I always know when my good ol' pal, Crushing Fatigue has come for a visit. When my phone alarm wakes me at 6 in the morning so I can wake my husband for his shower, so he can wake Hayden for his shower and the rest of the family sort of falls into line like dominoes...I wimper like a baby. Crushing Fatigue has reared its phenomenal head and is bearing down on me like a slothful hippopatomus.
And if that fun weren't enough, that hippo has some sort of hypodermic filled with sleeping potion. Well, that's not altogether accurate. The potion makes me feel like sleeping, for sure, but also makes me feel generally, well...ill. I suppose it may be called malaise. Some complex potion it is, because I also feel a bit in a stupor, as if in a fog, and a tad slurry. David wondered if I had just awoken from a nap yesterday when he phoned me, and I had been awake for hours. My short term memory is poor and my words are at times slurry. I'm most embarrassed to say David half-joked to ask if I'd had something to drink. I'm sure he knew I hadn't, and he joked it off by saying that if he was home all day with no kids HE'D surely have a couple during the day, and we both had a giggle.
So, another day goes living with the journey of my diagnosis. My legs aren't too awfully weak this week, which is good. They do hurt badly, do to the stiffness and crampiness. I am resting a lot due to the fatigue, so perhaps that is helping. The Boyzies are a very big help!
I got a book in the mail yesterday from a very good friend, one of my dearest friends, Dan, about spiritual healing. Healing in the sense of the healings Jesus and his apostles and disciples did in Biblical times, presumably. It was written by a friend of his about a Lutheran pastor who has the gift of healing, apparently. Very intriguing. I'm reading it slowly, due to my foggy brain. But I'm very compelled to learn what God has to say to me through it. If it were from anyone but Dan, I would be a bit skeptical.
I have hit so many brick walls in my search for a diagnosis, sometimes absurdly so. The idiot docs I've been to are either closed-mided or plain lazy. I have seen a few wonderful ones, but for some reason, things didn't work out.
Dr. B. was SO promising!!! Spent 3 and a half hours with me at my first visit! He was appalled at the treatment I got at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. He went through every single page of records with me. Every report every doc has written about me to see if I agreed -- then CHANGED it if I did not! He listened to me. I have to say it again. He listened to me.
He ordered more tests and sent me to a rehab doc who specializes in MS, and ordered an EMG/NCV and would see me back when the test results came back. The appointment was disastrous with the rehab guy, so Dr. B sent me to a neurologist THAT day to document my weakness.
I called his office the next week to make a follow-up appointment to go over all my testing, and they said he was retiring. He was ill and wouldn't be back.
I was so sad.
Sad, firstly because he is such a delightful man. He works at the hospital I work in, and we adore him! He advocates tirelessly for his patients, and we have heard he goes home each night to eat dinner with his family, before returning to the hospital to check on his patients. SO compassionate.
Secondly, I had felt such promise. From God. He was putting me on my path to my diagnosis, and treatment. But, I would have to wait. Again.
I have learned after times like these, and there have been so many, to pray for patience. To pray for a diagnosis in God's time. To pray for God's will. To pray to DESIRE God's will. To pray to be content if I never get a diagnosis; even if it means a wheelchair in my future.I have learned to be proud God trusts me to continue to challenge me and continues to build me up. I know I am fortunate to be healthy, to care for a wonderful family, to have meaningful work.
