Clarity

I did something bad, and I feel really guilty about it.  Not guilty about what I actually did, per se, but guilty over lying.  Or, at least omitting the truth and being otherwise deceitful…

Because of severe exhaustion, both physically and mentally, I have been really struggling lately to be an active participant in my life.  And, whether due to injury from 9+ concussions, lack of blood flow to the brain, medication side effects, not sleeping, migraine pain and cloudiness or simply a bad cold or a long night of vomiting, my brain fog has been absolutely debilitating.  Unsurprisingly, this has significantly impacted my academic standing.  I love my major and will study for hours on end, but I cannot seem to retain information no matter how hard I try. My short term memory is laughable, and I just feel totally “out of it” overall.

So…I took some Adderall.

One of my physicians prescribed me Adderall in 2014 to trial for hypotension and chronic fatigue and it worked beautifully.

However, the Adderall I took this time was not my prescription. I bought it.

Yes, I BOUGHT IT from a guy in our apartment complex who I knew dealt drugs. I’ve never done anything like that before. 10 little blue pills for $50.

It was almost as if a weighted, fuzzy blanket had been lifted and someone cracked a window to allow in some fresh air. My thoughts didn’t feel as loud and chaotic. I felt peaceful and calm, yet alert and capable.

$50 allowed me to catch up and succeed academically despite my broken body, saving my semester.

I didn’t experience any negative side effects. No nausea, no noticeable increase in tachycardia, no shakiness, no anxiety.

Those pills pulled me from the deepest pits of depression – both with happiness and relief over finally succeeding and getting caught up with school and the fact that I actually had some energy for once.

Sitting up wasn’t a chore. Writing an email or replying to a text message was no longer a daunting task. I looked forward to reading once again. Homework and studying didn’t feel impossible.

I experienced mental clarity for the first time since I can remember (ha ha, accidental brain fog/poor memory joke). That in itself gave me hope.

I was honestly starting to believe that I’d never be able to think again and that I was somehow past the point of fixing…but this experience has shown me that the person I used to know and love (or at least like, haha) is still in there somewhere. While I may live in a broken body, I am not broken.

I’m not sure if my moral compass was bruised along with my brain, but my feelings of relief and excitement are overshadowing my guilt and shame, at least for the time being.

I still have one left…

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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…

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.

Catch-22

Well, I am supposed to take an Anatomy & Physiology exam in 4 hours & 9 minutes…but that’s not happening. 😦

My health is much more stable than it has been in years past: I really have no right to complain. But things have declined since last semester & I feel so lousy 24/7 with dizziness, vertigo, nausea, migraines, joint pain, abdominal pain & distention, sharp pins & needles in my fingers, chest tightness, ulceration & bleeding in/around my stoma, feeding tube troubles, anaphylaxis, temperature regulation issues, bladder inflammation, UTIs, blood pooling, weakness, etc. etc. etc.

Academically, I am drowning. Studying for this test, I’ve watched videos, made flashcards, drawn pictures, constructed diagrams, read the textbook, took online quizzes– but NOTHING is sticking. My fatigue has been crippling & my brain fog has been worse than ever before. I am SO burnt out from fighting so hard to accomplish tasks most my age don’t even have to think twice about.

And the most frustrating part of all?

Being sick, taking a billion medications & supplements, doctors appointments, procedures– all keep me from giving 100% in school.

And then, on the other hand…

Being in school, going to classes, doing homework, studying, going to necessary meetings– all keep me from giving 100% to taking care of my health.

It is definitely a catch-22!

Anyway, tonight I made some big decisions about this semester & about my academic endeavors as a whole. I have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow, so we shall see. I am hoping to leave that meeting with a plan & some hope for the future…

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studying the cardiovascular system

Struggling For Words

I have been really struggling to find my words lately, and it has been incredibly disheartening. Writing has always been something I’ve enjoyed and something in which I could seek clarity and solace, but these days even sending text messages is a chore. There is so much I want to say, but the thoughts slip through my fingers before I can put pen to paper. I’ve noticed this struggle to form cohesive sentences has gotten worse since my last concussion (lucky #7). Even speaking takes more mental energy than it has in days prior. I’m really hoping this cloudiness is temporary…

Where Was I?

Sometimes I look into the mirror and at the person staring back at me like…what happened?  When did I become an adult?  Where did that little girl go?  Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was playing outside, dancing in her bedroom- dreaming of the independence of the grown-up world?  Where was I all those years?  I would have protected her.  I would have told her that being a grown up is not all it’s cracked up to be.  I would have begged her to stay young.  I would have shielded her from every little thing that stole away her blissful innocence. Those eyes in the mirror have lost their light.  Even when she smiles, she looks so worn.  Battered.  She stares back at me, brows furrowed, as if to say, “Why didn’t you save me?”  I slowly reach out to her, and our hands meet.  A tear slides down her face.  I want to tell her not to cry…that it will all be okay…but my breath is caught in my throat.  Looking into her eyes I whisper, “I’m sorry.”  And then I turn away.  

Dysautonomia Awareness Month: Day #3

Fact: The majority of Dysautonomia patients- specifically POTS patients- are hypovolemic, despite adequate hydration.  Standard blood and urine tests may not always detect this hypovolemia, as the patient is typically deficient in plasma and red blood cells.  Blood volume analysis with a radio-tracer can be used to evaluate a POTS patient for hypovolemia (Dysautonomia International).

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Hypovolemia, or low blood volume, is a daily struggle for me.  In order to combat this issue, I receive two to four liters of IV Saline each week, as well as push a liter or more of water and Pedialyte through my j-tube each day.

And The War Wages On

I work my very hardest to be “normal” and not to bring anyone down. However, I must say…

It’s indescribably disheartening to sit helpless as a disease detains you in the prison of your own body. You look back at your former life with nostalgic envy, realizing you took it all for granted. From the most elaborate vacation to a simple walk to the bathroom. Every day without pain or fatigue- when you had the potential to say “yes” to every exciting invitation instead of, “No, I’m too sick” to any suggestion at all…so many times that people cease asking altogether.

What I would give for the “normal”- even “boring”- feelings that many my age detest. I would love to get up early to the sound of an alarm clock jarring me out of a sweet dreamland for yet another predictable day of monotony. To get up out of bed, brush my teeth, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast…

To not have to worry about about medicines, treatments, injections, IVs, emergency room visits, hospital stays, dizziness, fainting, blacking out, heart palpitations, dangerously low blood pressure, vertigo, excessive fatigue, weakness, nausea, vomiting, dehydration, migraines, blindness, shortness of breath, tachycardia, hives, anaphylaxis…

To set out to enjoy another day of teenage normalcy instead of settling into the rigor that is the 24/7 management of an unpredictable and all-consuming illness, hoping that my well-disciplined routine will allow me one more day of maintenance and “just getting by.”

I am not seeking your pity- I am incredibly thankful for the life I have, truly, despite my limitations. But I do plead for your understanding.

Please see that I am not my illnesses: I am me…

I’m holding my ground as the army that is chronic illness pushes forward. It may have more weaponry and experience, but I have an amazing team, a little stubbornness, and a lot of untiring faith.