I had no idea that when I grew up and began the journey for myself, that things would go the way they have, so far. Not that anyone ever does, really.
"Hey Sally, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
"I wanna be sick with so many things, all at the same time,
that shocked, open mouths become normal when telling about it,
and doctors among them!"
No, I've not heard that to be a standard conversation among those who actually talk about such things. Creativity and imagination are a vital part of healthy growth and development, but I'm fairly sure that few children tend to think that way, without unusual cause. And for good reason!
This is gonna have to have a long lead-in, or you won't understand my reasoning, perhaps. Please forgive the extended autobiography; maybe by the end you'll see there was a point in here, somewhere! (You could stop reading, you know!)
I did go through a period of time when I began to be deeply interested with Psychology, and fascinated with the way the mind works. Granted, this was mixed with dreams of Quantum and Molecular Physics, as well as Musical and Theater Performance, among other things...clearly I had a wide range of interests throughout my childhood!
However, while there have been rather clear obstacles that barred my abilities in other areas, my fascination with the mind and "heart" has granted me acquaintance with many amazing and incredibly beautiful minds and hearts, as well as a rather keen desire to help them in their journeys through this life.
I've known some fascinating (some occasionally dangerous) people; starting, according to stories my father told me, with my own mother. Evidently from the time I was a newborn, I could sense her "moods", and wouldn't cry unless I seriously needed something, and even then, quietly and with my mouth closed. He told me, years later, he and my mother had been in therapy and had sat down and identified something like 12 "personalities" she had within her.
Years later, still, under his custody after their divorce, I alone was witness to what I've since learned is called, "rapid switching between alters", as occurs sometimes in Dissociative Identity Disorder. As a child - in fact, until after she had died in 2006 - none of this, nor its cause, came forward to me, and since she had been all but gone from my life since I was an early teen, I didn't get a proper chance to know her as I would have liked. To this day I know very little of her, in fact. I had been taught to fear her and her mysterious, "mental illness" (cue the dramatic music), and so I did fear her, unfortunately, not knowing any better.
In addition to my own genetic and experiential quirks, I've become rather knowledgeable in a few, different veins along the lines of mental health. Alas, if only I could be licensed based on life experience only LOL!
This education of a lifetime seemed to be the most Life was going to give me, in terms of a life experience that was rich in details and colors, and quite frankly, I was perfectly okay with that! I was happily satisfied with the idea of voluntarily loving and helping others, based solely on experience, curiosity and "gut instinct".
However, Life has a funny way of throwing wrenches into the works of those who would otherwise be quite content with the challenges of their lives, sometimes!
Well, doesn't it?
As my mother's world was riddled with psychological challenges, my father's seemed bent more toward taxing him, physically. When I was 3 years old, he, at 41, had a severe heart attack, rendering him in need of one of the first, few artificial heart valves. Three years later, he was among a list of patients whose valves broke, and while he was able to pull his truck off the freeway and have the instincts to save himself, surgeons were required to do another, major surgery, this time through his left side, in order to fish out the broken fragment and try again.
Therefore, from as far back as I remember him (my earliest memory of him being in the hospital, hooked up to the machines), my father had been seriously ill. It was funny to hear the little, mechanical click-click of his heart, especially when he opened his mouth! As he and I lived together for the remainder of my childhood, I learned all about dietary restrictions (particularly when he was diagnosed with diabetes and other complications); medications; side effects; complications; medical procedures and how hospitals, intensive care units and cardiac centers worked. He was the beginning of what I would later learn was a medical pre-education for my own life's experience.
Quite honestly, I grew up thinking I wouldn't live to see 30. My mother had me when she was 34, and my father 38, and with all the health problems on both sides of my gene pool, there was no reason for me to expect that my lack of ability to imagine my life beyond that point meant anything but that I wouldn't be around. I also believed I, too, should I survive to around 40, would have a heart attack, and would simply cease life as we know it.
Now that I've reached the beginning of my late-30s, I must admit that milestone is all at once surprising, frightening and disorienting! My mother lost her own on her mother's 40th birthday, and she spent the years leading up to her own 40th with absolute terror. I was 29 when I lost her; 30 when my father followed her, and the many years before that, they lived, dying. It was a rather painful way to watch one's parents die, and I never knew how to be a proper daughter to them, so I know I never was. I wasn't in close contact with them, for various reasons, but I've always wished I could have been, all along.
So, there is the so-called, long-winded background to this post!
You're still with me? Goodness! What will I say next?! Maybe my point?
Nahhh! ;)
When I was 27, a scan was done on my torso, which (as a side-note at the time) discovered I had arteriosclerosis - it was advanced enough that calcification was seen on my aorta. I hadn't realized such a "hardening of the arteries" was possible...shows one example how the body can go wrong! This was another sign to me, that I was on my way toward an early heart attack, like my father's. Doctors have counseled me since, that other than taking care of myself through exercise and diet, there is nothing to be done about genetics, so it will go as it will go.
Now, keep in mind, this was expected!
What wasn't expected was all the garbage that would come after that!
Good grief!
To the best of my knowledge, autoimmune disease was one thing that does not run in either side of the gene pool! Vitiligo was diagnosed in my teens, but that wasn't more than a few, random, white spots and a couple of small scars after they biopsied some moles, just to be sure. A diagnosis of Celiac Disease in my early 30s was no sweat (despite the months of tears, standing in grocery stores), next to the likes of Interstitial Cystitis, which puts dietary restrictions to a whole, new level! A case of Hypermobility Syndrome, with no clear cause but possibly inherited from my mother, evident by both of us having "poppy knees" since we were teens, and now with other, clear signs of early-onset osteoarthritis in both and Fibromyalgia in me, possibly in her, as well.
The list goes on, but the point is, even without the threats inherent in Bipolar Disorder and other mental issues, I'm petty much doomed, one way or another. And the education I've had has been both painful and incredibly helpful, as my "medical team" struggles to figure out what is wrong when something new pops up, especially in my torso, abdomen and/or pelvis !
A short time ago, my doctor, husband and I spent some time discussing possibilities of what we thought seemed like classic symptoms of one thing, but that seem slightly unusual now, and so we now await preliminary test results to see what direction to follow, first. Again. It might be both shocking and amusing, to hear that my doctor simply ended up giving me a list of possible causes, in the meantime, so search engines could be our friend and I could gather information about each item, in order to get a better idea, beyond the test results! (When doctors are forced to follow a strict timeline, they can use all the help they can get, sometimes!)
*sigh* I hate looking up medical stuff! "_____ can result in _____."
Dang, I'd not like _____ to happen!
And whatever you do, don't accidentally click the "images" link
without a calm anxiety reflex and strong stomach!
Oh my; I really don't want _____ to happen!
All of this, just so you can find out that I'm not a fan of education by experience, unless it helps others, either in the process or after the fact! I'm sorry, that's just how I feel! And while I'm happy to share what I know with others, having to face it on my own is a rather daunting process. So far I don't have something as widely known, feared, lobbied and feverishly researched as other things, but while I would never wish this life experience on anyone, I'm not immune to wishing I'm not alone in the battle for my life.
I promise, however, this Project has more to do with reaching out so others don't feel so isolated, than simply a whine-fest for me. I think if you doubted that, you might not have read this far. So...thank you, if it means you believe in me. I certainly believe in you.
Better day, my friends.
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