Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Saw the Rheumatologist

So, I go to my eye doctor for dry eyes. I am just expecting some drops and for him to send me home. But, I was wrong. Instead he sent me for blood work and those tests turned against me. I have Sjogren's which is an autoimmune disease. I guess it's doing a pretty nasty number on me. And, he was concerned about my ANA test result as being the "highest he's ever seen in all his years of practice." I would guess him to be in his forties since he has two teen-age daughters. He's not a doctor newbie. He's having that lab re-done along with several others. He is expecting me to have lupus along with the Sjogren's but I am praying hard, along with lots of other people, that I just have Sjogren's. Oh, there were some other lovely things that he mentioned which I have, too. But, I didn't see them as threatening.

He's starting me on lots of drugs. Honestly, sometimes I think that I am God's step-daughter who He doesn't particularly like at times. First of all, I am afraid of the eye doctor and I have been having to go every week and one week twice and have stuff done to my eyes because of the severe damage. I truly dislike taking pills. So, now I am going to be taking mega amounts of drugs whose side effects include getting fat, hair loss, nausea, mouth ulcers, and drug induced insanity.

The doc told Mark to watch me closely because I am on such a high dose of prednisone that I may not be able to handle it. If I get "too crazy" (not sure how my poor husband will determine that...) he's to take the prednisone away from me and immediately call the doctor. If the test for lupus comes back positive, he will be adding chemo in a pill form.

I am not a happy camper but I am trying to keep it together - exactly what the "it" is I am not sure. I guess "it" would include my faith, my hope, and my eyes on Christ. I have been having a pretty big pity party for me today and honestly, if I could cry... I would just like to sit and cry for a couple of hours. But, I can't cry, instead my eyes just fill up with mucus that sits on my cornea causing more damage. I can't even seek the comfort of tears.

Mark and my sons have been amazing. I have a kind loving family. I recognize that blessing of these three men in my life. But, my heart has been thinking of Christi and Bobby and wondering if I'll ever get to see them, talk to them, hold them in this life.

When I was at the doctor's office yesterday, I had to write down the names of closest of kin not living at home. I wrote down Michael because he's living on campus and then stared at the second space. The space where I should have been able to write Sherry, Patti, Christi, or Bobby suddenly became a huge open wound on that paper.

I wanted to scream a prayer to God right at that moment and beg Him to heal their hearts or minds or whatever and allow them to be part of my life again. But, I didn't do that. I just sat there looking at that gapping wound on that paper. As I was mourning my sisters, God gently said, "Write down Lauri. She's your sister. I gave her to you." So, I did. In the line where is said relationship, I wrote like my sister.

On the drive home, I was pretty quiet. I told Mark that I questioned why God had let me be born. My parents never loved me. They were disappointed that I wasn't their son. I spent many years of my life trying to earn their love. That was rewarded by their stealing my children and destroying my relationship with my precious sisters, too. We are struggling financially due to job loss and pay cuts. And, now... this. I said all of this out loud. I guess I was breaking the silence. Without hesitating, that sweet godly man, took my hand and said, "You were born for me. God gave you to me. You, not our children, have brought me more joy than I ever thought possible. Debbie, without you I would have been lost."

My heart just about broke. My family has tried to destroy this man and he still counts himself blessed to be married to me. His words humbled me.

Paul went out today and bought me Smart Water. He didn't tell me. I went into my room and there was a huge bottle sitting in my bedroom. I went to his hallway and asked him if he had bought me the water. He said yes. I called him to me and hugged my son and told him that I loved him. He told me that he knew. Then, I added that he shouldn't do things that make me cry these awful mucus tears. He replied, "Mom, it's just water." But, see it wasn't just water. He knows that I love Smart Water. I love the way it feels in my mouth - so smooth. I love the way it taste. He knows his mom. Sometimes, he acts so self-absorbed that I am amazed when I see him so caring. God keeps giving me glimpses of the man this eighteen-year-old is becoming. I am so grateful. He has been wonderful to his momma through all this ugly medical stuff.

I am rambling. I should be writing a 15 page research paper which is due Friday week and I can't get my brain to wrap around it. Instead, I am writing this pitiful post and sharing my fears and joys with whatever poor person reads this blog.

If you have a moment and you believe in the power of prayer, I covet your prayers of healing.

In the meantime, I am going to try to "keep it together."


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