Giving Back Would Be the Best Christmas Gift of All
Last week, my husband Frank, our daughter Olivia, and I started getting out our holiday decorations. We were very excited to celebrate, because last year, lupus quite simply stole our holiday. We were determined that this year was going to be different. We decided to play Christmas music, dance and sing, and change the house into a winter wonderland. We were having so much fun. It felt like we were the picture perfect family! I watched as my husband helped my daughter hang ornaments high up on the tree by lifting her up on his shoulders. I took a moment to flip through an envelope of Christmas pictures that I found from last year. I barely took pictures last year. It was a year I didn’t want to remember.
You see, three weeks before Christmas last year, my lupus caused swelling around my spine and I had NO feeling from the waist down. Can you imagine how frightening that was? The doctors had no idea what was going on at first, so I felt like a “science experiment.” For 17 days, instead of baking cookies and visiting Santa with my 2-year-old daughter, I was trapped in a cold hospital room. My doctors tried numerous treatments until they finally sent me home 20lbs heavier, with a bloated and distorted face, from steroids. We’d resorted to chemotherapy, and I was feeling the side effects. I was weak and nauseous and “chemo-brain” was making it hard to remember anything. So, because of lupus, time and memories that can never be replaced were stolen from us. I was in pain and exhausted, but I wanted to at least have a festive, decorated Christmas tree for my precious daughter.
As I flipped through the small pile of photos, I was immediately drawn to one picture in particular: there was my little Olivia in a bright colorful striped “footie” pajama. Her eyes were shining and the Christmas tree lights were reflected in her big beautiful brown eyes. It made them sparkle like diamonds. Her little hands, those perfect little hands whose fingers I’d kissed every day since she was born, are reaching up as she playfully starts climbing. I’m so totally enchanted by her complete happiness…her infectious smile…that I almost forget that she is playfully climbing onto my wheelchair. My wheelchair! Olivia is a typical toddler who loves to run, jump, and climb. Playing around and on my wheelchair was something she did and thought it was silly. Unfortunately, for her seeing medical supplies of some kind in the living room is normal. But it is NOT normal. This is NOT what I want for her and my family. It breaks my heart.
I’ve lived with lupus for over 18 years. It sometimes makes it literally impossible to get out of bed in the morning. I’ve learned to hide disfiguring rashes with makeup and the bald spots with hair extensions. Scheduling my day around the 36 medications I have to take each day is “normal” to me? Since I have had lupus over half my life, I really do not remember what it feels like to be healthy. I’ve been hit with pain and fatigue so immense I could only curl up and cry. It’s obvious that lupus has greatly affected my life both physically and emotionally. What might not be so obvious is that lupus not only crept into my life leaving destruction in its path, but lupus has shattered memories, weighted down hope, and fractured relationships in my family. These are the people I LOVE, but through no fault of their own, this horrible disease has injected fear, pain, and uncertainty into all of our lives.
I have been thinking a lot about family, gift giving and the holidays as we all do during this time of year. You can wrap anything up in fancy paper and a pretty bow and it looks like a good present. But is it a gift? I’d like to share with you the gifts I wish I could give my family this year.
If I had the chance, I would give my parents the gift of peace. Lupus brought a level of stress into my parents’ lives they could have never imagined. They spent the better part of my life worrying about my health, my life and my future. They have carried the burden of added health expenses, not once letting me “in” on the secret debt they were developing. They spent countless hours researching and desperately trying to find a diagnosis for their ailing teen daughter. Sweet dreams and restful sleep were replaced by sleepless nights when you are anticipating your child calling from the other room that they are in pain, or feel a fever… Hearing your child cry in pain is a heartbreaking, unbearable sound.
No parent wants a sick child. I am sure my parents looked at me with a world of possibilities for my future like I do for my daughter. They had to grieve the death of the dreams they had for me and find a new way, a new life. It makes me sad that even now that I’m grown up, because of lupus they are never done parenting… My father helped watch my daughter Olivia for almost her whole first year of life, every morning since I was unable to care for her myself. I have to call my mother when I am hurting, depressed, or even need help doing laundry and cleaning the house. I simply would have no clean clothes if my mother didn’t help me. I hate to even say this out loud but most days I can not function if I do not have some help.
My parents should be enjoying retirement at this age; I should be starting to take care of them, but I still need help and they still worry because nothing has changed for me. I may have grown up, but the toxic treatments and the cruel symptoms of lupus are still the same.
I would give my brother the gift of friendship. I know it must have been hard to lose my parents’ attention when he was doing good things, only to see the outpouring of attention and love to me when I was so sick. There are only so many hours in a day and unfortunately many of my parents hours were with me in doctor’s offices, in waiting rooms, in hospitals, getting home schooled, and even just helping me do everyday tasks. I didn’t ask for visitors, gifts or flowers, but when they came to the house they were for me. I can’t help but wonder if lupus stole our friendship. I want my brother back and I need his friendship. I am working hard to mend the broken relationship I have with my brother, but at what point are there too many hurt feelings, too many scars to overcome? I look at pictures of us younger and see how my brother always had his hand around my shoulder, or was looking out for me. Maybe he always felt guilty that this was the one thing he couldn’t protect me from? Maybe because he was 5 years older than me, he knew about all the stress and financial hardship my parents were going through, that my youth shielded me from? Maybe as a teenager, he never really understand why his sister couldn’t wake up in the morning or couldn’t “pull her weight” with chores? Maybe he still doesn’t understand? Maybe he just doesn’t care? More than anything, I wish I could give him a childhood not dominated by my illness. I wish he could see me as an adult, as a person he respects, not just a sister but a friend.
I never know what to get my husband Frank for Christmas… I guess that is a problem many wives have. I was in a remission when we dated, and I gave him some of the best years of me and didn’t even know it. I didn’t appreciate my working body and my seemingly limitless energy. I gave him time, thoughtfulness, and even sexiness. We didn’t know or appreciate what a remission even meant until my disease got worse. I sense fear when he touches me almost as if he has been conditioned not to by the winces of pain he has seen across my face. Sometimes with lupus even the slightest touch hurts, and most times it hurts your soul to never feel “good touch”. Even holding hands hurts when each joint is aching… so slowly you just stop trying.
When in your wedding vows you say “in sickness and in health”, you never dream it will be mostly sickness. We had dreams of a beautiful future like any newly married couple does. Our reality might be that my body can’t handle having more kids, but we dreamt of a big family. Our real lives might be filled with some tension and stress about all the things I can’t do daily, but we always used to talk about all the things we had planned for our future. We have spent holidays in hospitals and we have slept on the floor because I could not walk up the stairs. My husband has learned how to deal with insurance companies and dole out medications better than a pharmacist. Frank has washed my hair when I couldn’t lift my arms, and has taken care of our house and daughter with enough energy for two parents when I am not able. The funny thing about living with lupus is that I never have lupus in my dreams. This is not the life we wanted; this is not the marriage we dreamed of. He takes care of me, and I feel guilty for it.
This year, after years of slowly becoming caregiver and patient, I would like to give my husband the gift of love and becoming husband and wife again. This year I want my husband to have his wife back.
I dreamt of my daughter Olivia way before she was even born. I imagined I would be the perfect mother and be able to take care of her every need. I wasn’t able to be the cute pregnant girl with a belly, who gets to shop for and prepare a nursery. I had a pregnancy filled with fear that she would make it and that I could even stay pregnant. I was stuck lonely on bed rest and was hospitalized 4 times. I didn’t imagine needing as much help as I do to raise her. I could never have imagined the amount of guilt I would have for needing to put her in daycare because mornings were too hard for me to function. I do the very best I can, I love my daughter with every fiber of my being, but I can’t simply love her enough to magically get her to school, to wake up in the middle of the night if she cries or to carry her up the stairs to put her to bed at night. If love was enough I could be the mother I always wanted to be, but love isn’t enough to stop lupus.
Lupus has stolen time together with my daughter Olivia, time that she is being watched and cared for by other people then me and time when I am in the hospital, not home with her. She even came to this world early because of lupus and we lost that precious pregnancy time to bond and to let her little body grow. But she was a fighter from the very beginning and proved everyone wrong. I would like to think she is a little like her mother. My body might be weak, but my soul is strong.
It might sound like Olivia is too young at 3 years old to give the gift of hope, but she is the perfect age. You are never too early to put hope where there once was none. I am hoping that having lupus in her life will have some positives like teaching her compassion, empathy and a desire to help others. I would like to think that because we have had to spend so many nights in, that it has brought us closer as a family. I want Olivia to have hope for a better future and a world where the lupus she knows about is so drastically different then the one I knew. In her little life with lupus one of her first words was medicine, not ball or cat, but she knew my pill case and she associated the word “medicine”. That is a memory that can’t be erased, but I can have hope that she will never have to associate the words “fatal”, “chronic”, or “incurable” with lupus. I am hoping in her lifetime everything I know about lupus will be archaic. I do not want to imprison her with the job and the future of taking care of her mother. I want to teach her peace, friendship, love and hope. I want to be here and I want to teach her these important lessons. Lupus has stolen so much time from me and Olivia already, and although it may sound dismal I always have in the back of my head that we do not know what the future holds. We do not know how much time I will have with Olivia because right now there is no cure for lupus. In the past 50 years little has changed for anyone living with, or loving someone with lupus.
Yes, my gift to my daughter would definitely be Hope. Hope for a new treatment. Most of all I want to give her hope that something will change… maybe, just maybe in her lifetime things might get better.
I think the feeling you get from giving is better then from receiving. I know that lupus has affected my whole family and even my friends. I know that at times lupus has hurt us at the very core of who we are.
If I was able to give the gift of peace, friendship, love and hope to the people I love most in my life that would be the best Christmas gift of all.
Written by Christine Miserandino
If you would like to see more from Christine Miserandino, click here to see her read “The Spoon Theory”.
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