The Mold Returns (2021)

Chapter Eight:

For nearly two years, I lived in a fragile kind of peace. A remission that felt like sunlight after endless rain. But peace is delicate, and storms have a way of finding cracks.

On June 9th, 2021, the cracks split wide open.Another water intrusion. Another leak. Another invisible invasion of mold.

And just like before, my body unraveled. The progress I had fought so hard for slipped through my fingers. Symptoms I thought I had outgrown returned with vengeance. Reactions grew sharper, more unpredictable. Medications that had once been lowered now climbed again. The balance I had maintained so carefully collapsed under the weight of an environment poisoned against me.

The decline was brutal.Food became an enemy once more. My already-limited diet shrank further, cutting out what little variety I had left. Even pears one-third of my daily intake, one of my most dependable safe foods were lost. My blood sugar spiraled. My body weakened.

The mold didn’t just steal my health; it stole my momentum. The walks I had once cherished grew shorter, broken into small intervals I could barely sustain. The energy I had gained evaporated, replaced by exhaustion that clung no matter how much I rested.

This time was different.

Because when I finally left that damaged apartment and stepped into a brand-new, never-before-lived-in home, I began to feel the shift again. The symptoms did not vanish overnight, but the air was lighter, cleaner, kinder to me. Slowly, progress returned.

My headaches once daily torment became rare.The ringing in my ears stopped.Brain fog lifted, leaving me clearer, sharper, more myself.My hair, once thinning at a terrifying rate, grew back thick and steady.The rashes faded, the eczema disappeared, the sinus drainage cleared.My throat softened, no longer hoarse, no longer raw from constant clearing.Joint aches eased. GI issues lessened. Even my POTS and mast cell flares, the drastic swings in blood pressure and heart rate, quieted to a whisper.

I could shower again without a chair.I could move through my day without collapsing into naps.I could perform daily tasks with a freedom I thought I had lost forever.

Not everything returned. My diet remained perilously thin. Pears were gone. Vitamin D3, once accepted so easily had to be restarted, this time at a fraction of the original dose. I was still unable to walk long distances without tiring, still tethered to medication multiple times a day. But I was improving.

Even Benadryl once a constant, every 2 to 4 hours became rare, used only on occasion. My body was regaining some ground.

But the scars of the storm remained.The mold had taken something I would never fully get back.

Still, I had not been defeated.Because even in decline, even when the world closed in, I refused to surrender the small joys that anchored me.

Written By

The Original "Girl In A Bubble"