From the Jameson Writes Blog.
I’ve spent the last several weeks in a really dark place — literally a dark room with covers on the inside and outside of the windows. If you regularly read this blog then you may be wondering how that is different from the way my life has consistently been over the last several months. So let me say: The difference is big. I’ve become so sensitive to light that I’m back to wearing tanning goggles (can’t find my pink ones) and washcloths to shield my eyes from even subtle amounts of light. But lately light hasn’t been the only issue I’ve faced.
I need someone, usually my mom, to brush my teeth for me and do so many other things like opening pill bottles to take my medications or putting on deodorant or swabbing my IV with isopropyl alcohol. I’ve grown accustomed to doing these things for myself as my recovery has progressed since 2015 when I was at my sickest. For me the difference between brushing my teeth and having to have someone do it for me is hard to equate to the struggles of healthy people, but it’s sort of like when a middle-aged adult loses their job and has to move in with family and rely on them for food and other necessities.
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