There was some drama around here on Friday. But it was CONSTRUCTIVE drama, which is my favourite kind of drama. It’s the kind of drama that gets things moving.
I saw a new specialist on Friday about some ongoing health issues I’ve been having (totally unrelated to my USUAL ongoing health issues). I’ve had a bunch of tests over the past few months to determine if I might have PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) or endometriosis.
I found out on Friday that I have BOTH.
Which kind of explains a lot.
I’m not thrilled to have two new conditions to add to my collection – but it was good to know that the symptoms I’ve been having have NAMES and TREATMENT OPTIONS, aka HOPE that I can feel better someday than I do right now. And let’s face it… Eliminating one of my many sources of pain won’t make me pain-free, but it will absolutely improve my quality of life.
(Someday, I’ll have a good laugh over the fact that we couldn’t have another kid because of my arthritis / fibromyalgia / chronic fatigue, but then I ended up with both the #1 AND the #2 causes of infertility in women – and they were diagnosed the week that our one and only baby started full-time school and I was sitting deep in the pit of sadness about her onliness already… But it’s not funny to me yet. Not even a little bit. It makes me feel like my heart is shattered into a thousand pieces. But that’s another journey for another lifetime.)
These diagnoses suck, but they’re treatable – and the fact that we were done having kids for other reasons means that we can take surgery off the table and try to get this under control with meds. The meds are not supposed to be that big of a deal, but I’m not tolerating the first one particularly well, i.e. I feel like throwing up ALL THE TIME right now… But that’s supposed to improve in the next three weeks to three months. And I’ll start the second new med in October. And then – with a little bit of luck – things will start to get better. THANK YOU, BABY JESUS for BETTER (or even the HOPE of BETTER) <3
That’s all kind of major. But the biggest AHA! moment of the appointment for me wasn’t the surprise double diagnosis. It was the words spoken by the doctor a few minutes later, as we discussed the symptoms that ‘qualified’ me for these conditions and myriad treatment options. We were discussing my weight gain over the last four years and she looked at me and said, quite simply, ‘That’s not your fault.’
Can we listen to that again?
‘THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT.’
She went on to explain that nothing I’ve tried could have overcome what’s been going on INSIDE my body. In fact, she thought it was pretty amazing that I’m as healthy as I am. But oh, the blood / sweat / tears that have brought me to today… I’ve tried diets and total (extreme) nutrition overhauls. I’ve tried running. I’ve hired a trainer. I’ve gone to the gym. I’ve done everything that I know how to do. And every time, it was devastating and heartbreaking when NOTHING HAPPENED.
To hear that it wasn’t my fault was a gift of life. And to know that – in a few months – I have my first real chance to do something about it was like feeling that first bit of warm sunshine in the springtime. It felt like HOPE.
Now, how to psychologically get myself to a place where I’m brave enough to try ONE MORE TIME? That will be another thing… A big giant THING. But I have some time before the meds are working and doing their thing. And I’ll be able to take baby steps toward being ready (and also toward being gentle with myself and my body… it’s been through a lot, and there’s no guarantee that I will lose weight – it could just be that I’ll stop GAINING weight, which is its own kind of winning).
It made me think of the figurative weight we all carry around with us, the kind you don’t see on the outside. Those same words of life – ‘that’s not your fault’ – would be just as powerful spoken into other areas of our lives, don’t you think? Or into the lives of the people we love. Something I’m pondering in my heart this week <3