Imagine how your lip feels when you go to the dentist. The numbest stage: thick, thick, thick, heavy. The phantom stage: "did I really just feel that twinge and tingle?" ...and so on...to the final part where you think: "Sometime in the next 5 minutes I will feel 'normal' again." That final stage is how I live with my right side now - 7 years later - I am thankful. And the sea-ship that my body feels like it is on has found much quieter waters. Most days, my imbalance is hardly noticeable and maybe even lulling. I often find myself swaying to keep up; I don't think others even see it.
I'm not even sure when my body arrived at this "baseline," this "new normal." It must have been sometime in the last 7 years...SEVEN, 7, seven years. That is a long time.
I am fast-forwarding too much as I write. I am. I want to HURRY UP. Get to the good stuff. The stuff about how I went through more and more hell, BUT that I learned so much about myself, life, God, others. That my story winds through misdiagnoses, surgery, diagnoses, undiagnoses (which isn't even a word).
But in reality; in real time; although I wanted to hurry up, and deeply believed in the good stuff on the other end, I had to, (and have to?) wait: uncertain, suffering, waiting. And wait some more...in a lot of waiting rooms.