Arcana Mentis Hidden Knowledge of the Mind

After illness

By Casey Hale · Updated

The illness has eased enough that Tuesday feels like a normal day again. Your body may not be the one you had at 20, and it doesn't need to be.

The first ordinary morning after being ill

For a while there were other people’s shoes in the hall, and each day was measured by what your body would allow before noon. Then a morning arrives that’s just a morning. The light looks normal, and you can carry your tea as far as your chair. You may feel grateful and a little dismayed at once, because the body that got up today isn’t the one that used to take the stairs two at a time, and nobody warned you how big the difference would feel. Pretending otherwise is what wears people out after they’ve already been worn out.

Friends may say you look like yourself again. Right now, being yourself might include a shorter walk, a nap you’ve earned, and a hand that gets tired holding the kettle. You don’t owe anyone a faster pace, or an imitation of your younger years. Your body got you through at a cost, and you don’t have to hide the cost for the day to count.

This page is about the rest of your life around the illness: your mornings, your moods, the people who visit and the ones who stopped, and the small choices that make a Tuesday feel like yours. The illness and its treatment stay with your doctor, and so does every question about what your body can safely do.

Medical questions go to your doctor

This page won’t give you exercises, doses, foods, or a schedule for getting well, because it doesn’t know your illness and it can’t examine you. If pain is new, if your breathing feels wrong, or if your thinking has changed in a way that startles you, call your doctor. If a medicine was prescribed for the illness or anything else, keep taking it as directed. Starting ordinary days again means living in the body you have this month, and asking your doctor what that body can safely do.

Call 911 right away for sudden confusion, weakness or numbness on one side, trouble speaking, chest pain, a severe headache, or trouble breathing. Those can be signs of an emergency, and they’re never something to wait out at home.

Appointments go better when you bring your questions on paper, because a lot of people forget half of them once they’re in the room. Keep a card by the kettle all week and add to it as questions come up. These are the kinds of questions many people want answered:

  • What can I safely do this week, and what should I hold off on?
  • Is it all right for me to drive, climb stairs, lift the laundry basket, or be home alone?
  • Which changes in how I feel mean I should call you, and which mean I should call 911?
  • Who do I call after hours or on a weekend?
  • When can I go back to the activity I care about, such as gardening, church, or my volunteer shift?
  • My mood has been low since I got home. Is that something we can talk about?

Write the answers down, or bring a friend or relative to do it for you. If something isn’t clear, it’s fine to say, “Could you say that again in simpler words? I want to get it right.” Most doctors would rather say it twice than have you guess.

Why recovery can feel lonely, even when you’re better

Recovery can feel lonely because the help tends to stop before the hard part does. While you were very ill, there may have been casseroles, cards, and a sister on the couch. Once you’re up and walking, people go back to their own lives, which is good news in one way and leaves you alone with a long afternoon in another. You’re well enough to be on your own, but not yet well enough to fill the day the way you used to.

It’s also common to feel flat, tearful, or short-tempered for a while after a serious illness or a hospital stay. You’ve had a shock, your routine broke, and you may have spent weeks feeling helpless. Mention it to your doctor at your next visit, and sooner if it’s heavy. If the low mood lasts most days for two weeks or more, or you stop caring about people and plans you used to care about, tell your doctor even if it feels small next to the illness. Heavy mornings describes what that kind of low can feel like first thing in the day.

For loneliness, the most practical step is often one standing phone call a week: the same person, the same day, the same time. It gives the week a fixed point and gives someone a reason to notice if you’re not doing well. You might ask, “Would you be willing to call me Sunday evenings for a while, just to talk?” More ideas are in long evenings at home.

Planning a day around the energy you have

On days when your energy is limited, choose the one thing that matters most and put it at the time of day you tend to feel best. For some people that’s mid-morning, after breakfast. For others it’s the hour after a rest. Leave the rest of the day loose. One finished task usually feels better than five started ones.

Keep the tasks small enough to finish: open a window, address a letter, water the plant, or read a book for 10 minutes just because you like it. If even that is too much, then getting up, washing your face, or eating at the table instead of skipping the meal still counts. What matters is that the day holds at least one decision you made yourself, without contempt for the limits you didn’t choose.

A simple notebook can help, both for you and for your doctor. At the end of each day, write two lines: what you did, and how you felt afterward. “Walked to the mailbox, fine. Folded towels, tired by two.” After a couple of weeks you’ll have a picture of your good hours, and you can bring the notebook to your next appointment when you ask what you can safely add.

A limit tells you something useful, and it says nothing bad about your character. You can plan the afternoon to match how the morning went, and change the plan when your body says no. Wanting to be more active is a good question for your doctor before you test yourself on your own. Rest you choose counts as one of your hours. The rest worth avoiding is the kind you collapse into after a morning of pretending to be 20.

When you’re afraid it will come back

Fear that the illness will return is one of the most common feelings after being sick, and it can follow you into ordinary moments. A twinge on the stairs or a bad night’s sleep can set your mind racing through every worst case. You’re paying close attention because your body scared you, and that makes sense.

Two habits can keep the fear from running the whole day. First, write the worry down on your appointment card, so you know it will get a real answer from someone who can examine you. Second, give the worry a set time. Some people pick 15 minutes after lunch to think through their health questions, write them down, and then put the card away and go on with the afternoon. If a worry pops up at another time, you can tell yourself, “That goes on the card, and I’ll look at it after lunch.”

If a change in your body is new, sudden, or frightening, skip the waiting and call your doctor, or 911 for the emergency signs above. The set time is for the worries that go round and round, and it never replaces a call. When fear keeps you awake, racing thoughts at three has a few ways to settle a busy mind in the dark.

When other people want a certain story

Illness sometimes leaves a second mess behind: people who disappeared, people who took over, and people who needed you to be either tragic or fine. You may be angry, and the anger may be fair. Your Tuesday is still yours before any of that is settled, and you don’t need to win the quarrel or give a speech about what they owed you first. If a relationship needs a hard conversation, that’s your choice to make in your own time, with help from someone you trust.

You don’t owe anyone a story where the illness was a gift. It may have taught you a lesson, or it may only have cost you. When a visitor wants the inspiring version, you can say, “I’m up, the days are partial, and that’s the news for now.” When someone wants every detail, try, “I’d rather not go through the medical part today. Tell me what’s new with you.” When a relative keeps doing jobs you’d like to do again, you might say, “Thank you for all the help. I’d like to try making my own lunch this week.”

Accepting help is part of getting your life back too, as long as the help is the kind you choose. Specific requests are easier for people to say yes to. “Could you pick up groceries on Thursday?” lands better than “Let me know if you can help.” Keep a short list on the fridge of jobs other people could do, so when someone asks, you have an answer ready.

Going back to the people and places you love

Returning to the parts of your life that were paused, like church, a club, a standing lunch, or volunteering, is often easier in stages. Ask your doctor first whether the activity is safe for you now, and whether driving is allowed. Then start with a short version. You might go to the coffee hour after the service before you go back to the full Sunday, or stop by your club for half an hour instead of the whole meeting.

People may not know what to say to you, and some will avoid the subject entirely. You can make it easier for both of you by saying a line or two first: “It’s good to be back. I’m doing better, and I’m taking it slowly.” If you’d like them to stop asking about the illness, try, “Thanks for asking. I’d love to hear what I missed here.” If you need a chair, a ride, or an early exit, mention it at the start, so nobody has to guess and you don’t have to push past your limit to be polite.

Some old roles may not fit anymore. If you used to run the bake sale or carry the heavy boxes, it’s fine to say, “I can’t do that part this year. I could help with the sign-up sheet.” Changing your role keeps you in the room with people you care about, and it lets the role grow again later if your doctor agrees.

What a good week can look like after illness

A good week after an illness is usually smaller than the weeks you remember, and it can still feel like yours. It might hold one appointment where you got your questions answered, a walk to the door and back that your doctor said was fine, three meals at the table with the plate you like, one standing phone call, a chapter of a book, and two afternoons of rest you planned on purpose. One day might go badly, and the week still counts.

Over months, the card by the kettle gets shorter, the notebook shows more good hours, and the shoes in the hall go back to being only yours. Some limits may stay. You can build a life you recognize around them, with your doctor helping you decide what fits.

There’s more in the getting your life back room, short answers in the getting your life back FAQ, a definition in the glossary, and answers about the whole site in the FAQ.

If your illness means you can’t drive for now or for good, read When you stop driving.

Learn more from trusted sources

These public health agencies explain the medical side in more detail than this site does, and your own doctor can tell you what applies to you.

If you need care

Questions about the illness, your medicines, and what your body can do belong with your doctor. Keep taking any prescribed medicine as prescribed, and talk with your doctor before you change anything. If you’re in crisis in the United States, call or text 988. Outside the United States, call your local emergency number or a local crisis line. For sudden confusion, weakness on one side, trouble speaking, chest pain, or a severe headache, call 911.