So few answers.
The diagnosis prefix idiopathic is used here with great accuracy.
It means, we don't know.
This, coming from one of the best medical facilities in the country, UW Medicine, creates another level of anxiety, concern, frustration.
I am not blaming them. I understand that not everything can be identified, labeled, treated. We have, after all, failed to this point to find a cure for the common cold.
It simply is hard to manage, challenging to cope and painful to witness the alarming loss of vitality. You never know when one of the many symptoms will show up, without warning, and launch a devastating left jab to the jaw. This atrial fibrillation bout is like watching Rocky Balboa in slow motion take one from Ivan Drago, Clubber Lang or Apollo Creed.
The Rock gets hit hard and often. He goes to the canvas. His coach and trainer (the fantastic Burgess Meredith) yells from his corner to stay down. Paulie looks away and Adrian covers her tearful eyes. It is painful to watch.
But something happens (I love Hollywood) an elemental power is willed into reality by the last remaining thread of Rocky's consciousness. He gets up. Off the canvas. Now, beyond pain and the fear of losing, he takes one step towards his destiny, barely able to see through swollen eyes and spinning vision. His arms are lead, his legs rubber but his will iron-like.
He shivers his loins, tosses a jab, then launches an attack, moving forward with a retro-fitted energy that literally stuns his opponent. The audience comes alive, now screaming for the underdog with rising crescendo as his barrage of punches baffles his opponent, who is now the hunted, the entirety of the cosmos and its enormous power against him.
You know the rest.
The allegory is of no surrender. Of not quitting. Of getting back up and getting back into the game. It is the color of the eye of the tiger. The strength of Mt. Rainier.
I guess I should be happy that I get to practice this every day.
Queue the theme song.
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