Will my improved health last? That is, can I think of myself as truly recovered, with my old health restored or am I just experiencing a remission of symptoms, with the illness lurking beneath the calm surface of good health? It’s a hard question to answer. Just as living with CFS means living with uncertainty, so does living without it.

For most of the time over the last couple of years, I have lived a normal life for someone of my age. Sometimes I am even able to do more than I did before. In my life before CFS, I enjoyed hiking trips on which I walked 15 to 17 miles a day. In the fall of 2003, I had a three-day hiking trip on which I walked 18 miles a day, running out of daylight before I ran out of energy. I feel very fortunate to have restored so much of my old life.

On the other hand, I have to acknowledge that I experience mild symptoms at times. My response is to take a brief rest. This experience suggests that I have not banished CFS entirely, even if it is invisible most of the time.

It may be helpful to think of my recovery in terms of probability, rather than as a yes or no proposition. It is likely that the more time passes without a relapse, the more the odds tilt in favor of permanent recovery, but probability is not certainty.

As a practical matter, I think it helps me to believe both that I have recovered and that my CFS is only in remission. Believing that I am recovered helps me to be more venturesome than I would be if I feared a relapse was waiting to pounce. Believing that CFS is merely quiet but not vanquished reminds me that I may still have limits different from those of a healthy person and that I need to remain sensitive to my body and responsive to its signals.

In the end, my attitude is similar to the one I adopted at the start: whether I recover is out of my control. I believe I can reduce symptoms through the way I live and that I can create a meaningful life for myself whatever my circumstances.

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