In an ideal world, there'd always be a George Clooney nearby, reassuring us of our inner strength during rough times. There'd be doctors who could always eradicate the root cause while treating the symptoms. There'd be friends around whom you wouldn't mind burdening with how scared you are and how weak and pathetic you feel. But, as Kurtis Blow once famously said, these are the breaks.
For now, I'm perfectly content LOL-ing with my fellow swellies online about our "Botox lips without the Botox price" or hitting up a relevant thread on a chronic disease forum. Or, on the days when it's too intolerable, taking a few extra pills if I have to and crying into my husband’s shoulder.
Five months ago, when I was a month into the disease, I wouldn't have said what I can confidently say now: I am completely optimistic that even if there isn't a cure for angioedema in my lifetime, I will be just fine getting through it.