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Being so open with my illness has certainly brought me many blessings.  I’ve had so much vital support especially during difficult times from the people that read this blog.  Sometimes just reading caring comments from people left here have made the world of difference in my ability to get through the day.  My friends and family also have been better able to know what’s going on with me and stay in the loop, so that they can better understand and support me.  I’ve been able to help others by sharing my story and helping people who are going through similar situations not feel so alone.  And I’ve had an outlet for catharsis for myself.

There have also been some downsides.  Sometimes I get unkind and unwelcome comments left here.  Being so open about my illness opens me up to everyone’s opinion on the matter.  I also sometimes have to be careful of what I say because I know that a person I care about in my life will read what I write and I don’t want to hurt them.

But lately I’ve been working really hard to get myself off disability by starting a career in Transmedia.  I went to ARGFest, a conference for Transmedia and Alternate Reality Games, a few weeks ago where I networked and learned a great deal from the panels and speakers.  I had a blast and came back energized to continue pursuing this as a career.  But while I was there I discovered that a lot of people follow my blog, and I started to wonder how that might negatively effect my chances of succeeding in that industry.  Would people not hire me because they had read my blog and knew I was ill?

So that leaves me in sort of a quandary.  This blog is a big part of my life, but I don’t want to give it up, but I also don’t want to sabotage my own career.  So what do you think?  How has being open with your illness been a positive or negative experience for you?  How has it affected your career?  Please leave me a note in the comments!

Here are some photos from my trip to Atlanta, Georgia for ARGFest!

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Post tags: ARGFest, Baptized, blessing, blog, Busy, caregiver, Christianity, Chronic, Chronic Illness, Church, church of jesus christ, church of jesus christ of latter day saints, clear liquids, Conference, energy, feeding tube, games, hope, hospital, illness, jesus christ of latter day saints, Latter Day Saints, LDS, life, living my life, pain, patient, picc line, Religion and Spirituality, walk, walker, WALKING

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When I was a very young girl a fear of guns ruled my life.  I was afraid of being shot wherever I went.  I never wanted to leave the house for fear of being gunned down.  I was especially afraid of going to McDonald’s because I had overheard on the news that a little girl was shot and killed at one.  But even as a 5 year old, I knew that my fear was irrational, and kept it a secret.  I eventually conquered my fear years later when I was forced to participate in riflery at sleep-away camp.  Afterward, I vowed I’d never let a fear rule my life again.

But fear still creeps up now and again.  And it has certainly crept up today.

Today my doctor told me that he is concerned that if we don’t stop and reverse whatever is wrong with my liver, I will end up in liver failure.  My declining liver function may be a result of either Autoimmune Pancreatitis or Autoimmune Hepatitis or both or something else entirely.

I am, frankly, terrified.  But I refuse to let my fear rule me.  As a child I was so embarrassed of my fear that I suffered in secret silence.  But today I reached out and told all my friends the news and let them be there for me.  They more than rose to the occasion, and I am so grateful for them.  And now I am blogging it out.  Sometimes it makes it feel so much better to get it all written down.

I may still be afraid, but it doesn’t control me.  I can use coping mechanisms like these to control it instead.

Image by Jody Art via Flickr

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Fear that I will end up back in the hospital.

Fear and OCD are a bad combination.  It’s bad enough to have a fearful thought in your head, but with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder you just can’t forget it.

I was woken by pain on Monday morning at 6am.  I felt like I was being stabbed in my left lower back and side.  An all too familiar pain.  The pain of a kidney infection.  AGAIN.  I’ve had far too many kidney infections the last few years.  Several of them have resulted in extended hospitalizations of a month or longer.  So to feel this familiar pain filled me with dread.

That is how the fear started.

I called my doctor as soon as the office opened.  He opted to put me right on antibiotics over the phone.  The first day was truly miserable.  I was in so much pain and my breakthrough pain meds were barely taking the edge off.  Yesterday I seemed to be feeling a tiny bit better.  But today I spiked a fever.

Not good.

Now the fear was escalating.  This infection was not heading in the right direction.  Instead it was following the well worn path that leads to the hospital.

I called my doctor who had me go get a urinalysis done to see where the infection is at.  I’ll get the result tomorrow.  The culture won’t be back though for a few days.

Now I wait and try not to let the fear take over.  But my thoughts are wanting to spiral out of control.

Kidney infection leads to hospital.

Hospital leads to latex exposure.

Latex exposure leads to anaphalaxsis.

Anaphalaxsis leads to another stay in the ICU.

Not fun.

Not fun at all.

Mental illness can sure make it more difficult to deal with a chronic illness.  But I’m trying to calm my thoughts.  Trying to channel my OCD into other happier obsessions.  But really I just want to cry because, though I try, sometimes I just can’t put a happy spin on life with a chronic illness.  Sometimes it’s not inspiring or uplifting.  Sometimes there’s no bigger picture.  Sometimes there’s no underlying lesson to be learned.  Sometimes it just sucks.

Sometimes I’m not a novel patient.  Sometimes I’m just a scared girl who doesn’t want to end up back in the hospital for the umpteenth time.

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Before I was in a wheelchair and now a walker, my illness was pretty invisible.  Though there are many downsides to invisible illness, one thing I did appreciate was that it gave me a choice of how much I wanted to share if anything about my illness.  If I wanted, I could mostly hide my symptoms, and no one had to know.  But my wheelchair became a physical sign of my illness and suddenly everyone, everywhere I went, instantly knew something was wrong.  And the big question that lingered in the air was “WHAT?”

I have always been a very open person.  Though like everyone I want to be accepted, I really don’t fear rejection.  Or at least I’d rather be rejected up front by someone I just met than a close friend far down the line.  So my policy about my illness has always been to share as much as the person I’m talking to in curious to know.  And the interesting thing has been that this has brought many blessings in itself.  When I share about my illness honestly and openly, I generally find that people respond with genuine empathy.

Sharing so openly has also given me the opportunity to help many people.  There are so many people out there going through similar experiences to me themselves or have a loved one or friend who is going through something similar.  I find that when I follow my intuition and share I find I’m speaking to someone who can benefit from what I have to say.

People are usually dying to ask me why I’m in a wheelchair or using a walker, but are afraid of being rude.  So I’ll steer the conversation that direction and put them out of their misery.  In this fashion, I often find myself sharing about my various illnesses with people I just met.  Sometimes I share the story of my physical illness and sometimes I share my struggle with mental illness.

Sometimes sharing doesn’t go very well.  Though most people are supportive and understanding, there will always be the ones who are judgmental or want to tell me what to do.  Either way I never regret sharing about my illnesses.

I find it’s important though that when I talk about myself, my illnesses aren’t the only thing I share about.  I am not my illness, and if I can communicate one thing that sticks with the person I am talking to I hope it is that people like me with chronic illness are so much more than the sum of their diagnoses.  I am also a women with hopes and dreams, talents and aspirations, fears and weaknesses.  I am human just like everyone else.  I am a graphic designer and a game designer and a novelist and a blogger and a scrapbooker.

I hope I never lose my desire to share fully and genuinely, and that I never forget to share the most important thing of all – what makes me who I am.

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• Meditours commented on Scrapaganza Meditours is committed to providing medical treatments of the highest medical standards today by wor
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When I was 16 years old, during my senior year of high school, I was immersed in a deep and serious clinic depression.  My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder had just been diagnosed but was not yet under control.  I had constant intrusive thoughts of hurting myself – of ending my life.

Looking back I really had amazing self control on the whole.  But I could only handle so much.  The second time I caved in to the constant bombardment of intrusive images of self-harm, and I ended up cutting myself using razor blades my parents had forgotten to hide out in the garage.

Afterward I was on the phone with my therapist at the time.  She was telling me I was at a crossroads… that if I chose to continue down this path of cutting I would probably end up in a hospital.  I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying.  Instead, I was transfixed by what was sitting on the desk in front of me – the candlelighting piece my mom had made for my younger sister’s Bat Mitzvah.  She had glued this tiny shells all over the outside of it go with my sister’s tropical theme.  And it struck me then with incredible intensity how very beautiful those tiny shells were – how simply amazing it was that something SO tiny could be SO beautiful.  And if something that tiny in life could be that beautiful… well all of life was beautiful and precious as well.

I rushed to get off the phone with my therapist.  I knew that I had to find a way to hang onto this feeling.  I had stumbled upon my internal box of hope!  But I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to tap into again.  I had to find a way to make it physical while it was fresh in my mind.  I had to find a way to remind myself of this epiphany every day because I knew there would be many dark days ahead where I would desperately need to draw on my box of hope.

So I had my mom (who is good at crafty things) help me cover an old shoe box with some bright pretty wrapping paper.  I wanted my box of hope to be private and inconspicuous on the outside.  I didn’t tell her what it was for, but perhaps sensing my urgency she kindly helped me anyway.  Then I took the box upstairs to my room and set to work.

I put a picture of myself as a child to remind myself of happy memories of my childhood innocence.  I was obsessed with The X-Files and desperately wanted to know how it would all end, so I put a picture of that as well.

Most importantly I wrote in large purple letters:

I CHOOSE TO CONTINUE LIVING

I WILL GET THROUGH THIS

Then it was time to fill the box.  Inside I placed a smiling drama mask to remind me of my love of theater and the creative arts since creativity had always sustained me during dark times and given me something to look forward to.

Next went the rug I wove myself while learning about Native Americans in elementary school.  I had always hated looking at it when I was younger because I hadn’t done it perfectly like my best friend Jennifer.  But over time I came to love it for it’s imperfections.  In the box, it reminded me that imperfection could be beautiful too!

I put in a bracelet I made when I was 11.  All the beads were pretty by themselves but together well… it reminds me that you can have too much of a good thing.  But also to have fun and to have a sense of humor in all things.

Second to last I put in a rope I tediously made myself during Outdoor Education in 5th grade.  I spent over an hour with my hands going numb in an icy cold river laboriously pounding all the moisture out of a reed before braiding it into a rope.  It reminds me of the power of hard work.  And the rope itself, which could hold my whole body weight, reminds me to always be strong.

Finally I included a letter that saved my life one day.  I was home alone after school and feeling very suicidal.  I was searching for a knife to cut myself with.  Suddenly, I had a prompting to go check the mail before I got any further.  I almost never received any mail, but on that very day the following letter was there for me.

I cried when I read the letter.  It quite possibly saved my life that day.  I stopped looking for a knife and starting trying to figure out who could have sent it.  I didn’t think about hurting myself at all for the rest of that day.  The letter reminds me that I am loved even when I don’t realize it or it doesn’t feel that way, and that God is there working miracles in my life.

Now it mostly sits in my closet, but I always know it is there if I need it.  But today I was talking with a friend who is going through a very dark time in her life, and I told her about it.  I offered to send her photos of it, but, I thought, why not go a step farther and share it here?  Perhaps there is someone else who needed a little box of hope today.

Has anyone else made a box of hope or something similar?  Please share and post about it in the comments!

Recent Comments:

• Deborah Anderson commented on 10 Ways To Stay Organized With A Chronic Illness As a professional organizer, I can offer these tips in helping you be organized while managing pain.
• KatieM commented on Visualizing Symptoms Hi Lauren, thanks for this. I am working on a similar project and would love to talk to you about st
• Meditours commented on Scrapaganza Meditours is committed to providing medical treatments of the highest medical standards today by wor
• 68mu79d commented on Fear
• anna y commented on An Update and a Big THANKS!!! you inspire me. i have no idea how i came across your blog… probably through some of my crazy goog

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