A Peeled Banana

A life-changing event makes its mark much like a light switch being turned on and off. One moment the light is on, the next it is not and life will never be the same. There are moments in life that burn themselves in society's mind: 9/11, JFK's assassination, the Challenger explosion, Princess Di's death... if you ask people about those events, they can usually tell you exactly what they were doing when it happened.

On a smaller scale, my life-changing event happened gradually. But, it happened with the same before/after effects of the large scale examples above. I firmly believe that I eased into getting sick. I was a working wife and mother of an active boy. As a family we trudged through school/work, came home to tackle homework, fix dinner, attend Cub Scouts or soccer practice... it never ended and it never allowed me a break. I worked sick so that I could bank my sick time for when Tom needed me. He had asthma that was uncontrolled for awhile and Charlie and I both had to save our sick time. I mention this because I now believe every time I was sick and did not allow my body time to recuperate, every time a doctor would give me a shot of steroids so that I could get back to work quickly, I compromised my immune system. As parents we all worked sick and that means something was always going around. From 1998-2002, I miscarried 5 times. Again, I did not give my body time to heal and my immune system suffered. It seemed like my body was at war with itself, which I now know is true. I had continual infections, I suddenly became allergic to things I had always been able to eat, my period was either non-existent or unending, everything was an extreme. Please take my advice and listen to your body. Use your sick time if you work. Give yourself the time you need to get over whatever bug you might have. If everyone did this, offices would not have the carousel of contagious infections that are present today!

Since getting sick, I feel like a banana that has been slowly peeled. I surrendered to this disease in well-meaning stages. I knew when I checked into the hospital for my surgery that I might have a recovery period of somewhere between two weeks and six weeks. When I failed to recover as planned, I took the whole six weeks off from my work as a bank's loan compliance officer. Six weeks turned into eight weeks and then I began to panic. We were a two-income family and we depended on every cent. Most of the time I took off was without pay. The bank, a small one that had only a small number of employees, needed me to come back. Every day I didn't report to work was another day someone had to do both their job and mine. I went back to work, even as my body protested. Sure enough my first day back, two women came to work with strep throat and a week later I had strep. Another absence for me only added to the tension between me and my employers. Having no other option, they offered me part-time status. But, after going over the options, all part-time work would do is give me an opportunity to catch whatever was going around. The money wasn't worth it on a part-time basis. So, reluctantly, I quit. They said when I was ready, I would be welcomed back to the bank. Quitting for me was like the first peeling of a banana. It was also admitting defeat.

The next peel of the banana came when we gave up our house and moved in with my parents. Because I no longer had an income, we simply could not afford our house. Another peel came when we had to sell one of our cars to pay our outstanding bills. I cried watching the car pull out of the driveway. Of all the things we gave up, that car for some weird reason, represented just how low I had sunk. Another peel for me was giving up my freedom. If I stayed inside and was pretty much isolated, I did not get as sick. If I went out, even to church or God forbid Wal-mart, I was guaranteed a trip to the doctor. And to add insult to injury, waiting in a doctor's office was a death trap for me. Slowly, like the peeling a banana, everything is stripped away until you, in all your imperfect glory are the only thing left. It leaves you feeling naked and vulnerable.

Feeling naked a vulnerable happens for many reasons. First, you are at the mercy of your doctors. Believe me, when you report stomach issues, doctors think of all kinds of embarrassing tests to perform! Get over it and let them do their tests! Worrying over your vanity only zaps your stores of positive energy. A second reason for feeling naked and vulnerable is that your relationships (i.e. your marriage, your friendships, your parenting ability and the relationship you have with your extended family) change. You no longer have the freedom to go out and about without worrying over your supply of hand sanitizer and taking prophylactic antibiotics. Often people just don't understand. Also, for me, with lupus, I usually don't look sick. Sometimes people say I look tired or washed out. Oh, how I wish I could look as bad as I feel every now and then! When your insides seemed eaten alive with pain and heat and you're so fatigued it's an effort to wring out a rag, looking "tired" just doesn't seem to cover it. It's such an understatement! But on the other hand, complaining doesn't accomplish anything except making your loved ones worry. I usually choose to not complain and to try and sound cheerful. It goes back to that whole living with dignity thing from my second post. Still, when my husband asks how I feel every morning (with that little line of worry over his brow) it would be so nice to answer truthfully, "I feel great today!". He calls me on my lie every time. Today was a long one and I have so much more I want to say on the topic of this life-changing event. I want to move on and discuss how I was actually diagnosed so suffice it to say that lupus disrupts life as you know it. But, just because it's disrupted doesn't mean that it can't be great and fulfilling! Until later...