I had a dream the other night that has really stayed with me. Does that ever happen to you? You wake with it vividly inside you and it wanders about your brain until you have that “Ahhh” moment where a piece of it clicks into such focus that you instantly understand why it won’t let you go.
I had a dream the other night.
I could feel the warmth of the sun and the breeze ruffling and lifting my skirt. I was walking up a long hillside through tall grasses and wild flowers and the only sounds I could hear were the hum of the bees and the songbirds chirping their joy at the beauty of the day. It was one of those dreams where everything was perfect – the place you go when you are trying to escape everything. Perhaps that hillside is how I envision heaven – it did appear to me from somewhere. I reached the top of the hill with my two kitties: Tagger, an orange mackerel with big graffiti swirls on his sides, and Bittie, a stout little black and white girl, who I rescued at such a young age that I really don’t think she knows she’s a cat. We turned around to take in the view and look down the valley. I raised my face to the warmth of the sun and took in a deep breath of the field and absorbed the summer sun. Then I heard some sweet little voices way below. A boy and a girl were playing in a small clearing by some trees and a small brook giggling in delight.
I had to run to them.
I headed down the slope and felt that I was running and floating and flying all at the same time and the joy was immense. It was then that I said to myself – in my dream – “Wow, I don’t have AS!” And that is when I thought that perhaps they were the children I couldn’t have because of the years on methotrexate, a chemotherapy drug that not only helps to suppress your immune function, but also keeps you from holding a pregnancy. Those years and the thoughts of children imagined but never allowed to begin – regardless of a possible conception – torment me at times. In a dream where I didn’t have Ankylosing Spondylitis, my mind created this world. I no longer feel sorry for myself – well, not often. I have lived with AS for enough years that I’ve made it to the acceptance stage. I accept this is my cross to bear. I accept the experiences I won’t have. I accept the pain both physical and emotional. I fought for this acceptance and I fight every day. I fight for continued acceptance of others just as I fight to deal with the issues surrounding my health. And, I fight to find a way to have the strength to share my story and my experiences.
Fight Like A Girl Club is an amazing place for us to find other women going through the similar struggles and making it! I look forward to hearing from you about how you fight back too!
This article is intended to convey general educational information and should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.