I've sort of just fallen off the map. Close friends and family know, but I never figured out how to tell my wider circle without a "pity me" type facebook post, which I couldn't stomach. It's been 2.5 years now - I'm still very disabled. I have PoTS and histamine intolerance as well as post viral fatigue. The PoTS is extremely limiting. I can't stand for more than a couple of minutes, and can't walk more than a few dozen paces. The nuisance is that a regular wheelchair wouldn't be much help because sitting upright triggers PoTS (and the resultant post exertional malaise) too. Plus the layout of my flat wouldn't accommodate one.
I've slowly adjusted - this does feel like the new norm now, so I don't find myself thrashing against the state of things like I did in the first year. It's more that when I look around now and see what everyone else can do, there's a serious dissonance. How can that doddering 80 year old be walking down the road, and I can't? People standing in the Queen's queue for 14 hours straight just about blew my mind. But of course, I used to be able to do that (and probably would have been daft enough to join it!)
No work for me. My neurological symptoms affect me almost as much as the physical ones - concentrating for more than short periods leads to dizziness, head pressure, visual symptoms etc. Navigating the benefits system has been a heck of an eye opener. I've lost a lot of love for this country. I used to be a "productive" member of society, and felt well taken care of. That flips as soon as you become long term ill. Your value disappears. You fall into an entirely different category of person, and feel like you're being judged constantly even by the state that is supposed to be taking care of you. You have to fight constantly just to get your basic dues - yet those were my taxes. This is what they were paid for. I'm going through that battle with PIP at the moment. But being reliant on benefits is a really crappy way to live for all sorts of reasons. I don't know where we're supposed to source our self esteem from when we can't engage in life any more.
DP has been pretty good, but didn't start out that way. It was too much for them. They've adjusted. I think they too sometimes forget how limited I am now, and how much this has affected me. I'm not sure I'd be the same person again after this, even if I fully recovered. But if they left me, I'd be lost. I think that would be it for me. There wouldn't be a life left to live as I am, if I didn't at least have DP with me. I don't say that in the throes of despair; it's rational.
And yep, still scared. I've avoided reinfection so far. I can't bear the thought of becoming bedbound again. I have some PTSD from the acute infection (not being able to breathe), and it'll come rushing back if/when I do get reinfected. It comes rushing back when I have a symptom flare.
I can cope as I am, and time makes things easier. But I do live in fear of things getting yet worse.