Sometimes I forget that learning to live with a chronic illness is an endless grieving process.  I tend to get very caught up in maintaining a positive attitude, and fail to let myself feel the negative feelings that naturally come with all the change and loss I’ve experienced while dealing with a chronic illness.

This past year has been a difficult one for me.  There have been lots of changes and losses.  I endured two long hospitalizations – one for six weeks and one for eight weeks with one week intubated in the ICU.  I’ve been through multiple changes in caregivers.  I’ve been dealing with my parent’s separation and impending divorce.  I even made a major positive life change when I converted from being Jewish to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints,  and though this has brought me so much happiness, it has wrought some negative side effects – significantly straining some relationships with family and friends.

Through all this I think I’ve maintained a remarkably positive attitude.  I’ve become an expert at coping.  I’ve channeled my energy into other things I still can do like scrapbooking, Alternate Reality Game design, web and graphic design, and novel writing.  This has helped me keep my spirits up as I’ve created an identity for myself beyond being a “sick girl”.

This is all well and good.  In fact it’s great!  I love being happy.  I have no desire to wallow in self pity.  But that doesn’t mean that the negative feelings go away.  But where do they go?

I’ve come to realize recently that I’ve been stuffing them away.  I still feel deep sadness, mourning, and loss.  I still have intense fear for my immediate safety and my future.  But I keep that all hidden deep beneath my ever positive outlook.  Why?  Because feeling them hurts and I’m afraid of what they’ll do to me and my relationships if I let myself feel them.

Still they come out in other ways.  I eat too much and don’t sleep enough.  My obsessive compulsive disorder flares up.

So I recently came to the conclusion that I needed a safe place to let myself feel all these negative emotions once and a while.  I decided it was time to see a psychologist – one that specializes in disability and chronic health problems.

I’ve only had one session so far, but that one session made me realize just how much I’ve bottled it all up and just how much I need to let it all out.  Because living with a chronic illness is an endless grieving process, and sometimes it’s important to let myself feel the full impact of that.

The recovery process after a long hospitalization can be long, boring, and frankly difficult on so many levels.  Yes, I said after a long hospitalization.  I’m pleased to share I’ll have been home three weeks on Monday!  And while being home is an infinite improvement over being in the hospital, it raises new challenges, frustrations, and disappointments.

I’ve been very limited in what I’ve been able to do for myself due to pain and extreme fatigue and lack of endurance.  I have a long way to build back up, and I have to be patient.  But I don’t want to be patient right now.  Right now, just walking to the bathroom and back is enough to exhaust me.  But I fantasize about walking around my family’s Hanukkah party on Sunday.  If I am even up to going at all.  I didn’t make it to my family’s Thanksgiving.  Another big disappointment.

Being sick I’ve missed out on so many important events.  Holidays, birthdays, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.  Laying in bed it’s sometimes hard not to feel like life is passing me by.    I’ve lost so much and given up so much.  A million tiny and not so tiny disappointments.  Too much to count or quantify. But each a pain that runs so deep it sometimes threatens to swallow me up.  But there’s also so many things I’ve gained.  I just hope that it balances out in the end.

Even as I listen to the alarms of my own monitors, angry that things still aren’t quite as they should be, today I just feel so grateful to be alive. Life is so precious and short and wonderful. I feel so lucky to be breathing on my own again. It’s the little things you so easily take for granted.

Overall I’m feeling much much better. I am breathing all by myself after a week of needing a ventilator to breathe for me due to my autoimmune disease paralyzing my breathing muscles.  I’m now out of the ICU. YAY! My double vision is also much better and I am moving all four limbs again!

I am having some high heart rate issues today (with some chest pain and shortness of breath), and I’m possibly brewing another infection somewhere.  So I get to look forward to more tests tomorrow. Fun times!

I am still hopeful though that I’ll get out of here to some degree of soon(ish).

Thank you everyone everyone everyone who has been there for me! This has been a very very scary experience for me and my family, so whether you’ve come to see me or written me a note, signed a card or just kept me in your thoughts and prayers, it all has been so very much appreciated by all of us!!! I love you all and miss you so much!!

“Too young.”

That is a phrase I have heard a lot in different contexts since I’ve been dealing with chronic illness.  I’ve been told I’m “too young to be this sick”, “too young to have to use a wheelchair”, and “too young to have to use a walker”.  Most recently I was told I’m “too young to increase my dose of pain meds” by my pain management specialist.

I went to my monthly pain management specialist appointment last week.  I’ve been having a lot more pain some days lately.  Stabbing pain in my joints that wake me from sleep and make me gasp in pain when I walk (but yes I’m still walking 99% of the time!).  I went to my appointment with the hope that I would get some relief.  But my doctor felt that I am “too young” to increase my pain meds.  I left feeling disappointed, a little angry, and still in pain.

On one hand I understand her concern.  If I have to keep increasing my pain meds now, what will I do in five, ten, or twenty years for my chronic pain?  What will I do if I end up in the hospital with an acute flare of Autoimmune Pancreatitis which is extremely painful and no pain meds will work anymore?

But on the other hand, I’m in pain now.  And despite what people what people might say, the unfortunate reality is that I’m not “too young” to be in this much pain.  And my age doesn’t make my pain any less painful or any less valid.  And my age especially doesn’t make my pain any less deserving of treatment.

Overall I’ve been happy with my pain specialist doctor.  I’m grateful that she is willing to prescribe me pain medication at all.  I went through several doctors before her who flat out refused to treat me because of my age.

The crux of the problem I think is that chronic pain is invisible.  No one can see my pain.  My pain specialist doctor certainly can’t.  Only I can feel it.  However, though my pain is invisible, I certainly am not.  And I cannot let my invisible pain (nor any of my other invisible illnesses) make me feel invisible.

So what do I do?

I need to speak up for myself and advocate for myself more.  I cannot let myself feel intimidated about telling my pain specialist that I disagree with her decisions.  If I shrink back and keep this to myself, I make myself invisible as my pain.

I also need to share my experience with the people in my life, so they can understand what I’m going through.  I’m not talking about whining about being in pain, but, in the appropriate settings, tell the people in my life what it feels like physically and emotionally to be in my shoes.  Part of that is this blog.  Sharing my journey on this blog helps me feel empowered and lets me make my invisible illness visible.

The bottom line is I am “too young” for just one thing… I am “too young” to let this beat me!

This week is Invisible Illness Awareness Week!  Nearly 1 in 2 people live w/ a chronic condition, most of them invisible. If it’s not you, it’s someone you love.  Help spread the word!

You have to take the good with the bad. I subscribe to this philosophy not just when it comes to my life but also when it comes to my favorite hobby – scrapbooking.

I started scrapbooking almost two years ago now. My mom had made me a beautiful scrapbook for my Bat Mitzvah when I was 13. She promised my younger sister Danielle the same thing. But life got in the way and my sister’s Bat Mitzvah scrapbook turned into a middle school graduation scrapbook then a high school graduation scrapbook and finally a college graduation scrapbook.

As Danielle’s college graduation approached my mom still hadn’t started the scrapbook. But I figured maybe I could help. After all, I was home all day with nothing to do. It might even be fun, I figured. I had no idea I would end up loving it so much, that I would find a hidden talent, and a passion… well more like an obsession.

When all was said and done, my sister’s college graduation scrapbook became a three volume set encompassing her entire life up until that point. It was time to move on to other things, so I started in on my own life.

While going through my own pictures from the last several years, there were many pertaining to my illness. Hospital stays, doctors appointments, and so on. There was even a birthday I spent in the hospital.

At first I was hesitant to include these not so happy memories in my scrapbook. But I realized that these were experiences that I also wanted to remember. These bad times in my life are part of what makes me who I am. So I put them in.

The actual time I spend scrapbooking is therapeutic. It exercises my creative muscles and helps me relax for a few hours while I design and arrange, cut and glue, label and decorate.

It’s actually rather therapeutic to scrapbook memories of my illness. Once it is scrapbooked, it feel more concretely in the past. And it can help me look to the future. For instance, I did a page of my me taking my first few steps when I first started walking again. Now I am able to walk around a store! I can look back and remember it and see how far I’ve come!