I hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst, and unfortunately the worst won out this time.

I’m back in the hospital again.

I woke up Thursday morning feeling pretty horrible.  Fever, chills, dizziness, and worsening kidney pain.  After three days of oral antibiotics, my kidney infection was getting worse not better.  I called my doctor who agreed it was time to head to the hospital.

By the time I got the ER, fever, pain and dehydration had conspired to give me tachycardia (racing heart rate).  I suppose one of the upsides of being really sick is being seen right away.  Despite the crowded waiting room, they found me a bed in the ER straight from triage.

They ran some tests.  Not surprisingly my white blood cell count was way up due to infection.  The ER doctor quickly explained that though they send home 95% of patients with kidney infections, there were multiple reasons he felt I needed to be admitted.  I’m immunosupressed from all the Prednsione I’m on, I have multiple chronic illnesses, the oral antibiotics at home didn’t work, and so on.

So I was admitted.

I received two different IV antibiotics over the next several days.  My veins weren’t happy about it and I went through 6 IVs in as many days.  But overall my stay has been uneventful.  Mostly I’ve been too tired to do anything but sleep.

I had several visitors who helped break up the monotony.  My mom and dad spent the most time here with me.  Sunday I was pleasantly surprised by a visit from two friends from church, Liz and Halee.  Then yesterday an old friend from high school Jenny paid me a visit followed by Christy and Brad from church.

I’ve been waiting this morning to find out the results of my latest tests and was just told they are good to go.  I’ve been discharged!  Yay!

I will go home with oral antibiotics which I will stay on long term to hopefully prevent yet another one of these kidney infections I seem so prone to getting.  It’s getting old – ending up in the hospital every few months from these things.  I’m hoping that these long term antibiotics will do the trick and keep me out of the hospital.

Fear.

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.

I’m well on my way on the road to recovery.  I’ve been doing more and more things independently, and I’ve been walking up a storm.  But I’ve been asking myself how much better is better enough?  What risks am I willing to take to achieve a complete recovery?

Since my Baptism three weeks ago, I’ve only used my wheelchair twice – once to attend an all day Transmedia Conference at USC and once to go to the Santa Barbara Zoo for the day with the Singles Ward at Church.  Though I’ve been doing fabulously with increasing my stamina for walking, I’m still a long ways away from being able to walk around all day at a hilly zoo.  The conference and the zoo were both a blast, but it amazed me that I already feel so weird being back in my wheelchair for short periods.  It’s hard greeting people’s belly buttons again when I’ve finally been able to look people in the eye for the first time in over a year.  I also feel more visibly disabled than when I’m just using my walker.

And I’m worried I’m headed back to my wheelchair.  The more I walk the more my joints have been hurting me.  But I’ve been pushing through the pain anyway which probably hasn’t been the best idea because I have now given myself an overuse injury in my left knee.  Now I need to get a knee braces and I’m considering getting ankle braces to prevent further injury.  I’m also supposed to start physical therapy.

So though I’ve been doing great at increasing the distance I can walk, it has come at a cost.  So that is one part of the equation.

The other part of the equation is the question of how I’ve been able to reach this point.  I believe it is largely a miracle.  A gift from God that has allowed me to recover my strength so quickly.  But my doctors feel (and I agree) that it is also that the Rituxan that I did all those months ago has finally shown some benefit.  So the question becomes would another round of Rituxan would get me even farther?  And is that worth the risk?

Those Rituxan infusions were no walk in the park.  I had problems with low oxygen during the infusions themselves followed by weeks of needing to be on extra Prednisone to counter an adverse reaction involving horrible back pain, fevers, and a rash.  And that was relatively minor compared to the other risks involved which could rarely include life threatening complications and infections.  But if the Rituxan helped reduce my joint pain this far, how much more could I be helped by further infusions?  That is a question I will discuss with my Rheumatologist at my next appointment.

In the meantime, I’m left to ponder if this is as pain free as I can get without further risk, can I live with that?  Am I better enough?  But even as I write this, I think I know the answer.

No.

I want my life back.  I want to live without pain every moment of every day.  I want to be able to go hiking and play tennis again.  I want to be able to make plans and not worry about how much energy I’ll have.  I want to be able to accept jobs and not worry about ending up in the hospital in the middle of them.  I want to be able to go back to school and not wonder if I’ll stay healthy enough to make it through the semester.

So NO I don’t want to be better enough.  I want to be better!  And I’m willing to risk a lot to get there.

Image by Stewf via Flickr

17

The number of diagnoses I’ve accumulated so far… Sjogren’s Syndrome, Autoimmune Pancreatitis, Autoimmune Hepatitis, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, Cerebritis, Neuropathy, Autonomic Dysfunction, Fibromyalgia, Raynaud’s, Erythromelagia, IgA Deficiency, Asthma, Sleep Apnea, OCD, Depression, Anxiety, and ADD.

7

The number of years it took to be diagnosed with Sjogren’s Syndrome.

26

The number of years I’ve been living on this earth.

28

The number of medications I take

150

The number of pounds I’ve gained from Prednisone.

30

The number of pounds I’ve lost recently.

3

The number of pants sizes I’ve dropped recently.

8

My pain level right now.

17

How old I was when I when I last felt at all healthy.

3

The number of surgeries I’ve had… appendix removed, gallbladder removed, bladder stimulator implanted.

2

The number of doctors appointments I have next week.

13

The number of doctors I see on a regular basis.

0

The number of days I’m without pain.

Through my chronic illness, I have come to realize how crucial it is to have faith.  When most people think of the word “faith” they think religion, but there are so many other aspects to keeping faith alive in your life through dark and difficult times.  In fact, the word “faith” is merely defined as “confidence or trust in a person or thing.”

I have been blessed with always having a tremendous faith in myself.  Faith that I have the ability to get through anything no matter what life rolls my way.  But oddly enough, I believe my faith in myself stemmed from my childhood traumas.  As a child I was forced into the role of the third parent in my house.  As painful as it was it gave me an inner strength — a knowledge that I was capable of getting through anything if I just believed in myself.

This inner strength and faith in myself was strengthened as I battled depression.  Living for three years with intrusive thoughts on hurting myself or ending my life and yet not acting on them, save three minor occasions, gave me the faith in myself that I could get through anything if I was determined enough.

So when my illness struck, I’ve always had the faith that I can get through this as well.  Though it isn’t always easy… in fact it hardly ever is, I have kept the faith in myself that I am a strong enough person to deal with whatever I find in front of me.  And that faith has gotten me through the endless doctors appointments and tests, the six and half years of searching for a diagnosis, the prolonged hospitalizations, adjusting to life in a wheelchair, and the daily struggle to keep a positive attitude despite my pain and other limitations.

I have also learned how important it is to keep faith that things will get better, that I will get better.  I have to have faith that I will find a treatment or even a cure that will allow me to live a more normal life again in the future.  This faith that things will be more than okay — faith that things will get better sustains me during my darkest hours.

And then there’s faith that I have in others.  I don’t keep my illness private.  Through this blog, through the people I meet and share my story with, I share my journey with the world.  And I have to have faith in people.  That they will understand.  That they will be there for me.  And though I sometimes find myself disappointed, overall I find that when I put my faith in others they rise to the occasion.  It’s as if they were waiting for me to put my faith in them.  Waiting for me to put my blind trust and confidence in them, and they respond by being there for me in more ways than I can count.  And I am so blessed and grateful for this.

Finally there is the ultimate faith.  The kind you have despite the lack of evidence or proof.  Faith in God.  Though I try to keep this blog secular, I feel I would be amiss if I didn’t share this part of my journey.  Though I was raised Reform Jewish, it never really resonated with me.  It is a beautiful religion, but through it was hadn’t found the close connection to God I’ve so desperately craved especially in the last few years as I’ve struggled with my illness.  I’ve tried out several different churches over the years.  I was going to a Universalist Unitarian church for a while, and though I loved the people and how open they were, I still didn’t find what I was looking for in terms of a close and personal relationship with God.  Finally, two Sundays ago I went to a Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints or Mormon church with a friend.  There I finally found what I had been searching for.  I have found the faith in God that I had been seeking.  I realized I had it all along.  I’ve prayed for a long time to find this closeness to God that I now finally feel, but I never expected to find it through Christ, and yet there it is.  And as surprising as it is to my friends, family, and even myself, I am getting baptized in a month.    And so I am really excited to embark on this new journey of faith.

Faith is so important no matter what form it takes.  When you are suffering physical pain all the time what else do you have to turn to but some sort of faith that things will be okay.  Whether it comes from within or from others or from God, faith is what has sustained me through my battle with chronic illness.