I've decided that it's time for me to get back in touch with my inner Warrior Woman. (Alternative terms could include names like b/witch, but Warrior Woman just feels more powerful to me.)
I've mentioned in my now incredibly sporadic posts that I've been experiencing some health challenges lately. My fatigue, weakness, and shakiness have made simple tasks challenging. Seriously, there's nothing like breaking out in a sweat and getting all trembly and pukey when you're just trying to take a shower, for crying out loud! And poor Trent is still working on getting stronger after the knee problems have knocked him for a loop.
There have been some frightening moments with this weakness, including almost collapsing one day this spring on a walk home from our nearby supermarket. When I realized how much control my body was having over me, I decided I needed to go see my doctor, Dr. Mike. Damn lupus, was my thought. I'll need to take some Prednisone and get all emotionally unstable and constantly hungry, but at least I'll feel better.
So this Monday I did just that. I was concerned, because I had sort of mentioned my symptoms in passing, before they were occurring daily and before the almost-collapse. Mike attributed it to low blood sugar, which makes sense as the symptoms are quite similar. Before I told him my symptoms this week I informed him that it was not my blood sugar; I have tested it numerous times during these episodes and it's been normal. And just when I was expecting him to tell me it was time for steroids, he pulled a fast one on me. He said he was pretty sure it was my heart.
After said heart relocated from where it dropped into my bowels, I remembered what I had been saying and thinking for quite a while, that I hoped it was just a lupus flare and not something serious like my heart. An EKG at the office didn't show anything other than a fast heartbeat, so I'll be seeing a cardiologist in mid-August.
The good news is that the things he suspects may be wrong are fairly easily addressed, one with medications, and the other with inserting a stent through a small incision in the groin. In professional medical parlance, I believe it is referred to as a little cut near the hoo-hah. Bwahahaha!
I'll admit that it sort of hit me in the face, but I didn't fall apart. I had some water built up in my eyes, but none running down my face. I was feeling - I'm not sure what I was feeling. I still had the ability to make silly jokes and such, but have been thoughtful. Yesterday, as we drove to Trent's appointment with an arthritis specialist, I said, "It's time for me to get in touch with my inner bitch."
You see, that's how I've survived this long. When I was told at age 29 that I had an incurable autoimmune disease that was actively trying to destroy my kidneys, I did cry a bit. It was a shock. And then when I read in a book that someone kindly checked out for me from our local library that my expected life span was at least ten years, unless my kidneys were affected, I got mad.
On my first visit to my doctor's office after my hospitalization and diagnosis, I was in a room having blood drawn when Dr. Mike walked by. He leaned his head back to look into the room and asked me how I was doing. When I responded that I felt like crap, he said, no, how was I doing? I quite honestly told him that I was pissed off and he said, "Good, you'll get better."
I think I may have been too angry to allow myself to fall apart for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Since my diagnosis came just before Christmas, the holiday gatherings came with lots of questions and explanations. I didn't go to many family events, though, it was generally too exhausting. One very clear memory is of one of my cousins saying how sorry she was for what I was going through. Without thinking, I told her not to waste her time feeling sorry for me unless I gave up. And if I gave up, instead of feeling sorry for me, she should give me a kick in the backside. Actually, I used the word ass, if the truth be told.
My reaction to the ten-year life expectancy was equally angry. I said screw this and quit reading things that filled me with negativity. I decided that if I was living on a ten-year plan, everything after ten years was gravy. This December I will hit my 30-year mark. There have been struggles, but I often say I'm too mean for lupus to knock me completely down. And if I can handle all of that, I can handle a little problem with my heart. To say nothing of the fact that having a problem with my heart at least proves that I have one.
Warrior Woman program loading in 10, 9, 8...
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