Hi Everyone, Happy holidays! Here’s the turkey we ate for thanksgiving.
Jealous? Ya. Chocolate rice crispy turkey. BOOM.
This turkey had the same effect that most do.
Isn’t he cute? That’s my dad.
My mom and I took to day drinking.
Its been a good holiday so far. Much to be thankful for, despite the obvious life deterring health issues. But every time the pain becomes too much, I just tell myself this.
You can do this. It’s my mantra. It’s my tiny sliver of strength to get me to keep moving. To get up, to push forward. To not give up, when everything in my being is begging me too. Things are worse now than they have ever been. Nausea has crippled me for weeks, on top of all my other worsening symptoms. It’s why I haven’t baked or cooked a thing in a month. The smell of almost everything sets me off. But I can do this. Yes. Sure.
I can do this. Even though I can’t. Even though me “doing this” looks like me sleeping 16 hours a day, waking up in so much pain I walk like an 80 year old. Getting nauseous, feeling everything I eat come back up a few minutes later. It looks like being told no by doctors and yes by no one. It’s me going to work because I have to and smiling because I need to and thinking to myself ever single minute of every single day that I’d rather be dead than live my entire life in this much pain. I’m not doing this. God is. Me doing this is leaning entirely on God and him dragging me through this AWFUL illness. And we will do this. I believe it. I will survive this. Because when I have nothing left, he pulls me through. But honestly? I’m totally pissed off about it. I don’t WANT to do this. It sucks.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my life. I am SOO blessed. I just hate my body. Because it takes all the joy I have in my life and covers it up with pain. It blinds you. It takes away your ability to appreciate the things around you. To laugh, and have fun.
It’s like this. If you chop off your leg and then immediately go on your dream vacation with your favorite people, you’re not going to have fun if you have a painful bleeding stump dragging you down. Your entire trip will be tainted in the pain of your flesh. Your focus would be pulled. Even as you’re trying to focus on the good, you are reminded that you could enjoy that good so much more if the pain could just stop. All you want to do is hide from everything and pass out. Make it stop. And even if you can’t, it’s easier to fight the pain alone than to fight the pain and fight to appear normal when you’re not to all of those around you. You don’t want them to see. You don’t want to ruin everyone’s vacation with your stupid chopped off leg stump.
My doctor told me once again today that he believes I have MS. Who the hell really knows anything though? I’ve been back and forth between diagnosis’ so many times I could become a doctor myself by now. Granted, not a very good one. But it’s not like there is a lot of those out there right now anyway. So I’d fit right in.
But I’ve found this man. This man who actually believes he can help me.
That has never happened to me. It took me years to convince doctors it wasn’t all in my head, much less have them actually believe that whatever I have can be helped. This man tests you at your cellular level for abnormalities in your genetic makeup. He made it sound almost simple. Like when you lose your keys and you look everywhere over and over, turning the house upside down only to find out they were in plain sight on the key ring behind another set of keys. He say’s it’s like the doctors are so busy looking for the keys on the surface that it doesn’t even occur to them to look behind what’s in plain sight. They do what they are taught. They diagnose what they can, and they put a band-aid on it. There is no fixing. They just drug you. Because it’s what they are taught. But they never look beyond your symptoms. They don’t look for the root source of the problem. And this guy does.
The problem was that he doesn’t take insurance, but, because I am SO BLESSED and so lucky, my beautiful friends and family have been donating money to my gofundme account to help me pay for this doctor to help me. I’m excited to keep you all updated on how this all works out. I will be singing his praises if this works, and giving you his info, and you’ll be here with me during the whole process. I hope it does work, because if he can help me, that means he can maybe help you too. He can maybe help my brother with Chrones, or my friend Erica who spends her life in pain with no diagnosis. Or my friend with Cancer? Maybe this is the key? Maybe we aren’t searching in the right place for the key to our health. Maybe we are forgetting to look under the key on top to even notice there is one hiding underneath it. I hope this works as much for you as it does for me.
The first step of this process is cutting off a chunk of my hair to send to him, (sounds creepy, I know) so that he can run a nutritional analysis on it. I just finished with it and sent it off in the mail and I can feel this little place on the back of my head now where the hair was chopped. Feels like the bristles of an old broom. 😛 But I kid you not I would shave off every bit of hair on my entire body to get an answer. Although I doubt anyone would want to receive all of my body hair in the mail. Well anyway, here is the video of that exciting moment.
For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. And its terrifying. But I am so thankful for it. And so thankful to all of you who have supported me through the hardest decade of my life. Love you.