Imagine you are heading to a well-known healing resort in the high mountains of somewhere land.  You have boarded a plane that will get you there, where you hope and expect positive changes in your health and life.
This flight is packed.  Folks on board have issues, many of which are related to hepatitis and liver disease.  But other folks are there too, looking for peace in times of personal hardships. They are all on this plane, seeking to recover energy and strength at Destination Health, a gathering with, in particular, various liver healing modalities. It is where people can let go of their pain, fear and worry of the effects of hepatitis on their life, and immerse themselves in new ways, fresh thoughts, comfort and a feeling of letting go.
But, it’s been a long, stormy flight, and our trip to Destination Health on this airplane has become a scary journey.  We go from side to side, blown around without a feeling of control.  As the trip progresses, we dip and drop more frequently.
Then the captain speaks through the speakers, “ Ladies and Gentlemen, we are expecting some stronger turbulence in our approach to Destination Healing.  Be sure your seat belts are fastened, and your seats are in the upright position.   If you must use the restroom, do so now, as we will be insisting that you stay in your seat during this final approach, which could be quite turbulent.”
In other words, forget the fantasy of this story, while attempting to get back to your real lives, strap yourself in.  No, there’s no plane full of health seekers, but there is you, maybe someone you know, and me.  For me, I escaped the strong side effects from ribavirin and Harvoni for quite a while.  Week after week, I cruised along, up until about Week 17 of the 24-week treatment.  But when the tougher side effects (mostly deep fatigue) came, they came in full force.  Many of you face this throughout much of your treatment.  
For a long time, I’ve been writing and speaking about how to maintain the best feeling that you can, given your circumstances.  There’s rest, good nutrition, peaceful practices, and more.  
Beyond all, there is the enduring challenge to see the beauty of what you have, even if it is not what you had.  Today I wasn’t doing a very good job of that. Staring at my swollen belly in the bathroom mirror, I reflected on my interchanges with Sophie over the last couple of days. I cut a walk short that was draining me, and got ready to leave for my new part time teaching job, and I stopped to see my dear one as she finished making her cheese.  
I looked at her and burst into tears.  She had a trim, fit, socially active, working husband with many friends.  Not so much on any of those counts right now.  What I must look like through her eyes. What is it like to withstand my unfocused ways?
But, I have to move past these feelings as I have before.  Meditation with an active third eye, that way of seeing through meditation helps me, and remembering that this is the home stretch, and I’m about to end my meds in 30 days.
What comes after that?  No way of knowing, but I will be armed with ways to not fall in the hole of despair.  When the red blood cells recover and some level of strength returns, I will go back to the pool, real walks, more active gardening and return to all that I love.  Along with my spiritual practices like yoga and meditation, getting plenty of rest, eating fresh, nutritious food, and staying open to the feelings of my family and others around me, I will stay positive.  
I will.  Best of luck to you in your journey, and in your ability to deal with the turbulence.
Matt Starr
Health and Life Coach, CPCC