Those of you that have been following my blog know that for three years I have been struggling to find a diagnosis. In 2008, I got what I thought was the common cold and never really seemed to bounce back from it. The sneezing, coughing and congestion went away but the level of indescribable fatigue never went away. The fatigue got worse and so did my symptoms. The journey has been very long and extremely difficult. The worst part hasn't been the symptoms themselves (although they were totally debilitating at times and left me feeling miserable even when I could function normally), but the worst part was not having an answer.
Over the past three years I have seen thirteen doctors and spent thousands of dollars trying to find an answer. I have seen doctors that were the most rude and unprofessional people I have ever met (the doctor in Boston that told me to drink more coffee was my personal favorite) and I have been blessed in seeing great doctors, too. I have temporarily given up on many occasions and opted to just call myself crazy and throw in the towel. There was always a drive in me to find an answer and at the end of the day that is what was stronger than my will to give up. Loved ones around me had to excavate that will in me more times than I can even count and because of them I kept making appointments and trying any regiment that my doctor-of-the-month put me on. I have felt like a guinea pig more than a person over the past few years as I've been poked with needles, given injections and done trial doses of medications way too many times.
When Matt and I moved to Virginia I got signed up as a new patient at a doctors' office before we even wrote our first rent check out to our land lord. With the new move and changes came a fresh desire in me to get to the bottom of everything. My new family doctor did something for me that very few doctors have done for me- she listened. She truly showed a desire to find out what was wrong with me. Just since August I have been to four specialists and after having a clear and healthy MRI, I was sent to a Rheumatologist as a last resort. My Rheumatologist ordered up a bunch of really weird blood tests (true to Rheumatology) and then, I waited for five weeks to see him again. Those five weeks were torture as I waited because I just wanted an answer. My symptoms seemed to be at a steady "blah" and things weren't getting better.
I walked in to my appointment and was convinced that he hadn't found anything. That had been my life for three years-being poked at only to find that nothing was coming up in my blood tests. When my doctor told me that my blood work was positive for Sjogren's Syndrome, my first thought was that maybe he had misread the results. Was it possible that he really did find IT- the reason that my body had been worn for so long? Could he really have found the thing that has kept me from feeling like myself? He retested again just to make sure and yesterday I went for the results. The results were a resounding positive and after I left I sat in my car, called my mom and cried happy tears violently into the phone. "Mama, I'm so happy. I know now. I have an answer." was all that I could say. Of course Mama didn't care for me carrying on like that until she knew exactly what I had been diagnosed with.
Sjogren's Syndrome is an auto-immune disease that I will live with for the rest of my life. It can't be cured, but there is medication to help manage the symptoms. There is a website dedicated to it if you would like to learn more.
http://www.sjogrens.org/
Right now, I am still in the bliss of finally being diagnosed. I don't believe that the realization that this is something I will live with forever has set in yet. I'm sure that there will be a grieving process I will go through. I will save that for another day, though. : ) Thank you everyone that has been there for me during this. It has brought me to this moment and I couldn't have done it without you.
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