We all feel things in our bodies - different variations of wellness. Sometimes we get headaches. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we have a harder time recovering froma workout and wake up sore. There are variances in our lives and in our bodies and most of these things only get a passing nod from our consciences. For a split second our attention is turned inwardly - the sensation is acknowledged and then we move on. This is what has been happening to me. I would get a little fever. I'd barely notice it as I baked, carpooled, and cleaned. Sometimes, though, I'd rest for a time. That usually did the trick and I would be good to go for the rest of the day. Sometimes the fever was there the next day, but not usually more than 3 or so days in a row. Then several days would pass. We went through a time where a child would get sick and I'd have one of my fevers and I'd rest while they reseted. Then in about five more days, another child would be sick and I realized that I didn't really feel that great either. So I'd rest while they rested and soon we'd both feel better again. After several episodes like this, I found myself seeing the bigger picture. The picture that was of me getting fever after fever. They were always low-grade fevers and so mostly consisted of headaches, but had a hint of that crappy feeling that fevers offer so generously.
Then just this week I got another one of my fevers, but this time I was SO bugged. I needed to get things done, but I felt just crappy enough that I found myself resting in bed. And then after I taught my yoga class, I looked down at my upper arm and say them. They were there again and I wondered, for the first time if they could be connected to my fevers. "They" are petechiae. Small little broken blood vessels in a little clump. These little babies had been a part of my life for several months. Something I just ignored. One time at a family reunion, I got them so bad that it looked like blood. My husband told me that I bruise easily. I accepted this, but not completely. It stayed in the back of my mind as odd.
Another one of my pains was my finger joints. When I would push on my cell phone, the joints of my fingers would ache slightly. I attributed this to popping my knuckles for so many years. I stopped popping my knuckles.
All these little symptoms were like wind, a small breeze that was easily ignored. But then suddenly, I was able to see that it was more of an seemingly organized swirl, as though now I was looking from above and noticing that the wind I had been experiencing was part of a little tornado. It occurred to me that these things may be connected.
I mentioned my symptoms to my friend who is an oncologist. He suggested that I get them checked out sooner rather than later. He suggested getting my blood count measured (this signifies cancer) and also tests to determine if there is an autoimmune disease. I made an appointment for that day.
I met with Dr. Taylor. He seemed thoughtful and really took in what I was saying. This I was grateful for and yet I kind of half expected him to say that it's probably nothing and to go home and just see what happens. Instead he agreed that a CBC (complete blood count test) should be given as well as several autoimmune tests along with a thyroid and mono test.
The phlebotomist did a wonderful job. For this I was grateful - even though it has been almost a day and my arm still hurts every time I bend at my elbow.
They took out a lot of blood. That makes me nervous. It makes me nervous that they are taking this seriously. I have one more day to wait for the results. My thoughts go from ignoring it (I've hardly told anyone what is going on.) and then wondering what I would do if it actually was cancer or an autoimmune disease. "This wasn't supposed to happen to me," is the next voice I hear - even though in reality, as far as I know, nothing has actually happened. And then the quiet thought of "This wasn't supposed to be the story of my life." And then I wait and I wonder if this will change everything. I wonder if I will have what it takes to take care of my family and some big diagnoses. There are lots of worries, probably most of them empty, but the fact that they are testing them is something that makes me nervous. I keep wanting to share my worries with my mom, but I know that it's unfair. She will think the worse and if it turns out to be nothing, then I will have worried her for nothing. There is something strangely relieving to know someone is doing some of the worrying for you, but not this time. This time I will have to do this alone. I will worry alone and I will wait for the call from the doctor that is supposed to come tomorrow. The waiting is becoming painful. I just want to know; that way I can jump into action whether that action is through educating myself or finding specialists that can help - whatever. And yet a part of me doesn't want everything to change. A part of me is okay with not facing reality, but it is a small part.
And so I sit. It is quiet as in the eye of the tornado. And I wait and wait.
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