Yesterday I downloaded a scientific dissertation to read about fatigue and PSC, the lovely liver disease I have. I'm reading and reading and learning that more women than men experience the fatigue, that it comes with depression-like symptoms but doesn't respond to antidepressants and on interview with a psychiatrist doesn't add up to depression either. I also read that sleep for the fatigue is not "restorative." Now I snagged onto that idea and put some time and thought to it.
My naps don't really make me feel better. It's not like I jump out of the nap-bed and think, "Oh, gee whiz, now I can do ..." or that I run out of the house and exercise or anything else that would indicate I really felt better after napping. Huh. So, last night finally I asked myself this whopper question, "Why nap?" It just subtracts from my waking hours and doesn't accomplish anything positive.
Keep in mind also that I have trouble sleeping at night and that goes with what they term "daytime somnolence." Hmmm. I may nap now and then, but it's not part of my daily plan anymore.
So what's the change in perception? I am no longer putting PSC at the center of my life anymore. There's no need to – now, and perhaps there never was a need. It's difficult to have a disease for which there is no treatment except for transplant. And to be eligible for transplant, you need to be really sick. It's easy to make the goal "oh boy, let's get sick!" But that proves to be a rotten way to live your days.
It's daily life I am concerned about. The quality of each day is what adds up to a life. I want more creativity, more writing, more love, more fun, more happiness every single day. That's what I choose right now.