It’s
funny – people around the world dream of coming to New York City someday, and
have a list of the major landmarks they want to visit when they get there … but
those of us who have grown up in the NYC area tend to take those landmarks for
granted. In fact, many of us never even go to those “must see” sites, unless we’re
tagging along with friends or family visiting from out of town.
Why I Advocate
Note: This piece comes at the request of the Arthritis Foundation. I was asked to write about my experience with its Ambassador Program, and my success with one of our recent tasks. I am honored to have been asked, and hope the following does the program justice. For more information, visit arthritis.org/advocate/ambassador-program.
Nearly 10 years ago, I began feeling a variety of symptoms that didn’t seem to make much sense: I was exhausted and sore without doing anything strenuous, frequently weak, dizzy, and nauseous, I couldn’t sleep. I soon learned about a condition called Fibromyalgia, but it took 4 years and a dozen doctors before one believed me and diagnosed it. Over that time, I developed new symptoms, including skin rashes and painful swollen joints. It took another 4 years of rotating misdiagnoses before my doctors realized that this inflammatory arthritis was part of a disease called Sarcoidosis. These illnesses have taken so much away from me: I’m no longer able to work, I have to walk with a cane for short distances and use a scooter for longer ones, and I have to cancel more plans than I can keep. But the Arthritis Foundation has given back so much.
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Nearly 10 years ago, I began feeling a variety of symptoms that didn’t seem to make much sense: I was exhausted and sore without doing anything strenuous, frequently weak, dizzy, and nauseous, I couldn’t sleep. I soon learned about a condition called Fibromyalgia, but it took 4 years and a dozen doctors before one believed me and diagnosed it. Over that time, I developed new symptoms, including skin rashes and painful swollen joints. It took another 4 years of rotating misdiagnoses before my doctors realized that this inflammatory arthritis was part of a disease called Sarcoidosis. These illnesses have taken so much away from me: I’m no longer able to work, I have to walk with a cane for short distances and use a scooter for longer ones, and I have to cancel more plans than I can keep. But the Arthritis Foundation has given back so much.
Not a Drag
Note: This piece was originally written in response to the following writing challenge, offered by The Mighty:
We often read comments in our community about people worrying their condition will prevent them from being in a relationship or finding love, even if that’s not truly the case. What would you say to someone else with your or a loved one’s diagnosis who also feels this way?
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Back
in college, I dated the wrong boy for far too long. He seemed to feed off of every insecurity I had,
and even gave me some new ones. While I’ve
mostly overcome all that and rarely give him a second thought, there’s one
thing he said that has stuck with me all this time. One thing that has become my greatest fear,
my greatest insecurity.
The 5 People
A
friend of mine recently posted an interesting quote on Facebook. Now that’s certainly nothing to write home
(or write blog) about – every day we see dozens of quotes meant to make us
think introspectively for a second and then keep scrolling. Usually, we skip the introspection and just
scroll on. Occasionally we comment and
move on, but the point is that no matter what we do, we scroll past it and
don’t give it a second thought. I made a comment – half joking/half sarcastic, and scrolled
on, as we’re supposed to do. But this time, it stuck with me.
All About Awareness
For
starters, the most important thing to be aware
of is that arthritis is an umbrella term that covers over 100 different
conditions. Yes, that includes your
grandmother’s bad hip – that’s osteoarthritis
(OA), a degenerative joint disease caused by wear-and-tear. But it also includes things like carpal
tunnel syndrome, gout, and rheumatoid
arthritis (RA). And
then there are my issues.
Back
in 2007, I started feeling like something was wrong, but I couldn’t quite
pinpoint what it was. My body ached
everywhere – a deep, immobilizing pain as if I’d just done an intense workout. I felt an indescribable fatigue that no
amount of sleep (or coffee) could defeat.
I had headaches and stomach aches daily, and often felt dizzy, nauseous,
and weak. In 2008 I was sent to
countless specialists for countless tests, but the doctors had no answers for
me. They suggested I was “just
depressed” or worse yet, making it up. After
two separate nurses (parents of clients, not actually treating me) suggested
that it sounded like fibromyalgia, I
began to do my own research. The more I
learned, the more I knew that those
two nurses were right. Still, the
doctors continued to dismiss me, to disregard my suffering and deny my pleas
for help. It took another four years before I was officially
diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Treatment
does reduce the symptoms a bit, but what meant more than anything was the
validation that what I was feeling was real.
That’s why Fibromyalgia
Awareness Day (May 12) is so important – it lets other people
suffering with this condition know that they are not alone.
As
bad as it is, I wish I could say that fibromyalgia was my only ailment. Sadly, it rarely acts alone; fibromyalgia
patients often have a number of overlapping
conditions. In 2011 I developed new symptoms: unbearable pain and
swelling in my feet and ankles, and rashes on my legs. Though these didn’t fit with what I was sure
was (still undiagnosed) fibromyalgia, they were visible, which meant the doctors could no longer say it was all in
my head. I was told it was “some kind of
arthritis,” that it was autoimmune/inflammatory, but the doctor didn’t know
exactly what type. Over time, it
progressed, so that my hands often swelled and nearly all joints became
painful. It took another four years of rotating misdiagnoses and failed treatments
before we finally figured out that the inflammatory
arthritis and other symptoms were part of a rare disease called sarcoidosis. Like with fibromyalgia, the confirmation of a
definitive answer after years of only questions was a huge relief. Also like with fibromyalgia, the treatment
helps to alleviate the symptoms somewhat, but I still have pain and fatigue
every day, and a bad flare can knock me out of commission for days or weeks at
a time.
Lucky?
I
have always been a positive person. I’m an
eternal optimist, always holding on to hope, always looking to focus on the
silver lining no matter how cloudy life gets.
Sometimes I put pressure on myself to keep that up – partly because I
just prefer it to being sad, partly because I feel like a hypocrite when I don’t,
and partly as a matter of self-preservation.
Even (or especially) since illness has become such a big part of my
life, I find reasons to keep my smile, things to be grateful for daily. I feel like I'm supposed to say I’m lucky, it’s not that bad for me …
not compared to the others.
When
I was finally diagnosed (after 8 years of trying to figure out what was wrong),
I googled Sarcoidosis and the first
thing that came up was the Bernie Mac Foundation: started by his wife after he
DIED from this disease. I haven’t died,
so I’m lucky, - it’s not that bad.
In
the online groups I frequent, I see post after post about people hospitalized
due to their illness. I haven’t been
hospitalized, so I’m lucky – it’s not that bad.
At events I’ve attended, I’ve met people who must travel with
portable oxygen tanks. I haven’t
required oxygen, so I’m lucky – it’s not that bad.
A
friend of mine was misdiagnosed with lung cancer and treated with toxic
chemotherapy for years before being correctly diagnosed with sarcoidosis. I haven’t been misd- … well, I haven’t
been misdiagnosed with cancer (RA, Lupus, Psoriatic Arthritis,
Still’s Disease, and Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease, but not cancer),
and I’ve only had low-dose
chemotherapy treatment, so I’m lucky – it’s not that bad.
I
feel like I’m expected to say that I’m lucky because it’s not as bad as it
could be, or as bad as it is for some others: I haven’t died or come close to
dying from my illnesses. But is that really the standard we should use for “luck”? Yes, I’m grateful to be alive … but lucky?
Awareness(shhh)
When my mother
was diagnosed with thyroid cancer over 20 years ago, she never really talked about
it. She didn’t want to make a big deal
of it, didn’t want to worry my grandmother or anyone else. She never even really said the C word until
years later. She just had “a thing taken
care of,” and that was the end of it.
Even when we started doing events with the American Cancer Society, she
was hesitant to own it for herself, to join with others in the Survivor Lap.
Anyone
who knows me (or follows this blog) knows that I am not shy when it comes to
talking (or writing) about my illnesses. You’ve seen my posts about Sarcoidosis
Awareness Month, Arthritis
Walks and advocacy activities, and my involvement with World
Autoimmune/Autoinflammatory Arthritis Day.
It took a little while to get comfortable with that, to get over the
embarrassment and the fear of what other people would think of me. Ultimately, I had to just get over it. These illnesses aren’t my fault – I didn’t do
anything to bring them on myself – and if writing about them can help anyone else,
then that’s more important anyway.
That
said, I’ve still been mostly quiet about one illness/area. Physically, the details are not what anyone
wants to think about, so I don’t write about them. Psychologically, I was scarred by my third
grade teacher: if any student had to go
to the bathroom during the school day, she said we had 3 minutes; any longer and we would be in trouble (she assumed we must’ve
been playing, not actually using the facilities). I was conditioned to have this negative association
with an entire system; a natural biological process became synonymous with
being bad. Even though I now know how wrong she was, it’s been
so deeply ingrained that nearly 35 years later I’m still not comfortable discussing
it.
International Foundation for Functional Gastrointestinal Disorders http://aboutibs.org/ |
The
shame and secrecy make it so much worse.
Maybe if I’d heard people talk openly about this type of thing when I
was younger, it wouldn’t have been as bad for me. Maybe I could have spoken up when I was
having problems, rather than waiting until I had to be brought to the emergency
room at 8 years old. Maybe I wouldn’t have
developed such unhealthy habits that only make a “bad” situation worse. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so isolated,
living with a problem that I couldn’t talk about, and even doctors couldn’t
easily explain or resolve.
April is SAM!
Living with a chronic illness
is never easy – it can rob you of your abilities, your independence, your sense
of self … not to mention the pain and other physical symptoms. When your illness is cancer, MS, or another
well-known condition, it usually brings with it sympathy and support from those
around you: most people have heard of
these diseases, and have at least a basic understanding – they know these are
serious, and want to be there for you.
When it’s sarcoidosis,
however, that last part is often lacking.
With sarcoidosis (and many
other rare/less well-known diseases), there’s not a fast and direct line from
symptom to diagnosis. It can take years of doctors, tests, and
misdiagnoses before the right one is discovered, and even longer before a
helpful treatment plan is worked out.
During that time, the symptoms get worse, but the understanding and
sympathy from those around us often fades.
To an extent, some of that is
almost understandable. We seem to drag
on, often looking well though we say we feel awful, unable to answer the most basic
questions, like “what’s wrong with you?”
Our symptoms change from day to day, and often mimic or overlap with other
conditions. We call out sick from work,
cancel social plans, avoid chores … and no one really knows why.
That’s why Sarcoidosis Awareness Month (SAM) is so important. It gives us the opportunity to answer some of
those questions, to help those around us to understand what we’re going through,
and to help others living with sarcoidosis to know that they’re not alone. It gives us a chance to say the word, put a
face to it, and to build a community of patients and supporters who are in this
together.
The first question to answer,
of course, is What is sarcoidosis? I’ll
let the Foundation for Sarcoidosis Research
answer that:
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