So The Doctor Says...

Last week my feet & ankles swelled up really bad.  I have no idea why right?  I mean, this has only ever happened once and I was diagnosed with Arthritis.  This time though, they didn't hurt at all.  So no big deal, I wear the ugly shoes and try to cover with the long skirt I have.  Well the next day, the swelling had reached my ankles.  I showed a couple of coworkers and their mouths hit the floor.  They convinced me to go to urgent care.

Tangent - Let me tell you about urgent care lol.  We CVID'ers are not supposed to go to urgent care.  That place is where allllll the sickies go.  I must have been pretty desperate to go.  And frankly, I was desperate.  I had been trying over a week for someone to see me for some OTHER things that were going wrong.  No one would see me, so urgent care was my only option.

So, at urgent care, I sit WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY accross the room so I cannot get coughed on, sneezed on, spit on, etc.  LOL!  I did ask to see a specific doctor because she had seen me in the past.  Man, you always remember the good ones who actually TRIED to help you.  So in walks this...child playing dress up to look like a doctor.  Then she sits at the computer.  Wait! What? What the heck?  She was about 25....maybe, and I am being nice because I suck at guessing ages.  She looks over my chart and starts harassing me about an HIV test.  I'm like NO I've had 2, move on, she tells me Kaiser recommends we get one every year.  Ok well thats great and if I was actually HAVING sex maybe I would agree.  But frankly at this stage of my life, I do NOT one more diagnosis especially if its going to kill me.  NOPE do not want to know.  Told my lung doctor the same thing.  If I have lung cancer I don't want to know.  I will live out my life not knowing, not hooked up to freaking machines, not giving my poor child this horrible image of her mommy dying.

So, reluctantly, the doctor moves on.  Finally she looks up from the computer.  She says "You have too many things wrong with you and I cannot help you.  We are failing you and I am sorry".  WTF?  She did peer at my feet, point at them and said "THAT is NOT water retention".  Great thanks, what the hell is it???  As I was leaving, she half hugged me and patted me and said "I am just not that smart".  Then I went back to work with an unbelievable story about Kaiser Urgent Care.

But You Don't Look Sick...

I have 3 diseases:  A lung disease caused by CVID which is a Primary Immune Disease and now I've been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.  I wish I could learn how to shorten this into an IMPACTFUL presentation.  But here it is in its entirety.  


The Spoon Theory

by Christine Miserandino www.butyoudontlooksick.com

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.


As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?

I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.

As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.

At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.

Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.

She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?

I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.

I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.

When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.

I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.

After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.

Living Hell

First off, I want to apologize (in case anyone I know is actually reading this lol).  I have been a SUPER FREAK for about 3 weeks now.  Why you ask?  I was given ANOTHER friggen diagnosis.  Fibromyalgia.  I was on a horrible drug that I cannot tolerate that I am now weaning off of.

I am in complete denial.  One human being CANNOT possibly live with 3 diseases, be a successful single parent, work and go to school.  Well, I actually postponed school a little bit AGAIN (sniff sniff).  I emailed all my doctors and demanded they put their smarty pants on and think of something else to test me for as the other 20 tests all came back negative.  So did the 3 new ones my pulmo thought to test me for.  Crap.  So I reluctantly join a fibro support group on Daily Strength and thank God I did.  As with my CVID group, they  welcomed me home, shared their personal horrors, gave me advice and invisible hugs.  I was also told that being diagnosed with a serious illness is like experiencing a death.  Why? I was ecstatic when I was diagnosed with CVID - I had an answer!  I was definitely going through the stages though, I am in the denial stage....er um STILL.  Soon to be anger and isolation and hopefully acceptance.

Some of my closest friends do not even know I have this.  I feel like I am burdening my friends when I speak to them about it.  I know they love me and would listen.  They have a life, family, jobs, children.  I don't want to be a burden.  I want ME back, the ME that makes them laugh when THEY call me stressed out.  The ME that teaches my friends how to cook.  The ME that kept my house clean and NEVER cussed in front of my child.

I don't know what is going to happen.  I tried one of the meds and I turned into a psycho, literally cursed out one of my doctors.  It took me 3 weeks to realize what it was.  I will not try anymore as all the fibro drugs are antidepressants.  I have never been able to tolerate them.  I personally think, if you are not depressed or do not have a chemical imbalance they should react weirdly right? Or is that just more of my overly-logical thinking?

My biggest fear in life right now (since I probably will never post this on my facebook) is that I will have to go on disability.  I love the company I work for.  I have a really good job working in the office of the VP and helping some of the other leaders.  My direct supervisor is amazing, like a second mom.  If I have to go on disability, who am I?  I feel as if I will have NO worth.  What do I tell people when they ask "what do you do"? UM NOTHING? I'm 39, a single mom with multiple illnesses, who wants that in their life?