I have a confession. And quite frankly, it’s not something I talk about very often. I have health problems. Not as many as I used to, thank goodness. But it’s still a problem. On one hand, I’m lucky. It could be a LOT worse. But that doesn’t diminish what I do have to deal with on a regular basis. And believe me, I wish it could. I spent 2 years on pain medication, laying in bed in a chemical induced fog, until I had enough and took my life back. Now I just deal with it. Some days are better than others.
I don’t go to doctors like I should. Why? Well – after losing Ben, let’s just say my faith in the medical industry isn’t what it used to be. And when all you hear from the doctors and specialists is that they don’t really know, or there is no cure, and that they’re learning with you… it doesn’t exactly make that confidence level grow. I self treat most of the time. And I’ve learned my body enough that I understand most of the time what it needs or wants.
I have a pituitary gland problem. The gland is responsible for governing a lot of bodily functions and systems. Hormones, kidneys, a lot of things. Because of my pituitary gland problem… I’ve had 6 kidney infections in the last year alone. I have spent more time in the last 12 months on antibiotics than off. Because of my kidney, I’ve also fought some pretty annoying swelling in my leg or ankle. I’m not a foot person – but there’s nothing I hate more than having a swollen ballooned out foot. A girl just wants to have pretty feet dang it. Thankfully it doesn’t happen ALL the time. I’m in a nice stage of remission on that right now that I’m hoping will stick around.
I have a bad hip. Let’s just say that when I gave birth to my last son, he came flying out while my lower body was IN THE AIR. I had my feet up on some poor nurse’s shoulders, the doctor was down the hall sprinting as fast as he could to get to my room and out he came. My hip was severely damaged from this. Most of the time, you’d never know. I don’t walk with a limp or anything like that. But occasionally – my hip will pop out of place and I can’t move. Oh the joy.
I have a weaker heart. I’m on meds for this. It is what it is… but stress can bring on some of the craziest palpitations or pain or just exhaustion. I’m pretty good at hiding it, but occasionally, someone will catch on that I’m not “well”.
I have a skin disorder. It is incurable and eventually could be debilitating. It may or may not be linked to my pituitary gland. I was told I’d be in a wheelchair in 5 years – that was 9 years ago. Fuck THAT! This girl will NEVER succumb to a wheelchair. Or a cane. And so far – that streak of stubbornness is not budging. 🙂 There are very few treatments that work on this disorder. What’s irritating to me about this particular one is that the docs don’t know a lot about it – other than the fact that it’s not contagious. Some people do things like skin grafts and such – but the success rate is low on them. A very honest specialist once confessed to me that with this particular disorder – treatment is all an experiment. I’ve taken that cue and experiment on myself. Documenting my treatments as I go. My docs are always surprised when they see the progress I’ve made. Who knows – maybe I’ll singlehandedly find the cure on my own.
So why am I confessing all of this? Because I hate it. Because I want people to understand what I go through, how much of my own inner battles I hide and ignore. I know I can’t continue to be super woman strong forever. But at the same time, I don’t want to be treated differently for it. I don’t want to be asked if I’m ok all the time, hell – the last thing I want is to call attention to the fact that I’m not exactly normal. BUT – I also want a little understanding and patience from folks when I’m just not feeling 100%. What I don’t want – is to feel self conscious about it anymore.
I’ve worked hard this last year to get my health on a better track. Losing weight, making wiser food choices, vitamins, exercise, quitting bad habits, reducing stress. All of it has had a GREAT impact on my overall progress, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still have these issues, and that these issues aren’t going to go away. I look at myself and see all the flaws, the problems, the imperfections. How can I possibly expect someone else to see me as beautiful when I’m not? When my body acts like it’s falling apart? I’m young, I’ve got a lot of spunk and spirit and energy… but what happens when that all goes away? Who the hell is going to want me then?
Just some random thoughts for you.