It is very difficult to ask for help. Especially in the beginning. I was 23. But my body was so weakened by my infection that I basically had no choice. And over the years, it has become an act of survival. I have to ask for help on occasion.
The summer of 2012, August in particular, was extremely rough. My newlywed husband was on the east coast dealing with the aftermath of his mother’s unexpected death and trying to figure out how to care for his disabled father. I had just returned to Texas after the funeral, expecting to return to work, only to be told that my autoimmune disease had progressed and I would have to increase my steroids to 60mg daily and start methotrexate.
I was sick. Like really fucking sick. Like in bed 24/7 sick and puking. And I had a five year old. And a husband 1500 miles away. I needed help. My babysitter and her family swooped in. My babysitter even had her little brothers do some of the “man chores” like take out the trash. My neighbors even brought over food and watched my daughter when my babysitter couldn’t. My mom did my laundry and cleaned my bathroom.
That kind of help was tremendous. Sometimes they just did it without asking. Sometimes when someone says “is there anything I can do?” take them up on it. Seriously. When you are sick, you can’t be superman (or wonder woman). You need help. So take advantage of it. And then think of little ways to show your gratitude.
true life is stranger than fiction.. 