Receiving a diagnosis for a disease is a whole lot different from having a doctor tell you that you have strep throat or a sinus infection. With those, an antibiotic has you feeling better within a few day. No, a diagnosis leaves you with that feeling in your stomach (like you just ate too many pancakes). Your mind whirls and you feel flushed. Then, the gears of your brain start immediately switching to combat mode. How can I get out of this? What do I do?
While every diagnosis is uncomfortable, the worst, to me, is receiving a diagnosis of a disease that A.) has no cure and B.) is progressive. For awhile now, I have lived with the knowledge, albeit in the back of my head, that I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. Because my visible tremors aren’t that bad, I often forgot I was dealing with it at all.
Most days, when pesky symptoms popped up, I blew it off as something entirely unrelated. That all ended yesterday. For the last 2 weeks, I have gotten very little sleep. On average, I’ve been getting 2 to 2-1/2 hours nightly. I sucked it up and plowed through. I pushed myself daily, refusing to nap or even sit. Instead of sleeping, I was constructive, doing things that wouldn’t wake the family or reading up to 3 books a night. The reason for my restless nights was easily explained, I thought. Each night, an hour after I fell asleep, I was awaken by full body, muscle spasms that not only constricted my body, but hurt beyond belief. One night, I even begged God to either manifest a healing in me or take me home. Home as in Heaven. I couldn’t take the pain. I’m not even embarrassed to admit it!
Buster was my rock through it all. When I broke down crying, he must have thought some ‘thing’ was hurting me. He ran literal circles around my body as I lay on the floor. Growling and barking at invisible force that was hurting his mommy, he, too, spent the last couple weeks without sleep. I so love him. But, this isn’t something Buster can chase away. No, it was time to admit that I needed serious help.
I should add that my doctor ordered a battery of tests back in January. I have found every reasonable excuse to not get the tests done. Then, I began to rationalize that some magical blood test held the cypher to my pain. Of course, they didn’t. But, on Thursday of this past week, I got the tests done. Having a lab in her office building allows my doc to get results fast- usually the same day. But, again, I procrastinated until yesterday. I called and was told that yes, she had the results and I needed to speak to her.
Initially, all was good. She called right away. My A1C has dropped to a non-diabetic level. Sweet! My cholesterol was great. Awesome! Then, she asked as she always does, how I felt. I took a deep breath and told her the whole ugly truth. Being that she has a heart of gold, she didn’t say ‘I told you so’ or ‘Duh’ or any thing even close. She simply said, ‘Are you ready for some help?’. Yes, yes I am.
She knew right away that everything I am feeling is PD-related. So, we had to take a step I hadn’t been ready for at this point. I am going to start taking meds specifically for my disease. Am I happy about it? No, no I’m not. Am I scared? Yes, yes I am. Mostly because I know that once you begin a dopamine regime, you’re stuck with it. There’s no turning back. No second thoughts. My body doesn’t do it’s job in the dopamine arena. So, now, it’s official and real to me.
I had to tell my husband, who didn’t take it well. I know he’s worried about the future. So am I. But, the sun still rose this morning. God is still on the throne. He can still manifest a miraculous healing in me. Even if I have to wait for complete healing until He calls me home, I’m holding on to that promise. I will have my weepy days and my pity parties. But, I will take one day at a time.