It has been a week of up and down. I am dealing well with the OCD behaviours and making some good progress and I’m happy about that. But I have been in very low mood, dwelling on the last 8 weeks and struggling to comprehend the massive impact of what’s happened to all of us. I can’t quite get my head round where we were at the end of February, in Critical Care, watching J in a coma, wondering if he would live. And the weeks after that have been exhausting and frightening and I think I will always feel nervous about the transplant and the possibility of rejection and infection. The whole two months have passed in a blur of anxiety and adrenaline and just utter knackeredness. I can’t believe how far away it all seems and how unreal it is. I think depression after trauma like this is very normal.
Sadly, I have lost some friends along the way, people who I thought meant so much to me but who, in the difficult parts just stopped being there. I have also realised that some of my friends are unstoppably wonderful and kind and generous. I have been propped up, carried through and loved immeasurably by these friends. I am so very grateful and I can’t possibly ever repay those kindnesses. I cry a lot every night when I get in bed and lie awake and think about how loved I have felt and how those amazing people have saved me. There have been simple things like gifts of food, cards, flowers, help with washing and ironing. And there have been gifts of texts and phone calls late at night when I have been alone and frightened. Kind words in unexpected moments. And gifts of hugs, kisses, hand-holding, couch space for napping, patient listening. And just so much love. It has made me humble. So, yes, I am sometimes down. But also up. Very high up. Lifted on strong shoulders.