The Story of My Sickness…Part 1

I have been trying to write this post for 6 months. It obviously isn’t one that is easy for me to write. People know that I am sick, but they are not sure about my sickness. It’s something I have needed to write about but couldn’t because I didn’t know the answer. I will start at the very beginning (a very great place to start.)

Once upon a time, (ha, I wish…here is my life in rewind starting around Thanksgiving 2007.)

It started out with severe vomiting. I wondered if I had lost my mind. It was often enough at first to think I was catching the flu every week. It then grew to the point where I couldn’t hold anything down. Wasn’t I a 27 year old mother? “What was up with this,” I thought. What was my issue? I really wanted to know what the “dealio” was.

I went to my doctor and she pretty much dismissed my complaints (which doctors do often.) She recommended counseling and ordered some blood work. I left the doctor’s office feeling confused. I am a mom. At that point, I was a foster mom. Now, all of the sudden, I could have an eating disorder or I could be crazy???? The doctor seemed to think this was all a mental issue. Maybe it was mind over matter? I know one thing…I was pretty sure this was not what I wanted. It didn’t make sense. Yet, this was the doctor’s answer.

I followed directions and found a counselor. I mean, certainly if I was making myself sick, I needed to stop. I had a business to run and kids who needed my care. I didn’t have time to be sick, let alone bring the sickness upon myself. At this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get better.

So, if the doctor was open to the idea of me being crazy, then I needed to do what she said, right? I mean after all, SHE was the doctor, not me. You trust the almighty wearer of the white coat, right?

Within a week, I got a call from the doctor’s office. This was a surprise seeing that last week I was crazy (hmmm.) The doctor called saying that one of my tests came back positive for H. Pylori and the receptionist called in heavy duty antibiotics over the phone for me to take. That was the end of our conversation. It was all in a matter of minutes.

I remember thinking to my delight, that I no longer had mental issues. Instead, I had a gross bacteria growing in my stomach that needed intense antibiotics. I don’t know why this was good news to me but it was. I was so easily convinced I was bringing this on myself that I was relieved to know there was a solution other than what the doctor had said…”mental” issues. I quickly looked up H. Pylori and found the cause to be gross: such as, bad food, tainted water, fecal matter. It was ok though, because the bacteria were getting killed by these miracle drugs. Little did I know that the solution was really our first clue that things were really wrong.

After the course of antibiotics were finished, my life became harder not easier. I began to have fainting spells and I was constantly tired. I slept over 12 hours a day. This was not good. A Mom sleeping 12 hours doesn’t go over too well in a household that needs her.

We stopped fostering, which was one of the most heartbreaking acts for me to do. DYFS would call and I would have to say “no.” No isn’t an easy thing to say, especially when you are hearing a terrible story about a child who needs to be loved. Loving them, I could still do; taking care of them, I could not. So, we closed our doors to fostering and began to search for some more answers to my medical problems. We still had so many questions. Why was I always so tired? Why was I always fainting? Why was my vision failing me at times? Why? Why? Why? (Feb. 2008)

I pleaded with the doctor as I returned to the office. Since sleep is a sign of depression…what do you think she recommended? It was quickly suggested to once again go to a counselor (what the doctor didn’t know, was that I had never stopped seeing my counselor). I went home desperate for someone to help.

My counselor was clueless too. She didn’t think I seemed depressed other than being sad that I was sick. She sent me to a psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist and I became great buds. After each session, I would ask him what was wrong with me. The only thing he could suggest was that I was a little disorganized and may have ADHD (Hmmm, interesting, LOL. I always wondered if I had that, but this really wasn’t an “answer” to the current situation). Back then, I needed an answer. We, as a team (between me, my counselor and my psychiatrist) decided it was unlikely I was depressed.

As I researched more and more about H. Pylori, I became aware that I needed to go to a gastro doctor. (April 08)

I made an appointment and talked with him. He definitely wanted to explore more options. I was scheduled the next week for an upper endoscopy and lower endoscopy. I remember getting put under and begging the doctor to find out what was wrong with me. I knew my quality of life was declining…we just didn’t know why. When I awoke from anesthesia, I cried because everything turned out fine (no wonder why the doctors think I am loopy, LOL.) I explained to my gastro doctor that I knew something was wrong. He wanted me to take some more tests.

(June)

I took more tests. One of the tests included eating and drinking radiation and laying still under a camera for two hours (did I mention I had ADHD…this was torture.) I survived the two tests (two hours each: one for eating and one for drinking.) Thinking about it brings back the taste…yuck ). My husband sat by me the whole time because it was so hard. For this kind of test you cannot be sedated because that would slow down my body. What they were keeping track of was my stomach and digestive speed in real time.

I went home happy that it was Friday and relieved that it was over.

By Monday of that week I got a phone call saying to come in. I scheduled an appointment for Thursday knowing I was going to hear some bad news.

In the days leading up, I went and researched what the test was/could tell me. One possibility was cancer (yikes,) and the other was gastro paresis. I was sad and scared, but happy-yeah happy-because finally, I was going to figure out what was wrong with me. Or would I????……….

Related posts:

1. What’s Wrong With Me? Part 4
2. What’s Wrong With Me? Part 3
3. What’s Wrong With Me? Part 2