Scared, Sick, Tired

Being home from the hospital initially felt amazing. I was buzzed off IV Prednisone, and glad to sleep in my own bed. Or at least try. I woke up Saturday feeling generally like crap. A friend came over later that day to hang out with me, and I went to do foot reflexology. It helped a bit, but soon I was bak to misery. Solid foods and I weren’t getting along.

On Sunday I managed, after another night of fitful sleep, to eat half of a small baked potato. I slept better, thanks to some crafty snuggling by the guy that apple heat to a sore hip, and the pressure I needed to stop the pain, but it was only for 3-4 hours. After that I was up every hour. It seems like I’ve been made of urine since starting this Prednisone, despite not drinking nearly enough to compensate for the loss.

On Monday I woke up with a skull crushing headache, convinced I was dying. I tried to call the Behcet’s Clinic in New York, but it was a round around game due to the fact they’re not accepting new patients. Apparently if my rheumatologist confines them to take me they will, and my rheumatologist is convinced they will, but for me it’s a difficult blow. I also found out that I have to handle the cost of the flight, boarding, everything. I’m hoping family in the area can lend their apartments, however sparse the space, but I’m admitted for testing and my insurance doesn’t cover it, that means raising more money.

I’ve started a Go Fund me, but I try and keep things private on here. I also know a lot of us are on here with similar struggles. In any event, if you’d like to message me and request the link I’d happily share it, I just don’t want this blog to have an actual face on it because it’s more about dealing with chronic illness, while trying to keep my privacy since it is public.

Monday was an up and down day. I spaced out the Prednisone so I could eat some bland gluten free pizza, but I only ate half of what I’d usually consume. Then I was up with abdominal pain, and now it’s Tuesday and I’m up with more abdominal pain. Chills, shakes, nausea, headache, check all the boxes, I’m in steroid induced hell. I did more foot reflexology yesterday, but it wasn’t as helpful. I was relaxed enough to eat, but the numbness, tingling, and weakness, have returned with a vengeance.

Today I see the eye doctor, and I’m not dreading it, I’m just annoyed the appointment is so early in the morning, and that I’m awake even earlier than I need to be. The second issue is that I need rheumatology, and I see them tomorrow, but I don’t know if I can go another day without IV fluids or treatment of some kind.

I feel the disease testing me know, all the issues I’ve had before, coming at once, an then this neurological plague. The fog is probably from the prednisone, but I keep wondering if it’s going to get worse, or better. I walk with a walker and wonder who would ever want to take me out? Will I ever go out to a club again? I see myself in the mirror, when my eye aren’t blurry, and I see someone who is too thin, and getting thinner, and I lament the stretch marks from the steroids and the weight loss with a sickening sigh. People say we all have scars, but when you’re still trying to win the battle it’s hard to wear theme.

My life, for the most part, is something I take as it comes. We don’t get to choose what happens to us, just how we handle it. I try not to be negative but sometimes it’s hard not to sink to a depressed place. For the first time in a long time, I’m truly scared. I can’t walk unassisted. I can’t use dangerous items like my stove. I have assistive devices scattered over the apartment, and people on call to stay with me when my roommate is gone because I shouldn’t be alone. I lean on “the guy” way too much, though he does offer, and I just don’t want to weigh him down with all the negativity I simply can’t control.

Being sick is one thing, being sick publicly is another. We all get tired of, “but you don’t look sick,” when we’re exhausted and turning down invites or leaving an event early, but having people notice your deterioration, can be even more jolting. I went from okay, to using a walker in 10 days. Most people didn’t see me wobbling before the hospital, and nobody in the complex saw me in the hospital. Showing up thinner, in a walker, definitely made an impact.

Now it’s just a battle of, “What it…” and though it’s a game I don’t want to play, the reality is that it’s a game I’m forced to consider from time to time.

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Scared, Sick, Tired

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