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Four years after being struck by CFS, I had improved enough to consider myself recovered. I lived a normal life for a person of my age and had resumed taking long hikes (my personal measure of recovery). But I found myself haunted by new questions: Will my improved health last? Have I truly recovered or am I just experiencing a remission? Will I ever be able to see my improvement as permanent? As I write this in 2009, eight more years have past and I am still enjoying good health. If anything, my improvement has continued. Sometimes I am able to do more than I did before CFS came into my life. Pre-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. This summer, I celebrated my 65th birthday with a hiking trip of more than 160 miles over 12 days. If I can do that and not experience CFS symptoms, I am a very lucky person. On the other hand, I experience mild symptoms at times, usually brain fog triggered by crowds and noisy places. My response on such occasions is to leave the setting and, perhaps once or twice a year, to take a brief rest. This experience suggests that I have not banished CFS entirely, even if it is invisible most of the time. I have come to think of the permanence 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. I expect to
remain sensitive to my body and responsive to its signals. And I am very
grateful for my second chance to have a normal life.
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