I'm not posting this for sympathy - I'm an extraordinarily happy woman.
I'm not posting this out of self pity - I have a great life and loads of people have it a lot worse than me.
I'm just posting.
I have angioedema (an-jee-o-e-DEE-ma). It can
cause swelling of the hands, feet, eyelids, lips and
airway passages, making moving, seeing and breathing difficult. In my case they think it's hereditary. It recurs from
time to time... whenever it wants really.
Angioedema is the third person in my marriage (we call her Ange). She's a bossy, self-centred diva.
When she wants my body to sit down, she'll make me fall.
When she wants attention during the night, she'll make one side of my body swell up so much that it bites through my dreams, waking me with pain.
If I go out in the cold, she'll complain and make my joints seize up.
In the last year, she's decided that she doesn't like the way the world looks through my right eye, so is forming a cataract to blur what I see, stop me shooting my bow and drown out my love of colour.
But this last week, she's been particularly defiant. She's attacked me each day, like a violent partner. Walking has been like stepping on broken glass. The light has been far too bright through my aching eyes. My hands and feet have been so swollen that I thought my skin would burst. She batters me from the inside.
She stops me crocheting.
She is a bitch.
But you know what. I'm not her victim. Because she's part of my genetic make up. She is me and I am her. Jekyll and Hyde.
And best of all, my husband loves me unreservedly. He steadies me when I walk like a newborn foal. He puts me to bed when
I can't undress myself. He kisses me when I look like the elephant man.
Despite her tantrums, he's stuck with me for a decade.
I love you, my hub. Here's to the next six decades together.
May they be filled with many, many more adventures and buckets more of the laughter we share.
You're my one and only, boogaloo.
x