I had to do something difficult today, namely, admit when logic trumped my worry of letting others down, and concede that going to help out for the ten day camp I’ve been meaning to go to for almost two years now wasn’t right in my current condition. It wouldn’t be fair on the organisers, on the kids going, and yes I know this should really top the list but it would mess up my health. I can’t say I came to the conclusion alone; mum had to have a mini intervention to say I needed to strongly reconsider. If I knew better how to manage the condition and this wasn’t my first camp in ten to fifteen years – where I have aged plenty more than that because of the EDS – then maybe it could work. As it is, I risked a serious health event if I wasn’t careful.
As you can imagine, by that news and the fact I’m writing this at almost midnight, I don’t feel fantastic about it all. I feel like a huge let-down, even though I know that it’s not my fault my body is deteriorating and susceptible to all sorts of problems a ten day camping trip would exacerbate. I have absolutely done the right thing, and it feels wretched. It goes against my ‘make the most of my health I do have’ outlook post-diagnosis and leaves me in a bit of a hopeless stupor. I couldn’t focus enough outside of work to do more than a couple hundred words during the day, so I was thankful that I had some mindless repetitive tasks I couldn’t automate to churn through during the day. Never been more glad about an AD issue.
I have to remind myself that a camp is different to Project4 for a multitude of reasons, even if the latter is a heck of a lot more work than 10 days. I can sit down for it for one thing. There you go, more clues. I’ll be able to tell you soon enough. It’s going to sound sad, but this is one of those times I wish the audience for this blog wasn’t imaginary, because I could sure use some comfort right about now.