Five weeks ago today Jonathan took me to the ER because I was having difficulty breathing. Turns out I had a massive pulmonary embolism provoked by birth control pills. Emergency surgery removed most of the clots and I went home the next day. No one told me what the recovery period would look like, so (silly me), three days later I tried to go back to work. Just being in a room with movement and noise was too much to handle. I tried again a few days later, same thing. The next week my doctor advised me to take it easy and to listen to my body; meaning, I had to delegate all my responsibilities for (at least) the next two weeks. I am incredibly thankful for those who stepped up and am humbled by their willingness to help.

Now here I am five weeks later and I’m learning that recovery may take months…or even years. I had no idea what to expect with all of this – it was incredibly surprising and sudden. These five weeks have been a roller coaster of tears, disappointments, gratitude, anger, fear. But I’m learning to shift my expectations and take smaller steps towards recovery.

My water bottle has a sticker that says, SLOW DOWN. This is contrary to my normal rhythm (“Shannon speed,” the praise band teases me). I have a book on the shelf next to me entitled, “How to Do Nothing;” it challenges my “always doing something,” “need to be productive” way of life. REST is moving up on my four-letter word vocabulary list. Nothing has ever been as humbling as not being able to drive or even stay engaged in a conversation on my couch with my best friend.

I share this because, as I’ve been somewhat confined to my home for the last month, the world keeps on going. I’ve said for months now to people wondering “where everyone is” or “why isn’t so-and-so here?” – people are struggling – and we have no idea what they’re going through unless we engage with them. Have you checked on your friends lately? Your neighbors?

The thing that has helped me the most with both this PE recovery and some post-covid recovery is joining a support group with people with a shared experience of these things. Knowing that I’m not alone in this brings me so much comfort and inspires me to keep going, even if it’s baby steps. So I’m taking it one day at a time, counting my blessings for having such an amazing support system, and trying to stay grateful for each breath.