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.

Arise, walk through the land in the length of it and in the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee.
Genesis 13:17

He answered them, He that made me whole, the same said unto me, Take up thy bed, and walk.
Then asked they him, What man is that which said unto thee, Take up thy bed, and walk?
And he that was healed wist not who it was: for Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place.
John 5:11-13 (King James Version)

Sunday was a small miracle in the grand scheme of things but not so small to me and a miracle none the less. It was a day that I thought would never happen on many levels. One thing that I thought would never happen was get Baptized, but Sunday was my Baptism. Another thing I thought would never happen was walk at my Baptism, and yet I have gone from not walking from for over a year to no longer using my wheelchair at all in the last three weeks.

I’ve been hesitant to talk about my faith here as its a touchy and divisive subject for some, but I figure this is my blog and my faith has become a major part of my life. I share every other aspect of my life here. I would be remiss if I left something so close to my heart out.

But my faith wasn’t always so important to me. I was raised Reform Jewish, and though I was Bat Mitzvahed, Confirmed, and even assistant taught Religious School at my Temple, I never felt connected spiritually to that faith. So in my more recent adult years I’ve been searching for a faith that helped me feel close to God. For a while For a while I was going to the Universalist Unitarian Church in my area, and though I liked the people and the services very much I still didn’t feel that closeness to God that I so desperately needed.

So when Melissa invited me to join her for services at her at our local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I thought it was a long shot but worth at least checking out.  I had already learned a lot about being Mormon from her during the time she’s worked for me, and she had suggested I could get a blessing for my health when I went to church with her.

I was totally unprepared for what I experienced; I felt God for the first time in a very tangible way.  I knew right in that moment that my search had come to an end.  That I had found what I had been searching for.  I decided to start investigating the church and taking my Missionary Discussions that I would need in order to covert.  My blessing also said that through faith I could be healed.  It has been amazing how true that has been.

Over the following week I started feeling better than I had in a long time.  I decided to capitalize on the opportunity and try walking again for the first time in over a year.  I started with just a few steps.  I expected for the recovery process to be slow going.  I expected that it would take months to build up enough strength to walk more than a few steps at a time after over a year of being in a wheelchair or bed full time.  But I have been praying every night and the improvements to my walking have been exponential!  And in just three short weeks, I went from my first steps to ditching my wheelchair completely!

So Sunday I was Baptized, and I walked the whole day – including down the steps into the Baptismal Font and up again.  My Dad and his girlfriend Wendy were there which made my very happy.  My Mom chose not to attend which was the only sad thing.  It was one of the very best days of my life! And with it I have found such peace and happiness the likes of which I had never known.  Words cannot describe how grateful I am.  It has been such a relief and such a comfort.  I truly believe that through faith in Christ I have begun the healing process!  And I am so thankful to Him for this and for the closeness I now feel to God.  Through Him I have found what I was looking for and more than I could have ever imagined.

Today I walked ten whole feet!!!  It was only my second time walking in over a year!

It is something that for a long time I was afraid to even pray for.  But with a lot of prayer recently, I’ve come to realize that with a lot of faith in both myself and in God, anything is possible.

It’s also taken willingness to put up with significant pain.  But reflecting back on how much pain I was in while attempting to even stand a year ago (which is why I was in the wheelchair to begin with – very severe joint pain), the joint pain is significantly less than it once was.  I’m not sure what the final factor in the lessening of my joint pain is.  Maybe the Rituxan finally kicked in after all these months.  I just don’t know.  But I am so thankful that I have the opportunity to try to get up and out of my wheelchair again!  I decided to think that it wouldn’t hurt as badly as it once did, and so far it hasn’t!

My goal is to walk three days a week – Monday, Wednesday, Friday – leaving at least a day inbetween to rest, so I don’t completely over do it.

In the meantime, I’m trying to taper my Prednisone dose very very gradually.  In the recent past, every time I would try to taper the dose my neurological symptoms would flare – face drooping, increased tremors, numbness, and so on.  And I’ve been afraid that this would happen this time.  But so far it hasn’t.  And there are only three differences this time to which I can attribute my success so far.  Tapering insanely slowly, prayer, and the decision to think positivity.  Some combination of the three would be my best guess at the reason.

Though for years now I’ve considered myself a very positive person, it never ceases to amaze me what the power of positive thinking can do.  And now I’ve added prayer and a faith in God into the mix.  I feel a sense of inner peace I have never known.  And perhaps that is the most healing thing of all.

I have a long road ahead of me.  But I plan to take it one step at a time, one day at a time.  That is how I take all of life.  One step at a time.  One day at at time.  With a positive thought in my head and a prayer in my heart.

Having a chronic illness can rob you of your independence.  Suddenly you find yourself dependent on other people to do basic things you had always taken for granted, and this changes your relationships forever.

Before I got sick I was a super independent person.  I always preferred to do things on my own and avoided asking for help even when I really needed it.  With the onset of my autoimmune diseases, especially the neurological symptoms and symptoms that limited my mobility, asking for help became an unavoidable way of life.

Now I need help with even basic things like getting dressed or washing my hair – things I have done on my own for most of my life.  Those were the hardest things to ask for and accept help with at first.  It was frustrating for me and it was frustrating for my mom who initially found herself as my only caregiver.  Suddenly she was caring for me in a way she hadn’t needed to since I was a small child.  It tested our relationship.

At the time I felt very hurt at her frustration.  I wondered why she didn’t just automatically understand how much I had to humble myself to even ask for help in the first place.  It hurt when she responded with questions about whether I really needed the help or if I was feeling as badly as I was saying.  We fought a lot at a time when I really just needed her support.  Eventually I came to understand that I was failing to communicate.  I was also blinded by my own experience.  I was so caught up in dealing with the implications of a chronic illness and how it had shaken my world that I failed to see how profoundly it was affecting her as well.

But when I started to communicate this to her – that I knew how hard this was for her too  and that I appreciated all she was giving up to take care of me and that I knew it was also hard to watch her daughter get sick – the fighting tapered off.  I also found new ways to help her in return  that I could still do – mostly various types of computer and technical help.

When my mom simply couldn’t do it alone anymore, my need for help blessed me with two beautiful friendships in the form of two wonderful caregivers.  Sarina, my first caregiver, is more than a friend to me.  Born exactly one year apart, we say we are twins separated by a year at birth.  But it was odd at first having someone – a stranger – my age helping me with the very personal things I needed help with especially since I had been abandoned by several of my closest friends over the prior year.  They simply didn’t want deal with my new found illness and subsequent dependency.  Some stopped being my friend because they didn’t even believe I was actually sick and some of them just found it too much to handle and some I will never know their reasons.  In any case it hurt.  A lot.  But Sarina came in and loved me and accepted me and my illness.  She was truly a blessing and still is.

After Sarina moved away to further her career and get married, Melissa, my current caregiver, came into my life.  She is an angel in my life.  She, like Sarina, is always there for me.  We laugh a lot.  And through both of them I found that though I was sick I could still be a good friend in return.  I could still listen and be there for people.  I didn’t just need help from them, I could give it in return.

But at the end of the day I am still dependent on other people.  And I still hate that.  I don’t think I’ll ever not hate watching my mom or Melissa assemble my back backbreakingly heavy wheelchair.  I hate that I can’t just do it myself.  Though in a lot of ways, my relationships have grown and been strengthened by my need for help, and for that I am grateful, I am still eager to find ways to lessen my dependency.

So I am VERY pleased to announce that I’ve taken a step in the right direction – nine of them.  Last week  I walked (with the help of my walker) nine steps.  It was the first time I’ve walked in over a year!  I was having a low pain day and just went for it.  It was incredibly painful but even more incredibly worth it!

This post is my entry in February’s Health Activist Blog Carnival. If you’re interested in participating too, you can read all about it HERE.