12-27-12

Its’ been a while since I’ve written in here…. And for a good reason.

It is rather difficult to come up with the right words to say on this topic anymore, let alone any words at all. How do I inform the world of this when I can’t accept it myself? I wish I could write in here and give people hope, awareness, and faith. I wish people would gain strengths from reading these, but how can they when I’m constantly the bearer of bad news.

I want to write that the IV’s have worked and that I am getting better. Slowly, but surely, things are moving forward. I want to tell you that my life has finally gained composure and is beginning to look up. I want ever so badly to tell you that all of this will soon fade away like a bad dream and that I will be able to move on with my life at last. I want to help others with this, but how can I when I can’t even help myself? It is quite a frustrating position to be in.

My shoes are filled.

This journey has been too long, but not long enough. I still want to walk down this road a ways and see what’s around the bend. But I am just a mere field mouse running in circles below as a hawk circles above.. just waiting to plummet from the skies and introduce me to my impending fate.

The truth my friends… I agreed to tell you all the truth this time.

I agreed to allow you to see the Megan behind her pretending. The infamous pretender that I am.


*It’s too hard for me to just accept what is happening to me.*


Yet, the truth for me is hard to swallow. Like swallowing a jagged pill followed by a jar of rusty nails. And yet, there is no avoiding the truth now.

From following a brief post here or a brief post there, most of you can acquire that I haven’t been well. That my body is too weak to continue treatments of any kind at the moment.


*This isn’t fucking happening to me.*


My bloodwork shows malnutrition. My stomach is in knots.. constantly. My immune system is weakened and my body isn’t reacting well to the IV medication Doxycycline. Rochephin about kills my gallbladder and I’m nowhere near strong enough to handle the “big guns” Vancomycin. Claforan made my hair fall out in clumps and my skin turn blue. I have an immunity to Zithromax from being on it too long. But to get down to the point.. I’m too weak to handle the dosage I’ll need for any of these medications.


*Fuck….*


Ehrlichiosis . Babesiosis. Bartonella. Lyme. have all taken over my brain.
My body is rejecting nutrients, no matter how much food I force myself to eat, causing me to lose weight instead of gain.


*How can this be happening……*


My stomach is too sick to handle supplement treatments. Oxygen therapy isn’t enough. I have a heat intolerance which makes heat therapy impossible. Acupuncture… tried it. Detoxing. Been there… done that.

Your gallbladder is fine, they say. Your stomach looks great, they say.

Then why am I unable to remain conscious?

Ovarian cyst? They say. We’ll get to the bottom of this, they say.

Then why am I taking test after test with no answer?

We’re unsure…… they say. But we’ll keep searching. Maybe its H pylori.

I’m not a fucking guinea pig. And am tired of being treated like one for the last 20 years of this.


*I’m so tired……*


I’m so.. so tired.

“I would love to go back to go back in time to when we used to live at John’s old place…” My parents say… Reminiscing about the past. “Just for a day or two..”

I would like to go back in time to when I didn’t feel like a science experiment. When my aches and pains were explained by a simple virus or ear infection. When “she checks out healthy” was the conclusion of my doctor’s appointments. But that time in my life was so far back, that I cannot remember. 20 years…. And I’m 22.

And I never thought it would end like this. After 20 years of fighting, one can only expect a happy ending. One can only dream of beating this and moving on…. To make some kind of colossal difference in this world and be famous for it. And maybe live a somewhat normal life on the side…


*What is normal? Can anyone even answer that question..? I doubt it. Self centered, unappreciative, gluttonous jerks.*


Not to turn my attitude around, but all of this is so surreal to me, that I can only naturally hang on to even the smallest bit of hope.

“I’ll get better…. I have to.” I say to myself. Every day. Every damn day for the last 20 years.

And its only human nature to feel hope for anything.


*I’m sorry for being so unkind up there…. I really am.*


But why this? Why Lyme Disease. I’m such an impulsive person, you’d think it would have been a little more random than this. I guess there’s still time to find out. Maybe not much, but enough. After 20 years of fighting this, and after 20 years of making it by, you’d really truly grow to believe it would be something else.

“She won’t make it to her 16th birthday..” they said.

“Something has to change, or…… or she’s not going to live.” They said.

Hey fucktards, its’ been 6 years since my 16th birthday. Almost 7.

Maybe I just hung on to make my point proven. Maybe it’s because I’m so damn stubborn. “You can’t tell me what to do….”

Maybe I want to do this again this time… and though chances are slimmer, I have my faith.

Because nothing is impossible with God. But everything is impossible without Him.

I cannot express to you what it feels like to have no control over anything in your own life. But I suppose I will have to find comfort in resting my life in the arms of God. Because at this point, that’s what it has come down to. Because the decision is beyond that of this world.

*I’m dying. .. ….*

12-4-12

My stomach has been sick for hours and sleep is looking impossible tonight. Sitting in bed playing old school arcade games on my laptop brings back melancholic memories.
I’m unable to lie down. It’s as though acid reflux were keeping me from doing so, but the pain is so much more than that. The feeling is similar to that of a stomach virus except without the body aches and everything else that comes with. My body’s temperature keeps fluctuating from hot to cold as if it isn’t content with either one. A small bead of sweat slowly creeps down my face as I persistently try to shift my concentration elsewhere but fail miserably.

I doze off for a second or two while leaning against the headboard of the bed. I hear my phone beep and as I look over to check the text I feel somewhat queasier than I had before. Yep. I was going to puke.

This was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. My ultrasound for my gallbladder was on Monday, but only being Tuesday night I wasn’t willing to wait that long in this kind of agony. I tiptoed down the hall to my mother’s bedroom to awaken her and let her know that I’d be at the hospital. It may have been 2AM but sleeping was useless anyways.

As I made my way down the stairs I began to feel a bit lightheaded. I was definitely going to puke now. I walk into the kitchen to grab a quick glass of water for afterwards and a wet towel for my sweating forehead. My dad was half awake lying on the couch when he questioned my appearance so late into the night. “What’s wrong Megan? What are you doing up? It’s nearly 2:30 in the morning…”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.. I am going to puke..” I mumbled while making my way to the bathroom. I’m walking past the couch where he lays and I find myself looking over at him briefly. In that moment my head felt even hotter and my entire body began to sweat. I could hear soft mumbling noises in the background but sound was growing dim. Sound became nonexistent. I shifted my weight towards the couch for something to grasp.. I lost hold of my glass.

“Megan, I’m soaked!! This water is cold! Megan! Are you alright?? What is going on??? Megan????!”

I hear the sound of my dad’s voice with frustration and annoyance. I come to realize that I’m slumped halfway over the couch. Just starting to gain consciousness back.. “I’m really sorry dad.. I’m really sorry…” I squeak out… But there was no sound. I stand up and make a motion at grabbing the counter top nearby and say “I can’t hear anything, dad. I can’t hear…”

Everything goes black.

I open my eyes and I’m on the ground where I once stood.. I’m completely drenched. I was lying in a puddle of water and was soaked to the bone as if I had just stepped out of a swimming pool. What was going on?

I see a light on in the foyer and hear my dad’s voice frantically yelling. “Rochelle, ROCHELLE! Wake up!! Come quick! I can’t get Megan up. Rochelle something is wrong. She’s passed out cold.”

I hear my little girl’s soft cry emerge from her room as she awoke from all of the chatter going on. I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and stand up. Everything is in tunnel vision as I make my way over to the staircase. I only managed to get out “Is Autumn alright? Is everything alright?”

Everything goes black.

Once more I find myself on the ground, except this time in the foyer. What was happening to me? I see my mom coming down the stairs saying “Bruce, she’s awake. She’s awake.” I look around the room confused and as I try to stand again my world goes black once more.

I’ve given up this time. I awake on the floor with a pillow under my head. The pillow is sopping wet. My mom is holding my hand and looking at me with worried eyes. “Megan, stay there. Don’t try to move.”

That’s when they start. The convulsions. Those terrible unwelcoming convulsions…. How I hate having them. I had gone over a month without having one and this just ruined my record.

Once my body had stopped I began to cry. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to know what was happening to me but nobody around me had any answers…. And the look on people’s faces when they’re terrified..

Its’ one thing to see someone terrified about something, and it’s a whole other ball game when that person is terrified about what is going to happen to you. It’s an “Oh shit” moment to the extreme. It’s a “What the hell do I do now?” moment.

The voices… the talking… Everything is happening around me and all I can seem to grasp is that 911 had been called. I’m helpless and quite frankly, it sucks.
As I see the lights speed up the driveway I try to come to my senses more and more. Two men walk in and each one immediately begin hooking me up to things. I have my eyes closed as the light makes them burn. Everywhere else had become numb. I had gone into complete shock of the situation. The men kept asking me questions… the same questions… over and over. They wouldn’t let me go a minute without talking to them or answering to them. The last thing I felt like doing at that moment was to talk when I had no idea what was going on.

I attempt to stand to get onto the stretcher and I feel my head start to spin. I kept losing my focus as they strap me in tight. They continue to ask me those questions… I continue to attempt to answer. The entire way there was just question after question. There was no silence. There was no peace. Just a meaningless conversation of undesirable questions.

All of this to find out that I have a cyst.

To go to a hospital to be questioned more about my Lyme than anything else.. As if Lyme Disease had never been heard of before.

To think to myself, could all of that really have been caused by a cyst? Is the Lyme a factor? Or something else that we don’t yet know of?

My unanswered questions make me nervous. I’m only 22.

And then I know that I’ll have to answer. I’ll have to find answers for family and friends. I’ll have to provide them with the information they seek and make them aware of the situation and comfortable with it. I am regretful of this, because it just makes the public see me more of a cripple than they already do.

In my mind I’m this young and healthy girl with goals and aspirations. With spunk and energy. With a crave for adventure and never turning down an opportunity to be so.


But in reality, I’ll probably never been seen as that girl.. I’ll never be given the chance to truly be me.

12-2-12

I wonder what it feels like to not be tired. It’s been so long.

5 days since I started the Doxycycline.

5 days and I’m waiting.. Hoping.. To feel better.

After this, I’m out of ideas.

Someone boil me a bathtub of water so that I can lay in it and burn the ill away. The night time body aches are so severe and I’m refusing pain medicine the way a junkie would heroin. Though, I may have just a slight upper hand when it comes to my will power vs. a junkie’s will power.

It’s not that I “need” the pain medicine because I “want” it, it’s because I feel like the entire perimeter of my body is bursting into flames and being pierced by knives all at once.

Rant.

Give me a diversion.

End rant.

I can’t help but to laugh at myself as my thoughts wander. “It’s not that you’re terribly uninteresting but…… Did you see that man wearing a top hat and monocle riding along on that Clydesdale?”


Just kidding...

But in my mind there probably was a man wearing a top hat and monocle while riding a Clydesdale. And you can’t blame me for getting distracted by something as interesting as that.

..................................................

There I go again losing my head.