*this is a vent in the purest sense of the word. I’m hoping that talking through how I’m feeling might grant me some insight*
Frustrated. Angry. Confused. Scared. Upset.
These are all “feelings” words that describe me today. Okay, not just today. Maybe its more like a few weeks. Or a decade. Or my whole life.
I’ve spent the last decade or so living with a chronic illness, and I like to think that by this point I’m pretty good at dealing with all things health-related. I’ve now realized that this is a lie. I’ve been lying to myself without knowing it.
There are, in my opinion, two major parts to being ill- the Physical and the Mental.
When it comes to POTS, I’ve got both of them down. I’m used to my heart rate jumping high, I’m used to being dizzy, and I’m used to my body being unpredictable (POTS affects your Autonomic Nervous System, which controls everything from how well your body digests food, to how efficiently it pumps blood through your body). And when it comes to the mental part, I can handle feeling useless, feeling frustrated that my doctor isn’t calling me back or that test results are taking forever. I’m even used to not getting to do things that I want (mostly things that involve a lot of standing).
The POTS stuff, as I’m sure you’ve realized is just background for what’s happening with me now.
About 6 months ago, I started to experience dyspnea, which is med-speak for ‘I can’t breathe when I lay down”. Thanks to POTS, I didn’t panic. I’m used to weird stuff happening to my body, remember? I figured that whatever it was transient and would disappear as soon as it began. This, my friends, was tragically optimistic of me.
I’m going to gloss over the first pulmonologist that I saw, the one who told me that I had Respiratory Muscle Weakness, a pretty severe case, and then refused to call me back. For a month! It sure feels like a kick to the gut when the person who’s supposed to be taking care of your health thinks that you’re too complicated and pawns you off on someone else.
The doctor situation is better now. I’ve got smart specialists who communicate well. I’m so thankful for this, but I’m still frustrated and angry and confused and scared and upset. If I felt this awful when I was getting my POTS diagnosis, then I clearly must have blocked it out because it is damn near unbearable.
It’s the waiting that really gets to me. I’ve spent this past few weeks on the edge of my seat, waiting for test results to come in, and for doctors to call me back. And every time a test does come back negative, half of me is overjoyed that I don’t have Myasthenia Gravis or something like that, but the over half of my brain whispers to me that at least it would have been an answer.
So that’s all of my insight, every last piece. And what have I learned? I know that I don’t handle the unknown very well (this should not be a surprise to any of us though). I know that doctors who treat me like I’m a nuisance make me a tiny bit homicidal. Lastly (and this is the big one, I think) I realized that for the first time in the entirety of my adulthood, I’m really happy with my life, and the idea of some medical condition fucking it up is what’s making me frustrated and angry and confused and scared and upset.
So I’m going to keep my self grounded. Maybe do some self-care. I will not obsess about something I can’t change. And most importantly I’m going to keep my fingers crossed for an answer that’s straightforward and easy to treat. Something the exact opposite of POTS.
And until then, I’m going to BREATH