I sit here slowly. I'm too tired to sit up but too sore to lie down. It started most likely almost twenty years ago, but it's been explained away more times than I can count. I've been told I'm out of shape, not eating well, lazy, lying, just depressed, and "it's probably the diabetes". Anytime they couldn't find another excuse diabetes and depression became the scapegoats for anything wrong with me. An ex boyfriend of mine once proclaimed, "it's always something with you, isn't it?" He thought I was an over exaggerating hypochondriac. No, I just have a malfunctioning immune system. Thanks for being supportive.
This summer it worsened. It started at work. Suddenly I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and my legs started to weaken. My blood sugar wasn't low, but I hadn't been sleeping well. I leaned against the counter, afraid someone would see me sitting and get me in trouble. After all, it was probably my fault for not sleeping as much as I should have been. Over the next few days I lost my ability to walk at least once a day. Ryan found me on my face on the floor one day and had to help me get back on the bed. The night I lost most of my muscle control and started bleeding profusely we decided I was going to the ER. They triaged me, ran some tests, and concluded that I was healthy. They advised me not to skip meals and to get plenty of sleep from now on and sent me home. Slightly defeated, I made a doctor appointment and the marathon of tests began. Since then they've done urine cultures, blood cultures, and scans. They've tested for everything from Lyme to Lupus, AIDS, lymphomas, autoimmune disorders, and cancer. The symptoms worsened, and the more negative test results that came back the more depressed and daunted I felt. My anger control disappeared, and Ryan and I started having violent, often physical, fights. I started to scream at him and hit him for no reason, and once he had to hold me to the floor to stop me from hurting myself. With the possibility of my marriage ending and it being all my fault, the depression worsened. I started cutting again and crying for no reason. I've withdrawn a lot in fear of getting frustrated an losing my temper. I almost lost my job, and I'm still not out of the water there yet. I get constant shit at work about LWOP'ing out and "not wanting to work." Mr Self-Righteous Ex himself felt the need to anonymously criticize my "poor work ethic". Still...no answers.
Until the other day.
My cortisol level is over five times what it should be, leading all the symptoms to point to Cushing's Disease. They're not sure what the cause is yet, so there are steps still before the treatments. I'm ok with the idea of it. It explains a lot about my health for most of my life...why my hair falls out, why my tailbone broke so easily and refused to heal last winter, why I've never held a healthy pregnancy or had a normal cycle, why I bruise so easily, why everything that touches me hurts, why I'm ALWAYS sick or infected, depression, diabetes, insulin resistance, weight gain no matter what I do to lose it, an average heart rate of 120 or more, constant exhaustion and muscle weakness, anxiety, and so many more small ailments that have always been explained away because I've been "weak and oversensitive".
So I sit contemplating my demon...the possibility of chemotherapy, surgery on my pituitary or adrenal gland or my lungs, and the fact that it returns in 2% of adults treated for it. The hardest to swallow is the possibility that it either has or could render me infertile. There it is. I can face death. I have. I can face being sick. I have. Such a tiny little tumor has managed to hunt and pin down my deepest fear, the one thing I have refused to compromise my entire life. Since the last miscarriage I've had a nagging fear that I may never be able to carry a healthy child. The blighted ovum planted the infertility fears in my head. This demon makes that fear even more of an approaching reality. With this contemplation comes a surreal thought I haven't fully comprehended yet. The idea that in the end I may be healthier than I have been since I was a small child. I can't even fathom what that kind of health feels like. I don't expect it all to vanish instantly, and some of the damage cannot be reversed. Still, the idea that any of it wil go away...it's amazing now when I have a rare "good day", but the possibility of living a normal life..not even again, but for once...is absolutely indescribable.

So, with slight trepidation but also an imperative sense of optimism I enter this next step...finding the source and removing the demon. I have a lot of tests, struggles, and days where I'll feel like a slow, torturous death would be a blessing ahead of me, but I can't give up. I have to keep my faith, my will, and my patience intact. With my ever loving and supportive husband and my dearest friends at my side when I start to weaken, I know I can get through this. It won't be easy, but in the end imagine how much I will sparkle. Imagine how much stronger I will be for having fought the battle. I have always been a warrior. I have always been not just a survivor but someone who lives. This. Will. Not. Defeat. Me.

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