The Good Old Days

It’s been a rough few weeks. Filled with grim reminders that our bodies are still in the process of recovering from a massive mold assault. I would much prefer to think of our experience as “behind us.” Even more, I would love to tell friends and family what they want to hear. “Please tell me you guys are all better.” Or, “Tell me everything is back to normal.”

The truth is, we’re not all better. And life is not back to normal.

One of my daughters accepted a job recently at a nearby fitness center. Unfortunately the front desk is within feet of an indoor chlorinated pool. Two days after she accepted the job, the doors were removed for a remodeling project. Within minutes my daughter felt dizzy and lightheaded. Hearing about a previous mold remediation only added to her trauma. She left the job disheartened. It’s been three years. Does she still have to worry about this?

Another daughter met recently with a mold-traumatized family at a nearby coffee shop. Still in their home and preparing to vacate, they carried spores with them. Within hours my daughter’s fungal symptoms flared. One of the most aggravating is a rash around the mouth. Angular cheilitis. The symptoms led to a setback that lasted nearly two weeks.

One of my sons added a significant amount of kefir to his diet, sparking a major healing crisis that left him unable to attend school. Our diabetic son Colin’s blood sugars escalated for several days. Another daughter experienced a sore throat, and the familiar questions surfaced: Was she exposed to something? Is this detox? Is it unrelated and just a “normal” sore throat?

“Just think, it used to be like this every day,” my husband said as I sat on the floor, overcome with discouragement.

He’s right. Three years ago we were in the emergency room weekly. Nosebleeds were a daily occurrence. Children were unable to attend school. My memory was shot. I would walk into a room and have no idea why I was there. Honestly, we were too sick to see how sick we were.

We’ve come a long way. I don’t mind the reminders. They keep me grounded. Grounded in reality. We were “hit” by our house, and some issues may stay with us the rest of our lives. Life may never be back to normal.

We have a choice to embrace our new normal or continually wish for life as we knew it before. Now that we’ve made it this far, I’m not sure I would go back. Would I trade all of this knowledge for the good old days?

Letting go of what is behind is the only way to embrace today. I have to choose to be thankful for the reminders that life is a journey no matter what our trials may be. It’s been a rough few weeks, but we're going in a good direction. Maybe, just maybe... these are the good old days.