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Life in the middle pt. 1: Dread

August 6, 2011

I said I would write about what it’s like being stuck between two illnesses with no diagnosis. So here it is.

It sucks more than you can imagine. The end.


Honestly, that’s all I really want to write about it. I’m more emotional than normal right now (the joys of being female) and I’m feeling really worn out from being sick, from waiting for tests, waiting for diagnosis, waiting for treatment, waiting for fucking everything. I’m frustrated with doctors, family, friends, people in support groups, myself, and just life in general. My hands aren’t working so well today (more shaking than yesterday) and judging by all the screwed up typos my mind isn’t working as well as I thought it was. Everything is pissing me off today, it’s just one of those days where nothing goes right. Nothing has gone massively wrong today, just a long string of tiny things that are making my mood worse. Stupid little things that shouldn’t bother me; making a cup of coffee to find I’ve run out of cream, struggling to open clothes pins, constantly clicking on the wrong things or hitting the wrong keys because my hands won’t listen to my brain, constantly dropping utensils while trying to wash the dishes. I know logically that none of those things are massive failures, they’re just little things that require a little bit more effort to finish or some sort of compromise (like using milk instead of cream for my coffee). Every single little thing like that though feels like a crushing defeat today. I know this will pass; it’s just a bad combination of some health problems that make some tasks difficult, pent up frustration, and being all hormonal (I don’t cry over movies and such, yet I got misty eyed over a freakin commercial last night for crying out loud).

I’ve been pushing off writing this entry for a long time. I’ve dreaded writing this entry more than any other. I’ve written about sexual dysfunction, incontinence, being in my mid-twenties yet having the episodes with the memory of an Alzheimer’s patient, struggling to take a shower on my own, depression, and other fairly embarassing things. But I dread this one more than all of those things combined. Why? A combination of things I suppose. I try not to dwell on my situation because I just don’t want to think about the possible outcomes. I don’t want to think about the reactions other people have to my situation. I don’t want to think about how much worse I could get before I finally get a diagnosis (if I ever get one), and I don’t want to think about which symptoms may become permanent. I don’t want to recognize that I won’t be able to attain some of my goals because of my health.

I try to keep everything in perspective. When I start feeling all “woe is me” I think about some of the patients I’ve had and how badly they suffered. I think about their families and how they each handled having a loved one being ill and how they must have felt about it. It helps give me a bit of peace of mind and pushes me on to do some of the things I do (like the nursing course, and a few other things I’m working on like apps and whatnot to help patients with medication compliance). It has a negative effect too though; it makes me push down all the negative things I’m feeling about this. I’ve done that too many times, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore. It’s going to take a few tries to get all this out, and there’s a lot to talk about, so this is going to require multiple entries. I’ll try to keep things somewhat organized just so I don’t end up repeating myself over and over, but I can’t promise anything.


From → Journal

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