I’m scared about tomorrow.  Tomorrow I have to get a feeding tube put in.  But let me back up.

My liver function has been declining.  But now my GI doctor thinks that my liver problems might be from the oral antibiotic they had me on for my kidney infection, so I of course stopped that.  (My kidney infection seems to finally be better at least.)  With the liver my doctors want to wait 2 weeks to see if the levels normalize with me off the antibiotic.  If not then I’ll need a liver biopsy to determine what is causing it be it Autoimmune Hepatitis or something else, and we’ll go from there.

Over the last couple days, I’ve tried to eat clear liquids again and all I get is more pain and nausea.  I tried for the last time today, and I still had the same horrible nasuea and pain.  So tomorrow I’m going to have a feeding tube put in.  We are going to keep me on tube feeding for a WHOLE MONTH!!!  Why?  To really give the pancreas a chance to rest and calm down.  That means no eating for a month!!!  Ugh.

In the past, we would have just upped my dose of Prednisone to calm down the Autoimmune Pancreatitis, but now the side effects of the Prednisone are causing me too much harm and my doctors are afraid of raising it even more.

So tomorrow I will get a Nasojejunal Tube (or NJ Tube) placed.  It will go up my nose, down by throat, through my stomach, and into my small intestines.  It will allow me to get nutrition without aggravating my Autoimmune Pancreatitis.

So why am I so afraid?  Well for one thing you have to be under anesthesia for it.  Secondly, last time I had a feeding tube placed I woke up afterward into a nightmare.  I had somehow been exposed to latex which I have a life threatening allergy to.

I woke up feeling like I was drowning.  I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die.  I kept coming in and out of consciousness, but each time I awoke there were more doctors and nurses around me.  They couldn’t stabilize me in the Recovery room and had to move me to the ICU and put me on a machine to help me breathe.  I spent the day and night in the ICU recovering from the incident.

Since I found out that I was getting another feeding tube I have been having flash backs to the incident.  I am very nervous something similar will happen again.  Luckily the hospital is a lot more latex free than it was when this happened a few years ago.  But even so, I am having a hard time staying calm about it.

But if all goes well with the feeding tube, and I am able to tolerate the tube feedings well, they might be able to send me home from the hospital on Saturday.  If not, then I don’t know when I’m going to make it out of this place.

It’s already been 14 consecutive days and 20 total days that I’ve spent here in the hospital, but I’ve got to keep the faith!  I know I will make it out of here eventually.  In the meantime, my friends and family have been wonderfully supportive.  I owe them so much.  And when things are at their worst, I’ve been calling upon God to help me through.  He has been such a constant source of strength, comfort, and support.  I lived so long without God in my life, but now I don’t know how I’d get by without Him.

In the end, I just have to deal with things as they come.  Things are what they are, and I know that with my own inner strength and God’s help I can get through anything.  I could cry about it (and sometimes I do), but I’d rather laugh and make the best of things.  Because life is too short.

My growing collection of flowers from friends and family.

Though I am a Novel Patient, patience isn’t my strong suit.  But patience is what is required of me right now.

My kidney infection has triggered a flare of my Autoimmune Pancreatitis.  I’ve completely lost my appetite and am having severe upper abdominal pain that bores through to my back.  Luckily I am at the hospital with all my specialists including my Pancreatic specialist.  In terms of treatment, my doctors are really afraid to give me more Prednisone (a steroid) while I am still fighting this infection.  Plus they don’t want to undo my progress in tapering the Prednisone.  So the treatment is to keep me completely off anything by mouth – no food or even water – for several days until this hopefully calms itself down again.

So they are keeping me here through the weekend, and I get to practice being patient.

I am plain tired of it all though.  I am tired of being in the hospital so often that it becomes so commonplace to my family that they hardly bat an eye.  I am tired of having IVs and PICC lines hanging out of my arm and being covered with bruises from botched attempts at them.  I am tired of being woken up in the middle of the night to get my vitals checked.  I’m tired of all the medications and the side effects.  (A new fun one from the IV antibiotic is blurred vision.)  I’m tired of being bored and lonely and alone in the hospital.  I am tired of being so tired.

I wrote a poem just now:

In The Hospital

In the hospital
Knowing only pain
And loneliness
Poked and prodded
Woken in the night
Woken in to a nightmare
But this is no nightmare
This is my life
So I search
For a beacon of hope
For a way to get through
And make this trial a tool
To grow and evolve
Past the loneliness
And past the pain
Poking and prodding
My soul into change
Though I dream
And I hope
For health
I cannot wait
So one day at a time
In the hospital

On the upside, I get to take a shower tomorrow.  A REAL shower!!!  I can’t explain how much I’m looking forward to that!

Also my church has been amazing!  They’ve been calling and texting and most importantly visiting me.  It’s been awesome to have such a source of support for the first time in my life!  Their visits have broken up the monotony and made it so much easier to be patient.

And patient I must be – a novelly patient patient.

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.

Before the wheelchair and the Prednisone, I could hide my illness in plain sight.  This is me right after a hospitalization.

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.

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.