Ramblings of A Prisoner of Flesh

Screen Shot 2017-12-11 at 4.18.51 PMChronic illness is the forced embodiment of an unsolicited reality

It is detecting the ever-changing direction of the wind,

Nimble focus to which way it screams the loudest

A constant game of tug-of-war

Paralyzed by pain- aching, burning, stabbing

Awake in constant slumber, a fog unyielding

Racing thoughts get lost on the way to the tongue

A prisoner of failing flesh

Always too much, too little

Never just enough…

Once aiming for superlatives, now grounded in indistinction

Unclenching hyper-vigilance and embracing helpless dependency

“Sustainable”, instead of “healthy”, as the label of betterment

Trading existing for thriving

Surviving for living

Understanding for tolerance, and then only sometimes

Living in everyone’s expectation that if they try; at access, at

niceness, then that trying, for us, should be enough

Slivers of doubt become trusted tools

Can I do this? Will they be there? What will be left of me?

Be prepared for anything.

Be prepared for anything…

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Iron Infusion #2

Dr. Wang recently started me on IV iron infusions and is also considering IV folate for the future.

My blood counts have always been low (I’ve been anemic & deficient in multiple micronutrients for a while), Screen Shot 2017-11-09 at 10.27.22 PMbut levels dropped really dramatically in the past two months. My hemoglobin went from 11.0 to 9.6, iron went from 7 to 2, folate dropped from 6.1 to 3.2, ferritin went from 6 to 4, B12 dropped from 319 to 220, etc.

I had my first infusion last week. I was a little bit itchy during and sore after, but otherwise it went really well.

Today, I had my second iron infusion and all I can say is, yikes!

5.5 hours, 2 episodes of anaphylaxis, ice packs head to toe, nonstop coughing & dry heaving for almost an hour, a few mini candy canes, & lots & lots of IV fluids, steroids & Benadryl later, we are finally home!

Last iron infusion was so calm & uneventful…but I’ve been in a weird systemic reaction all week & today my mast cells were just not having it. My hematologist kept coming in & looking at me with stern concern & my poor mother was so nervous…but the nurses were beyond amazing & sooo quick to pick up on things, even before I did! I Spent the whole time laughing & joking with them, making the best of things as I always do…even resorting to communicating through funny faces when anaphylaxis stole my voice.

Life is what you make it, & times like this can either be an ordeal or an adventure. I’m choosing to find joy in the little things & praising God through it all. Circumstances like this are out of our control, so we may as well laugh out loud as we hold on for the ride.. 🙂

It’s Only Been 3 Days…

I am honestly terrified for this semester.  In so many ways, this is my last chance to turn things around.  But I am so, so very worn– physically, mentally & emotionally.  Simply getting out of bed or responding to text messages seems too hard some days, nevermind successfully functioning as a student.  I know that worrying fixes nothing, and I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself: it’s only been three days.  But before the semester even began, I felt like I was drowning.  I’m working my very hardest and trying to keep my head up, but I really don’t think I can do this…

Rest In Peace

As the morning light peeks through the window and you stir into consciousness, sometimes for a fleeting second, you forget.

But you are jerked back into reality as your heart begins to pound– head spinning, choking back acid, muscles aching, nerves burning.

Most days, you lie there for a while, trying to breathe through the pain and gather enough strength to go on about your morning routine.

But a big part of you wonders why you bother to get up at all.

You drag yourself from bed to fight the same battles each day. No end in sight, simply running on a treadmill uphill, hoping to maintain an unfortunate baseline.

It all just becomes so, so very tiresome.

Your physical health continues to deteriorate as your spirit is crushed under the weight of a crumbling sense of self.

You know there are people you would let down if you were to leave. There are those who would suffer if you were to suddenly cease to exist.

So you press on, trying to ignore the fact that you’re trapped– fake smile, one foot in front of the other.

As time passes, your increasing inability to keep up with the world pulls you deeper and deeper into the pit of isolation.

People grow up, get married, move away, retire, or simply forget your existence completely.

You watch as everyone you love fades away.

As night falls and you are left alone with your thoughts, your chest aches with the thought of how alone you have become.

You feel the sting of being unwanted, unneeded, outgrown, forgotten, abandoned.

But as the night turns to dawn, you realize there is no one left to let down. Or at least, there is no one who would have life ripped out from under them if you were to no longer be.

Your body is broken– your very being exhausted and worn– but you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

Tears gilde down your cheeks and a smile slowly creeps across your face as you realize you may finally rest in peace.

 

[Just some musings from a brain and body currently consumed by painsomnia. No worries– I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Keep fighting, guys.. ❤ ]

Urine-ologist With Mom

Today I had another slew of appointments, one of them being with my urologist at Duke South. It was a pretty uneventful appointment, but I am incredibly frustrated with the state of my urological health…

I have my THIRD infection in two months! The first two were complicated infections with uncommon strains of bacteria, and they really kicked my butt. This most recent culture grew Klebsiella pneumoniae which is a pretty common culprit of UTIs…but it is a difficult bacteria to get rid of nonetheless.

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I honestly do not remember what it feels like to not have a UTI! My bladder and kidneys are constantly hurting, with pain ranging from slight soreness to knock-you-to-the-floor sharpness.

My urologist reassured me today that I am doing nothing wrong to cause these problems.

These infections are a result of EDS causing my bladder to be ‘too stretchy’ and dysautonomia affecting nerve signals to my smooth muscles. She also said that prednisone is likely complicating things as it is an immunosuppressant.

As far as managing my condition(s) goes (in this case, taking prophylactic antibiotics and self-cathing), I am doing everything right. I suppose knowing that makes me feel a little better…but in a way, the fact that this is not my fault increases my frustration because there isn’t anything I can do to improve the situation… agh.

On a more positive note, appointments with mom are always an adventure! She’s truly a character, that one. Here’s a video of some post-appointment shenanigans with my partner in crime.. 🙂 Love this crazy woman so much! ❤

Two Years Gallbladder Free!

It’s been two years today since I had my gallbladder surgically removed! Two years free from crippling gallbladder ‘attacks’ that knocked me to the floor. It’s a nice thing to reflect on, because with that one surgery, I was CURED of what the pathologists deemed chronic cholecystitis. I wish all my illnesses and health woes had such easy fixes!

EDS Dance Moves

May is Ehlers-Danlos Syndromes Awareness Month! I plan to put together an awareness video 18491801_10211400950093038_3886477973530592870_oeventually…but in the meantime, here’s a sneak peak at some weird EDS hand movements. Notice how my hand almost looks like it’s turned inside out? That ‘flying swan’ hand position is like our EDS gang sign.. 😉

No Wonder I’m Exhausted

After a difficult semester full of medical twists and turns, I am needing to request a retroactive withdrawal. To begin the process, I had to submit a statement detailing the reasons why I was needing to withdraw.

I found myself struggling for words and anxious about the withdrawal process, so my mom kindly got on the phone and tried to help me figure out how to phrase the letter.

After rattling off a long list of symptoms, procedures, and medical vicissitudes, she finished with:

“This is something I’ve been dealing with for the past 5+ years…”

Wow, she’s right: 5+ years of this crazy, inconsistent life.

5+ years of waking up to fight fatigue, widespread pain, nausea, dizziness, tachycardia, low blood pressure, vertigo, migraines, dystonia, syncope, anaphylaxis, chronic infections, subluxations, dislocations, cognitive impairment, tachycardia…

5+ years of taking more medications than most 80 years olds. Drugs to treat symptoms and disease processes and then even more drugs to treat side effects of those drugs.

5+ years of needle sticks, blown IVs, invasive therapies, painful procedures; “eating” through a tube in my intestines; relying on a wheelchair (though using it less than I should due to fear of judgement); stabbing myself with EpiPens, grabbing at my throat gasping for breath; faking smiles, forcing laughs and constantly hiding behind an “it’s all good”; trying, and usually failing, to balance health, family and school, struggling not to define my existence by my disabilities…

No wonder I’m exhausted.

“But You Don’t Look Sick”

Earlier tonight, I went to a house party with my roommates. I hadn’t been feeling well all day and I really did not want to go, but it was the first time all three of us were going out together since Halloween and I didn’t want to be a party pooper.

It turns out my gut feeling was right and I should have stayed home, as I got really sick at the party. There were so many strong odors, loud music and yelling and bright flashing lights…

The room began to spin like I was on a tilt-a-whirl. My head was splitting…my heart was pounding, racing around 180 and skipping beats…I was shaking, fighting not to throw up…and I was teetering at the point of pre-syncope where I was sure I was going to lose consciousness.

I ended up running outside to the front yard and sitting in the grass. My throat was beginning to close, and it was getting very hard to breathe– I needed an EpiPen.

But this story isn’t about getting sick at a social gathering and needing to go home…unfortunately, that is a pretty common occurrence and nothing worth writing home about… 😉 This is about what happened after I realized I needed to leave.

As I searched frantically through my tube bag, I realized I left my keys at another apartment at College Inn. I ran back inside to where my roommates where playing beer pong. Standing there, shaking from epi and further set off by all the overwhelming stimulus, I explained the my situation to them.

Lucie held my arm and tried to help me come up with a plan. It was difficult because she was a little drunk and the music was booming, but she was trying her best and eventually suggested I use her keys and just leave the apartment unlocked for when she and Hannah returned later. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but we figured out a way this could work.

After thanking Lucie profusely, I was ready to run out of the house when Hannah loudly interjected, “You’re leaving? But you look FINE!”

I explained to her that I just had to use an EpiPen, I felt like I was going to pass out, and I was NOT fine. She rolled her eyes, and then rudely proceeded to touched all over my face and neck saying, “Your face is not even swollen!” and making a bunch of similar comments, callous and even accusing.  She ended her unsolicited assessment with, “You’re fine, you just don’t want to stay at the party. Come on, you told me that at the beginning.”

Not only did she brush me off and only begrudgingly offer advice, rolling her eyes every time I repeated I could not hear her over the music and the ringing in my ears (that was signaling I was about to faint)…she even stopped Lucie from trying to help me!

After helplessly trying to explain my health situation a few more times, I couldn’t take it anymore and ran outside. I needed to get an uber and get out of there fast.

When they came outside with me, where there was no loud music or crowd of partiers, it became obvious that I wasn’t lying about or exaggerating my situation.

Then Hannah was like “Ohhh, I thought you were faking it! I guess you’re not!” and then and ONLY then did she care, stop making rude comments, and proceed to try to help me.

The lights and the loud, crowded party atmosphere made me feel so scared as my body was failing me…and things certainly would have been a lot scarier (perhaps even escalating to needing an ambulance) if Lucie were not there. I am so thankful for her.

Now, I understand that Hannah, too, was a bit drunk. And I’ve seen her drunk multiple times before & know that she gets really wrapped up in the moment…but I cannot help but feel a little hurt (especially in this fragile extra sickly epi’ed-up state I suppose, haha). I don’t mean to be emotional, but Hannah’s callousness and aggressive assumption that just because I ‘looked’ okay in the moment, meant I must be fine and merely “faking it” really, REALLY hurt my feelings and made a bad situation much worse…

I got home and cried so hard. It still stings to think about, honestly.

I am not going to hold a grudge…not just because she was slightly intoxicated, but because continuing to dwell on it won’t help anyone. I will be fine and bounce back by the time she & Lucie get home from the party…

But interactions like this one tonight are the reason we desperately need more awareness about these complex, debilitating invisible illnesses. We must stop accusations like, “But you don’t look sick” and save others from having to endure the judgement, mean comments, and unwillingness to help that I faced tonight.

This is definitely not in reference to Shannon (she’s not usually like this & she’s my friend) or this situation at all…but as we spoonies like to say:  I don’t look sick? Well, you don’t look stupid, but ya know…looks can be deceiving.. 😉

It’s Not Their Journey To Make Sense Of

“Not everyone will understand your journey. That’s fine. It’s not their journey to make sense of. It’s yours.”

My life went to hell in August of 2012. It had been headed that way for years and years, but August 9th was the day that all was officially lost, with no hope of ever even returning to baseline…

And on that spiraling path to hell, I not only lost my family, my home, my belongings, many of my friends– I also lost my health. At a time in life where most were at prom, doing college tours, vacationing with family and friends, I became sicker and sicker with mysterious symptoms until I was completely disabled.

As time went on, I tried a multitude of medications, procedures, therapies and diets just to be met with more sickness, pain and fear.

I grieve who and what I once was. I used to be healthier and full of energy, able to eat whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. I was good in school. I volunteered. I dreamed big dreams and made strides toward making those dreams a reality. Despite a life of turmoil and inconsistency at home, I was able to push through and keep going. My friends remember me that way.

But now this body of mine is limited and thus my life is limited…

Every time life hands me a new limitation, I embark on the path of adapting to a new reality. Accepting new limitations throughout these years has been difficult for me and seems to be even more difficult for my parents.

I suppose I should not have been surprised that my peers and friends struggled with them too…

As I grew sicker, my friends became distant, one by one, until they eventually fell off the map altogether.

Their disappearance was due largely to my inability to keep up– physically, of course…but often mentally and emotionally, too, as life circumstances and the 24/7 nature of chronic illness wore me out so intensely…

I would often find myself feeling sad, guilty, even angry…and always very, very lonely.

Where were all those who I helped in their time of need? Those I had stayed up all night with, holding them as they cried? Those whose aid I rushed to at 3am, regardless of what was going on in my own life? Those who I defended, fought for, even lied for? Those whose children I cared for as my own while they tried to piece their own lives together?

It hurt for my friends to leave me and not support me through some of my darkest days, but I have slowly come to realize it’s really not about my limits but about their own.

We whose worlds are colored by chronic illness and disability are physically limited, but others are limited in their ability to understand and empathize.

At this point, the majority know I struggle with my health…my feeding tube and wheelchair use make it pretty obvious at times. However, when I am around others, I wear a mask I’ve perfected over the years: a smile, a laugh, a “pretty good, thanks, how are you?” I do my very best to hide the truth about the debilitating pain and discomfort I constantly endure. I do this for their sake, sure– but also because I have an EXTREMELY difficult time admitting things are not okay or that I need help (even to doctors and therapists). I am perpetually optimistic, at least outwardly. All of this to say, it is no surprise most have no idea the kind of impact chronic illness has on every part of my life and daily functioning.

Everyone has battles and struggles in this life, but for most, their difficulties do not reside in their bodies. They experience sickness and physical pain, sure– but not in the way we do. Pain is not their constant companion, always lurking in their shadow. They are unable to truly comprehend the realities of a life battling your own body, and therefore they easily dismiss it as an exaggeration, nuisance or simple idiosyncrasy.

I cannot help but feel annoyed, isolated or hurt by the gross lack of understanding at times…I am only human. But I have realized that it is not about me. It’s taken a long time to accept this, and many days I still struggle to…but I am finding strength in my fragility and lessons amidst my pain.

“Not everyone will understand your journey. That’s fine. It’s not their journey to make sense of. It’s yours.”

Keep fighting the good fight, guys.. ❤