In approximately one hour, my parents and I will be on the road.
Are we going away to some exotic location for some good old-fashioned RNR?
Are we taking some time to make beautiful memories with relatives?
Are we spending the day at a museum, adsorbing knowledge in stimulating exhibits?
Not even close.
So what are we doing? Well, we are taking a 2 hour car trip down to the children’s hospital – a place that is becoming all to familiar to me.
As you guys know, I have been having health problems and despite all these doctor appointments, no one can seem to figure out why my body is pulling these cruel tricks on me. With each passing day, I feel like I am fighting my body more and more. Though I beg of it to allow me to run around, play, and enjoy these short months of freedom from the cold halls of my high school, my body refuses to listen. On top of the bone pain and nausea I have been experiencing, I am now becoming short of breath and have been sleeping most of the day. Even though I feel so physically ill, I am beginning to doubt myself more and more. There is not a moment that goes by when I wonder if I am going crazy and all the symptoms I have been experiencing are the result of some psychological ailment – like a conversion disorder – instead of a true physical one. Many of my blood tests are extremely abnormal so I guess that should reassure me that I am not “loonie bin” worthy. but every time I walk out of the hospital without a diagnosis I have to wonder if it is my mind, not my body, that is destroying my health.
Last time I went to the hospital, I was given prednisone. The rheumatologist who prescribed it hoped that it would decrease my sky high muscle enzymes and bone pain as well as increase my red blood cell and white blood cell count. After 10 days on the medication and dealing with its myriad of side effects, my blood was drawn and fortunately my counts looked much better. I also was starting to feel a lot better as well. The pain had subsided and I was feeling more like the Claire I once was. Unfortunately, these benefits were short lived. Slowly but surely the symptoms and signs began to return despite the fact I am still taking prednisone. My mom told me I should tell the doctor this, but I am very scared to do so. I know that sounds stupid, but I fear that if I tell him the truth, he will think I am a nut case and send me on over to psych or even worse – refuse to help me at all.
Well, that’s pretty much all I have to say. I will make sure to update everyone on the hospital visit after it’s done and over with.