have a very different view of recovery than what I do.

My ENT tells me that after two years I should've fully compensated for the nerve damage I received when I got VN, and should no longer be exibiting symptoms. My family doctor and I no longer discuss my vestibular issues. Since I don't bring it up (or burst into tears at the mere mention of the word vertigo) I'm sure she thinks I must've recovered. Every exercise that was given to me by my vestibular physical therapist I've been able to do successfully, and I haven't had an appointment in over a year - hence, recovery. I've also been off anti depressants and anti anxiety medication for 18 months and it's been 9 months since I last spoke to my therapist. So I'm fixed, right?

On paper, it would appear that I've made a full and complete recovery. On paper that is. But in reality, I am dizzy all day every day. While at night, when I climb into bed, it feels as though I drop two stories from the second floor into the basement several times before I fall asleep. There are days when I'm so dizzy I can't even get out of bed, not to mention the balance issues, brain fog, headaches, nausea and general fatigue that comes with this disorder. So this is recovery? I know they say it isn't linear, but this is not at all how I imagined it would be. 

As a creative writer, I tend to use metaphors more than most people. It's not that I'm trying to be poetic, but I find that having a visual reference when comparing something to something else, makes it easier for me to understand. I took the saying 'road to recovery' quite literally and imagined it that way in my head.

 Recovery As A Destination

In the beginning I viewed my road to recovery as a destination - a place I had to get to. I followed my doctors orders to the letter and religiously did my VRT. Although I didn't know how long it was going to take, I knew I would get there eventually. I imagined this destination to be a place of physical and mental wellness and complete healing. This healing would have me feeling better than I've ever felt before. This was a wonderful image.  The problem is - what I pictured in my head was a five star, all inclusive, luxury resort in a tropical paradise, type of recovery -  what I got was a run down one star budget motel in the middle of nowhere! 

Recovery As A Journey

For a while I pictured recovery as a journey. A lot of people have been known to visualize it that way. There are all kinds of quotes telling us how to find "Joy In The Journey" . I love to travel and enjoy all aspects of it. I'm not the person that you hear saying  "are we there yet?"  because I enjoy the getting there part of the journey almost as much as being there. I love going to the airport, being at the airport, taking off and landing. Why, I even enjoy the meals that are served on the plane. So it wasn't too difficult for me to transfer those feelings into the image of a recovery journey. I understood that sometimes a journey can be long, and even difficult, however after two years, this image has started to wear a little thin. Finding joy in the journey is one thing, but there isn't much joy to be found circling around and around like an plane in an endless holding pattern (no pun intended). 

Recovery As A Road 

Recently I've started to see my road to recovery as the actual road itself. More specifically a road called Yonge Street. Yonge Street is approximately 250 metres from my back door and it is the longest street in the world (Google it!) I can see a small section of it from my bathroom window. Yonge Street stretches 1178 miles from Lake Shore in Downtown Toronto to the Rainy River at the Ontario/Minnesota border. The downtown parts of the street are tourism, busy shopping, restaurants, offices and entertainment. Where I'm located it is more suburban residential, with some local businesses. And further north you arrive in farm and cottage country, where there are long stretches of lonely rural highway. But the one thing that is consistent along the entire length of Yonge Street -  is the construction. At any given time, day or night, throughout every season of the year, you will find construction. It is a road that is constantly under repair and these repairs can cause delays, detours and even road closures.

For now this image is perfect for me. I'm on a very long and winding road to recovery. My recovery will not only be long, it is quite possible that it will be life long.  It is a road that is full of cracks, bumps and potholes. A road where there is always construction and I should expect delays. I truly wish it was a freshly paved express highway that would lead to a miracle cure, instead of a slow moving city street under constant construction, but that is my reality.  However I choose to picture it, this is where I am right now and as long as there is some improvement, to either body or mind, then I guess this is recovery. 

Did you have a picture in your mind of  what your recovery might look like? Does it match your reality?