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.

Relationships are complicated enough, but adding chronic illnesses into the mix increases complications exponentially.  In fact, being bitten by the love bug leads to all sorts of symptoms, side effects, and potential complications.

It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself like a guy.  So imagine my surprise to find myself with a good old fashioned crush on someone.  But I have all the symptoms of a crush.  Fluttering in my chest.  Racing heart.  Warmth in my cheeks.  Funny feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about if he might like me back.  But it’s also brought up a lot of confused feelings – some not so pleasant.

I feel so inadequate because of my illness.  Why would he want me when he could have countless girls who are whole and healthy?

Dating me would mean dealing with all my limitations that even I don’t want to deal with – side effects if you will.  It would begin with setting the date pending me feeling up to attending.  Not being able to keep plans because of my illness has caused problems even with my closest friends.  Breaking a date wouldn’t exactly be the way I’d want to start a new relationship, but the possibility is a reality that would come with dating me.  Then when he’d pick me up we’d have to lug my wheelchair or walker on the date.  The first thing I want to explain to him would hardly be how to assemble my wheelchair.  At dinner he’d get a full education on my eating difficulties as I filled the waiter in on my food allergies and took pills with dinner that would allow me to digest my food.  Sounds like a pretty mortifying first date in all honesty.

I worry that I wouldn’t be able to do his favorite activities with who ever I date.  I can’t even do my favorite activities anymore.  I can’t go hiking or horseback riding or play tennis.  What if physical activities are an important part if his life?  How would I ever share that with him?

And then there’s the issue of feeling inadequate due to my appearance.  I’ve put on 150 pounds from being on steroids (Prednisone) to control my autoimmune diseases.  Though I’ve now lost a small portion of it, I still feel so physically unattractive.  Not to mention the horrible acne and hair growing in strange places the same medication has also caused.  I so desperately want to be thin again and have clear skin again if only so I will be physically appealing to guys again.

Then if things do work out after the initial shock of dating someone with chronic illnesses, there’s still all the complications that can arise down the road.  What if he gets tired of dealing with the day to day struggle of my illness?  If we someday get serious and get married, the reality is that having children and even sex itself can be difficult with a chronic and painful illness.  If we did have children, would I even have the energy to raise them?

I know.  I know.  Now I’m getting way ahead of myself.  But I don’t really know what else to say.  It feels like nothing I can say will explain how horribly inadequate my illness makes me feel.  I barely have the energy to be a good friend sometimes let alone a good girlfriend.

I hope that someday I find someone who can look past my illness and see me.  But until then I can’t help wishing that the love bug didn’t even bite me in the first place.

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.

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.