Convalescence

Last year I was unwell. Very unwell. I experienced an illness that landed me in hospital followed by weeks of recovery. As a medical doctor (and a human being with normal vulnerabilities), it was my turn to experience illness from the other side of the consulting desk.

Previous to this illness I had enjoyed abundant good health and a high level of fitness. I took very good care of my body and trusted it. Over a career spanning decades, it was exceedingly rare for me to take time off work because of illness.

However, this occasion was different. I had become very unwell, very quickly. Due to a combination of circumstances it was a ‘perfect storm’ culminating in my vulnerability to the illness.

I have previously written that, even though I know how to take good care of myself and usually enjoy excellent health, I will get an illness if my consciousness (or more so my ‘ego’) needs to. It needed to.

I knew this experience was a wake-up call – an occurrence to get my attention and force me to slow down, reflect and address certain aspects of my life that my previous busyness had helped me to avoid. You could say that I got a mighty butt kick.

In retrospect, I realize that I was gifted with many valuable lessons and insights from this experience. One of these was realizing that my body was going to heal at the rate that it was going to heal. I could certainly give myself the right sort of support, envision my return to good health and reflect on the lessons inherent in the experience; yet, despite all of this, I knew that my body was healing at just the rate it’s wisdom had decided was appropriate for me at that time.

It was a surrender of sorts to get my mind out of the way and just let my body get on with the job of healing. Of course, the mind is always involved but mainly from its vast unconscious realm, which connects closely to our physical aspects. I just knew that I could not rush the process. And, believe me, I am used to pushing my body very hard and am not one to mollycoddle myself. This illness forced me to re-think the concept of recovery and convalescence.

The term ‘convalescence’ is not at all fashionable these days as our fast paced, frenetic lifestyles do not at all embrace this concept. In fact, it is often seen as a complete indulgence and waste of time. I had previously willed my body to recover quickly from any illness so as to return to my normal life with barely a ripple.

‘Convalescence’ is a term that is used to describe the process of, and time for, recuperation, restoration and recovery. It has a gentle tone about it and usually involves withdrawal from the rigors of our usual lives. In the traditional setting, convalescence would involve being cared for by others so that any physical demands and stresses on the patient would be minimized.

It is a ‘time out’ of sorts. It allows the space for reflection and for the gentle unfolding of insights regarding the whole illness experience – as the body heals. Without rush. Without urgency.

However, it can be very difficult to justify taking some time out, even if it is for physical recovery, in our current societal climate. It confuses people when we get off that treadmill for a while, and time taken for healing and inner reflection is often seen as an extravagance. Many believe that it is admirable to get back to work quickly or to continue to work while unwell. Though misguided, we get kudos for ‘soldering on’.

Our societal systems (including the people who abide by them) want us to remain as busy worker bees, and can be very disapproving when we stray from the roles expected of us. But straying from those roles, and our habituated ways of being, is sometimes forced upon us by the illness experience – and exactly what we need.

It is actually a clever inbuilt design of the illness, particularly if it is an infectious disease, to force the inflicted person to withdraw from society for a time. The inflammatory cytokines that flood one’s system during an infectious illness cause the malaise and lethargy that forces temporary retirement from normal life. This is for two reasons, the first being that it helps to prevent the spread of the disease by keeping the afflicted individual confined and not mingling with others. The second is that it impels one to rest and reduce normal life stresses, in order to heal. 

It is important to note that when you have been unwell, your brain, for a while, does not work as well as it usually does and thus normal perceptions are somewhat altered.  Those inflammatory cytokines very much affect the brain, challenging normal thinking and mental tasks, as the mind-body is focused on healing the illness rather than any external projects. Being significantly unwell is a very introspective experience.

There might also be an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability and fragility that one experiences when enduring significant health challenges. Even when recovering, it might look like you are doing ‘business as usual’ on the outside but subjectively you are experiencing a very different reality.

I observed, in myself, a compelling force to indicate to others that I was feeling much better than I actually was during my recovery phase. I did not at all enjoy being in the sick role and was forcing myself to be upbeat before I actually physically or emotionally felt that way.

Frankly, I wanted to keep my place as a contributor to society and did not want to be regarded as someone looking for sympathy or milking the whole illness experience. I had an image to uphold. I was the one who treated sick people rather than being one of them.

I now know that my weakness was not in being unwell but in how I regarded myself during the whole process. When-we-are-unwell-it-is-time-to-take-very-good-care-of-ourselves. And maybe adopt that as a lifelong habit.

It is well known statistically that people who put the care of others above the care of themselves are more prone to chronic health problems and an earlier demise.  The adage – ‘we give better from a full cup’ – is very true. Health care providers and carers take note!

During this experience, I also realized how exceedingly difficult it was for me to ask for help. 

It is hard to explain the actual visceral reaction I get when I even think about it, so it was just easier to tough it out, largely by myself (though I very much appreciate the help I did get from a few others!). I found it extremely challenging to express my own vulnerability and needs (though, when very unwell I had no option). Maybe the boot camp of medical training instilled that in me. Or, more so, maybe my childhood experience did not allow me to have needs. Likely I have given the impression that I am very independent and self-sufficient. I had to coach myself to accept that of course it is okay to have needs and call on assistance at times - and this is definitely a work in progress.

Another insight I gleaned from this episode is that when you usually enjoy good health, you really do not know what it feels like to be significantly unwell.  I have had to reflect on how I have not been there for others who have endured similar situations. Even with my patients, I know I have not always fully tuned into how unwell they might have felt and the vulnerability and fear that often goes along with it. It is a very valuable lesson to sometimes walk in other people’s shoes.

Probably the main lesson for me has been the realization that I cannot return to ‘business as usual’.  This wake-up call, in the form of an illness, came abruptly to remind me that I could no longer cling to certain aspects of my life, and of myself, that I had long ago outgrown. In fact, ‘Life’ had been exceedingly patient with me for a very long time but it was now a matter of ‘game up!’ I well know that I could have suffered a much harsher reminder. I got off comparatively lightly.

Significant illness forces change. If we do not heed the intuitive and emotional cues that guide us to address and change aspects of our lives, we will get a louder message - often in the form of an illness, accident or other life crisis. So it should not be a matter of going back to 'business usual’, even if the changes we make are subtle and not necessarily noticed by others.

I am now reveling in my return to good health and I am deeply grateful for this experience (uncomfortable, though it was!) that helped me gain some important insights on many levels. We certainly do not need to learn through suffering; there are more elegant ways. But sometimes we do need to be stopped in our tracks when we have not heeded earlier indications to make some changes in our attitudes or our lives.

Dr Catherine Fyans is a holistic medical practitioner/conscious health facilitator and the author of The Wounding of Health Care: From Fragmentation to Integration