I am singing the blues this morning. While I suppose it’s good news that my ultrasound and my HIDA scan all came back with no negative results, that leaves me with no answers as to what’s wrong with my guts or how to get better.
I’m now going on four and a half months of almost constant stomach aches of various intensities, depletion of energy, rapid weight loss, and random muscle spasm attacks in my abdomen (think “Charlie horses” only in your abdomen) that leave me breathless, shaking, and unable to move for a few minutes. (So far, these have only happened at home. I dread the day that one happens while I’m driving, or I’m at work, or out anywhere in public.)
The earliest appointment I could get to see someone at my gastroenterologist’s office is at the end of August, although I explained what was going on, to my doctor’s nurse, last night over the phone, and she is going to get all the information to him in case there is some other testing he can schedule, or medicine he can prescribe, prior to my August appointment, or maybe even get me in sooner.
The physical challenges that come from being uncomfortable, unable to eat a decent meal, (my diet consists mostly of liquids, including ensure, muscle milk, soup, applesauce, bouillon, V-8, eggs and the occasional piece of fish) and being tired all the time are taking their emotional toll, as well. My patience has worn thin, I’m constantly irritable, I’m having trouble focusing, and I’m feeling a bit hopeless about the situation. While I know it will get resolved at some point, I still have to function in the real world, in the meantime, feeling this way all the time. Work was already extremely stressful and challenging, and it’s 10 times harder when I don’t have the emotional or physical strength to deal with all the crap that goes on there.
As always, Jeffrey has been an exemplary caretaker, taking over the bulk of errands and tasks around the house so that I can rest up every night for the next day, but my guilt and sense of obligation as an equal partner in our household drive me to keep trying to do more than I feel like I can so that he doesn’t have to shoulder the burden of having to do absolutely everything, especially since I have a chronic illness and he’s had to play the role of “Mr. Do Everything” so many times before, and probably will have to do again in the future.
Finally, I stress about all the plans we’ve made and whether I’m going to be well enough to go through with them, let alone enjoy them.
While I really do try to keep a stiff upper lip, take it a day at a time, and remain optimistic and hopeful that things will get better soon, it grows harder each day to push myself forward to do what I need to do, and try to do it with a smile on my face, or at least avoid taking it out on the people around me at work and home.
Oh well. It is what it is. This too, shall pass, someday. Thanks for indulging me as I let it all out.