Day 21: Insane in the membrane #NHBPM

Today, I get to write about mental health… which is something that I struggle with definitely.

Most families are dysfunctional and mine even more so. There is a lot of undiagnosed and untreated mental illness floating around I think and that’s not so fun.

Understandably, growing up with a chronic illness tends to warp minds a bit. I recently read a book about fibromyalgia and found this quote that, I think, describes very accurately children dealing with chronic illness of any kinds:

Claudia Marek, author of The First Year – Fibromyalgia, interviewed a group of children and was amazed to discover 50 percent of her interviewees thought everyone they knew had pain but that other children were simply braver and better at coping with it than they were. Consequently, they were unwilling to verbalize their distress to others. In fact, for many children with FM, the pain they experience is “normal” to them. Since they have not experienced life without the disorder, they cannot distinguish their symptoms as unusual. (14)

See what I mean? I always talk about how thankful I am to have been ill from such a young age, but it’s not like it’s a picnic either. I very much thought that pain was normal and that everyone else just did better with it – even when I knew that wasn’t the case, that is how it always felt to me. And it has always been tremendously difficult to explain what is going on with my body, even when I know the technical terms. Hooray for not being crazy!

Even so, there are enormous feelings of inadequacy, of horrible loneliness, of impending doom at the things I know could be just around the corner for me. I have a lot of frustrations and questions – Why do I have this? Why won’t it go away? How much worse will it get? How much longer do I have before it gets to the point where I can’t do anything anymore? When will I have to apply for SSI? Who will stick around to watch me get worse? The list goes on and on.

Basically, the soundtrack to Rent is constantly playing in my head.

Understandably, a lot of people dealing with chronic illness deal with depression. Much of it is due to fearing the future and missing the past you, the person who was ‘whole’ and could do things. Children with Still’s have a higher incidence of depression than children with other arthritis types because it is so hard on the body and the mind.

Thinking about it, I probably have been dealing with depression since about 6 or 7. I didn’t know how to put it into words, but between Still’s and sexual abuse I had a lot going on. From how everyone treated me being so sick, I figured I would die pretty much being a young kid and that was always tough. Even now, I sit here at 24 years old looking at my engagement ring with a mixture of joy and sorrow – part of me still feels that somehow, for some reason, I won’t make it to that day.

The first time I thought about committing suicide I was probably 8. And it constantly popped up throughout the rest of my life to today… not today literally but figuratively. And a lot of people don’t get why for some reason.

In the June or July of this year, I had my first appointment ever with a therapist. He listens mostly, but is trying to help me sort out all of my anger and my frustrations. Obviously as you can see, there is a lot going on.

It is incredibly important to make a mental health professional a part of your medical team. Even if you don’t see that person very often, having someone to talk to that isn’t a part of a situation – and that you know isn’t going to gossip about it to the rest of your family or friends or tell the person your frustrations deal with about it – well, that’s pretty priceless in my book.

#Rheum Blues

Oy.

The last month being back on Enbrel is tricky for me. I have torn feelings for sure. I mean, my swelling has gone down and this is clearly awesome. I enjoy being able to move joints. But I’m still in a huge amount of pain.

I have an appointment on Monday afternoon with my rheumy’s nurse practitioner to evaluate if this pain is a flare up of my Still’s or if it is instead myofascial pain or fibromyalgia or something else.

First off, I’ve had Still’s for 19 years (well, in a month) and I have never had a flare up without intense swelling. I just haven’t. And right now, I’m not experiencing that at all… with the exception of my bum left knee which, let’s face it, swells no matter what I do.

But now I’m torn. Is this just fibro? Is is MS and I just don’t want to know so I ignore the signs? Is it something worse? Am I turning into an elephant?

UGH.

I try to act like I’m okay and just push through like I’ve always done, but Sunday was the last straw… because I missed Missy’s blessing.

I knew when I woke up that the day was going to be trouble but not wanting to disappoint family or incur the fire of a thousand suns, I got dressed up anyway. I also really wanted to be there. I love this kid.

While we were at the church and waiting for family, my body started getting worse and worse. My fatigue kept dragging me between the living world and purgatory and I was in so much pain. It was all over. My hands were the worst but my hips, my neck, my ankles – everything ached. I just couldn’t do it. It took a lot of coaxing and reassurance from the boyfriend before I felt okay to say that I needed to go home. Even then, on the ride home I was so mad at myself. I kept going between sleeping and crying the hardest I have done in a long, long time. And the day was just so shitty. Wah.

My illness and I have grown up together. We give nods to each other when the other is in control, letting us know that we are around still and not to get too comfy. I have always pushed myself to keep going – run that last mile, climb that last step, dance that last dance. Stopping grad school was hard enough, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to stay sane and healthier. I thought that it would really help.

But I just keep getting sicker. And now it’s starting to negatively impact the role that I will have in my niece’s life. I want so much to be there for her – to help provide some things she might not get otherwise like auntie dates to go see new movies or stopping for ice cream on the way home without telling mommy (tee hee). I want to push her to excel, to show her that no matter what she can do anything and nothing can hold her back. I want to be a role model for her.

But how can I do that if I’m not there because I’m held back by this illness? How can we stop for ice cream if I can’t drive anymore cause it hurts too much?

I’m so tired of fighting myself all the time. My body just needs to figure its shit out already for cricket’s sake. But it won’t and I know that. It’s just hard to let other people see how bad things are getting for me. I don’t want to be the center of attention and I shouldn’t be. That’s not my life and I don’t want it to be. I want to just be treated like a normal person.

I can’t just be in constant pain anymore. I can’t take it. I need a break.

On a related note: half of one of my nine remaining oxy-whatevers plus an extra dose of etodolac on a full stomach makes me not throw up and also helped me to forget about pain for a while tonight. It was still there sure, but I didn’t notice as much and I so needed that break.

Also, had a kick-ass appt with my OT today on my hands. My hands are covered in bright blue kinesio tape! And she might even use me as a case study presentation thingy. Sweeeet.

Lost

It’s how I feel. I should have been graduating with my master’s this year. In reality, that wouldn’t have happened cause I didn’t have enough Arabic under my belt and it would’ve taken 4, but most people get those done in 2 years. I should have graduated, should have gotten a kick ass job. Instead, I play games on my computer when I’m not at work and not playing ukulele. Instead, I research and read medical shit like my malfunctioning brain will find a cure that experts have missed, hoping against all odds that I’ll magically find a cure for all this shit that is arthritis.

If I was okay with all this, it’d sound a lot like a John Lennon song. I thought I was okay with it, I really did. I mean, I just tried out to be on Jeopardy. Clearly I’m smart… but I feel like I’m not using my smartness and it’s starting to fade away, never to be heard from in short bursts again. It’s been like this since I came back from Chicago. Yay, I can recite meaningless trivia. But what am I actually doing?

Other people my age (and younger, oh heavens) are well on their way to career-dom, to further schooling, to a big house with a 2-car garage, 2.5 kids, a pool and a dog. And I… I’m just sitting here half-assedly watching a baseball game and commenting on the newly changed facial hair of one of my favorite players. Is this how it’s going to be forever? Am I going to feel like I do nothing ad infinitum? If so, shouldn’t I be happy with that? I’ve pushed and pushed myself so hard for so long, shouldn’t I feel like I need a break? Like I deserve one? Should I be like Ron Livingston in Office Space and just not give a fuck anymore?

I just dunno.

I know I do things. Clearly, I do things. Every weekend this month has been full of doing things, of WAAD and Chicago, of walking for arthritis and hitting up the Enbrel pusher, of vomiting from migraines and seeing friends. I pre-write blog posts and don’t post them. I should be raising more money, raising more awareness, doing something more meaningful and helpful for the population at large.

In happier news, I went running twice this weekend. The bursts didn’t last long, but I did it. I ran. And I didn’t feel like death afterwards. Yesterday I ran for over a minute straight and could have kept going if it were not for my damn chubby thighs meeting each other unpleasantly. Maybe working out more can make its way into my busy schedule of the House MD game on facebook and ukulele chords. Maybe then I can feel a little more like I’m doing something.

I probably won’t though. Sigh.

Someone, anyone – light a fire under my ass and get me going?

So lame

Welcome to a day with a huge number on the pain scale.

Felt sick last night. Had to do Humira and that didn’t help.

Today, could barely walk in the morning and rocked my cane at work, which was not easy. Hands hurt like crazy. Thinking it’s fibro and will keep track. Now ankles are hurting. Right now, at an 8 on the pain scale.

Fucking sucks.

RA Blues… Again

I had a really hard day yesterday. I woke up with my back hurting and feeling like hell. I wish I could say that sleep gives a reprieve from pain, but often my dreams involve similar pain – probably my body responding to the physical pain I’m in. Last night, for example, I dreamed that I was a Starfleet officer fighting the Maquis when interstellar zombies attacked. Yeah, I got hurt… a lot.

But yesterday, not only was I physically in a ton of pain but I also came to the realization that, in all likelihood, this will be the only kind of life that I ever know. And that is the worst kind of pain to deal with.

I’m not usually one for feeling sorry for myself, but we all have our days I’m sure. My self-pity turned into freaking out over my upcoming move and projecting my fears onto the boyfriend. I don’t feel like it’s fair that he has to deal with my shitty body and how it just decides to act. But in talking about it with him, I think I feel better about it.

He said, “It’s not fair to assume I don’t want to ‘deal with’ it.”

I still have a lot to learn about what it is like to be on the outside of my disease. Just like people who will never understand what it’s like to be sick, many of us I think will never really get what it’s like to be ‘normal.’ If I ever had the option, I would choose to not deal with RA. So I guess I just always have assumed that people dealing with it – that it’s just to put up with X because of Y before getting annoyed/tired/frustrated and moving on to something better.

Maybe ‘normal’ is just a term used to marginalize everyone who doesn’t have special circumstances… except that we all kind of do. So what’s the point of the label?