The Family Sees Me Differently Now

My dad is going to arrive tomorrow for a short visit. The last time he came he stayed with us was when I was having ileostomy surgery. I was in the hospital for all but the beginning of his visit. What a different trip this will be! We will go to Rocky Mountain National Park and to Boulder and we’ll do some birdwatching in Waterton Canyon. It will be a joyous occasion, full of fun and activity. I will be different, and he will be different. The way he sees me will be different.

It’s happening slowly. The people closest to me, especially my parents, who felt my suffering most acutely, are finally breathing again. They know that I am going to be okay. My mom no longer greets me with, “ohhhh, you’re so little.” Indeed, I am no longer little. My dad no longer calls me and asks me first how I am feeling. Now he asks me what’s new, because he knows that in this new life of mine, there is always something new. Both of them used to listen for my voice – they knew as soon as I answered the phone whether I was having an awful day or a getting-by day. Now there is no tension when they call, because they know that I am either having a great day or just a pretty good one.

I’m not a parent; I can’t imagine what it’s like to know that your child is suffering and that there is nothing you can do for them. But I am glad that I am no longer “poor Emily” to them. I am glad that they can think of me and feel no sadness. Instead they think of me and they feel happy, and peaceful knowing that when the day comes when they will no longer be with me, I will be able to stand on my own two feet.

Just as my own identity is changing now that I no longer think of myself as a sick person, those closest to me see me in a different way. My family knew me before I was sick, so what they see is my return. As this thing fades, it will just seem like a strange dream to them, as it already does to me. I was Emily, then this thing came along and took a little of me away for a time, but ultimately Emily prevailed, and now she is back. For me, it is a little different, because I am more keenly aware of how the disease has changed me. I am certainly not the Emily I was before the disease. So I do not think of this as my return. For me, it is a classic story of crossing the sea to the other shore. I am weathered from the storm; I am wiser and I am freer, and I take a particular delight in the ground under my feet.