What is Normal? Am I Normal?
Recently, it has been suggested to me that because I am receiving treatments regularly, the treatments mean that I’m not really sick. The assertion is that on treatment, I lead a “basically healthy” life and that I am “pretty normal”. Well, let’s go ahead and examine this idea of normal:
- The Treatments. One Friday every four weeks I take the day off work for treatment. I have to explain to co-workers each month that no, I cannot respond to emails or dial into their conference calls because I will be at an infusion center. I will be surrounded by other patients and hooked up to an IV pump for 8 hours. I will call my company’s HR hotline to get my monthly confirmation number and explain why I will be out of the office all day. In addition to the 13 daily medications I take, I will now add an over-the-counter cocktail that my doctor and specialty pharmacist came up with to help with my reactions. I will time these meds precisely, or they will not work and a reaction will start. I will spend all day at the infusion center where the choice of activities is: sleeping, reading, playing on my smart phone, or staring at the white brick wall. Once they give you the IV Benadryl, it’s hard to read and you are often forced to sleep. The only food or drink there is what you bring with you. At the end of the 8 hours, my body is so exhausted from processing all of the fluids that it is difficult to walk to my car. Even my voice sounds tired and affected. I fight rush hour traffic to get home. Once home, I am physically exhausted but cannot sleep. No position is comfortable as I deal with leg cramps. The rest of my weekend will go as follows. Option A: I will be weak and tired all day Saturday and Sunday. I will be either in the bed resting or asleep. Option B: My trusty cocktail has failed, and I will have a reaction to the treatment. I will develop a histamine headache. The headache will be so severe that no pain killer or migraine medicine will touch it. Once the headache begins, the vomiting soon follows. I will spend 12 hours on Sunday with my head in the toilet. Soon, it is Monday and time once again to go back to work. Sounds like how most normal people spend one weekend a month, doesn’t it?
- The Fatigue. It is the number one complaint I hear from those of us with chronic illness. Unless you have experienced it, you have no idea. Before I was sick, I could do anything. I remember pulling all-nighters in college. I could do a whole marathon shopping day at the mall and then go out to a movie and dinner date at night. I could work an eight hour day and still do house cleaning or craft projects at night. No more. My most recent shopping trip? It started at 10am, and by noon, I needed to sit down. If I do something major like a college football game, the rest of the weekend is spent recovering in bed. If I have a big party or wedding to attend, I am resting up until the event so I am sure I will be able to go. After working a full time job, it’s all I can do just to eat dinner and get ready for bed. If I go out to dinner on a week night, I spend the rest of the week in bed by 7pm just to make up for it. And don’t even ask me about housework. Getting through the daily stack of mail can be challenging enough. Sounding normal yet?
- It’s Just a Cold. Normal people come down with colds. They miss a couple of days of work. For me, there is no such thing as a cold. When you pass a cold on to me, it manifests as pneumonia, pleurisy, acute bronchitis. For me, it is two weeks of short term disability, IV antibiotics or a possible hospital stay. Girlfriends I meet for dinner or the co-worker in the cube outside of my office hacking up a lung, they all say the same thing: “It’s just a cold. Calm down.” What they don’t know is what I heard at my most recent doctor’s visit: “Kelly, one good pneumonia or flu is all it’s going to take to kill you.” Normal worries so far.
- The Medications. As I mentioned earlier, I take 13 different medications every single day. Most are pills I swallow throughout the day. Twice a day I inject into my stomach. The injection sites sometimes bleed, so most of my clothes have blood stains on them. The meds have to be timed carefully. If they are not, I can vomit my next meal. It takes a long time each week filling up my pill organizer that I must remember to take with me everywhere I go. I have to keep up with 13 prescription refills so as to not run out. And let’s not even discuss how much all of these meds cost, most of which have no generic. I carry an excel spreadsheet list in my wallet of medications, doses, etc. at all times to hand to new doctors. All pretty normal, right?
So ok, admittedly I am very lucky that there are treatments for some of the illnesses I have. And mostly when you see me, I look pretty normal. And no, I don’t take that many sick days from work. And I do most things that normal people do. But for those suggesting that I’m not really sick, and that I’m pretty normal- would they like to trade places with me? How about for just a month? They’ll get the treatment, they’ll lead a “pretty normal life”. But if this is normal, you can have it.
Article written by Staff Writer, Kelly Clardy
Kelly lives in Atlanta with her husband and kitty. She developed PIDD in 1995, went undiagnosed until 2007, and has been receiving IVIG ever since. She also has: capillary hemangioma of the colon, chronic anemia, Hashimot’os disease, insulin resistance, and a host of other diagnosis. By day, she’s a Senior Project Coordinator and a Zebra. She can be found lurking on twitter, @collie1013 and on Facebook at Kelly Jaeckle Clardy.
-
Agatha Girauard
-
elizabeth
-
Ellie
-
Alex
-
Nancy Johnstone
-
Teresa Cook
-
natty
-
Elyce
-
Colleen
-
Fran
-
Collie1013
-
Emily Collingridge
-
Dottie Balin
-
michelle
-
zebra in california
-
Candy
-
Emily Collingridge
-
Miranda
-
Miranda
-
A Moms Choice
-
Nancy
-
Debbie
-
Elspeth
-
Amy
-
Crystal
-
Teresa
-
Shari Schindel
-
Rae
-
Leina Cooper
-
Kelli Deister
-
Nancy Johnstone
-
isabelle janicaud
-
Jenni
-
Cathy
-
Tonia
-
Lori
-
Jane doesntcare
-
Dale
-
Michelle
-
Tara
-
Amy
-
Dana
-
Maureen Mcgowan