10 Ways That Living with a Chronic Illness is Like Training for the Olympics

Update 8/18/2016 – This article was featured on  TheMighty.com website on August 9, 2016, which is such a huge honor. Thank you all for your continued love and support.

If you’d like to read the shorter, edited version of this post on The Mighty’s Website, please visit https://themighty.com/2016/08/how-training-for-olympics-is-like-having-a-chronic-illness/


As a patient who has not only been diagnosed with multiple rare forms of chronic illness and as a former athlete that competed on the national level in swimming,  I feel that I offer a unique perspective as to how some aspects of day-to-day life are quite similar between the polar opposites of having a chronic illness and training to compete in the Olympics. Here are some of the

Top 10 Ways That Living with a Chronic Illness

is Like Training for the Olympics:

10. You’re friends and family don’t understand why you never hang out with them. 

Obviously, training for the Olympics requires a great deal of  time and dedication. In an effort to become one of the top athletes in the country,  sacrifices have to be made and one of the first things to go is generally your social life. Spending months at a time at training camps or traveling for competitions takes you away from your family and most days it was far too tiring to even think about going out and socializing with my friends, let alone actually doing it.

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Now that I have a chronic illness, there are days when I can barely walk to the bathroom by myself, let alone take a shower. I’m lucky if I make all of my scheduled doctor appointments or medical tests even though I have assistance in getting there since I can no longer drive. Having a social life on top of it – that’s honestly asking too much of myself. The majority of people can’t understand how truly difficult it is to do the basic things that many people take for granted, such as going to the grocery store or cooking dinner. When you become sick while still young, though, the discrepancies between living a so-called normal life and that of “the sick life” are far more dramatic in comparison. Friends just simply don’t have the capacity to comprehend why their formerly “fun friend” is suddenly stuck at home on the couch. As they say – you don’t really get it until you get it.

9. You’re always tired, regardless of how much you sleep. 

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When you’re working your body hard, either to make your Olympic dreams come true or to merely make it through the day, fatigue seems to have a tendency continually build up to the point where you don’t know what it’s like to NOT feel tired anymore. No matter how much you sleep – it could be 8 hours, 12 hours, or 2 hours – it all feels the same.

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Professional athletes are likely to suffer from a condition called Overtraining syndrome (OTS) if they work themselves too hard over a long period of time. As Kreher & Schwartz (2012) explain, “athletes train to increase performance. Performance increases are achieved through increased training loads. Increased loads are tolerated only through interspersed periods of rest and recovery—training periodization. Overreaching is considered an accumulation of training load that leads to performance decrements requiring days to weeks for recovery. Overreaching followed by appropriate rest can ultimately lead to performance increases. However, if overreaching is extreme and combined with an additional stressor, overtraining syndrome (OTS) may result. OTS may be caused by systemic inflammation and subsequent effects on the central nervous system, including depressed mood, central fatigue, and resultant neurohormonal changes” (p. 128). However, depending on the pathophysiology and etiology of the condition, a number of treatment options are available, including hormone therapy, cognitive or physical therapies, stress management, and prolonged periods of rest.

Prolonged fatigue in chronic illness generally comes from the medical condition itself but other factors that come along with  the illness can also influence a person’s physical, emotional, and social lifestyle in a way the creates additional fatigue as well. For example, sleep patterns can be affected by conditions like dysautonomia or autoimmune disease. While there are some strategies available for managing the fatigue that result from the various conditions of having a chronic illness or pain, once again it really just depends on the type of condition that is causing it. Delegating duties to friends or family members, practicing stress-reducing technique or and good sleep behaviors, and taking a lot of breaks throughout the day can help to a degree. In most cases, though, chronic feelings of fatigue cannot be cured or treated unless  the underlying condition is cured or goes into remission.

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8. You’re usually awake to see the sunrise.

Olympians often start training in the early hours of the morning, long before the rest of the world is even awake.

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Those with a chronic illness are often awake this early in the morning as well – mostly because they haven’t gone to bed yet due to high levels of pain or because they spent most of the evening lying on the bathroom floor.

7. You’ve become really good at hiding how you  really feel.

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In order to be seen as a “good sport”, athletes sometimes have to cover their disappointment in their performance by shaking the hands of their opponent.

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Those with chronic conditions tend to hide their illness by responding that they’re “fine” while they keep a smile on their face, even though they may feel like they’re dying on the inside.

6. It’s just like having a full-time job but without the weekly paycheck.

Potential Olympians train both day and night to achieve their dreams of competing in the Olympics. When I was in training, I’d have practice in the morning before school, strength and/or weight training immediately after school, and then practice again in the evening before I went home to do homework and rush off to bed. Also, I either went to practice or to a competition on both days of the weekend as well.

As a chronic illness patient, I spend most of my time calling doctors offices, faxing recordings, fighting insurance companies, researching treatment options, and recovering from various surgeries or treatments that are often difficult in and themselves. I also spend a lot of time going from one appointment to another, shuffling from one specialist to another, going through this medical test or that treatment plan, one hospital visit after another hospital – it’s exhausting.

5. You make plans way ahead of time.

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When you’re training for the Olympics, everything is planned months ahead of time – sometimes even years in advance. This includes everything from what competitions you’ll compete in and the travel plans to go to such events to the training schedule you follow throughout the year.

Making plans when you have a chronic illness also requires a lot of preparation. As a rule, I try not to commit to anything unless I absolutely have to. On those rare occasions that I do make plans to hang out with  friends or family, every detail is planned out way ahead of time and every potential or possibility needs to be accounted for. However, considering that most of my symptoms can change substantially in the blink of an eye, most efforts to plan anything are basically futile. More often than not, I have to cancel these plans at the last-minute anyways – leaving me to feel guilty or worthless because of my illness.

4. Proper nutrition and hydration are imperative to your ability to function.

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One of the most important elements of training for the Olympics is good nutrition. If you want to reach your peak performance, it’s import to follow a well-balanced diet. It’s  also important to stay hydrated both before and after practice so that you don’t become ill or injured simply by losing important nutrient and electrolytes from pushing your body passed its  physical limitations. According to an article in Men’s Fitness Magazine (2014), “for Olympic-level performance and off-the-chart energy, you must eat properly including eating a breakfast of complex carbohydrates and lean protein, then eat again every 3-4 hours and within 90 minutes of working out. Consume half your bodyweight in fluid ounces of pure water and if exercising intensely or for long duration, consume a sports-drink to replenish electrolytes” (para. 2).

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Similarly, some of my diagnosed conditions require extreme effort and dedication to dietary guidelines in order to thrive. For instance, my vascular surgeon identified that has malnutrition after years of not really eating due to a combination of pain and early satiety caused by a rare condition called Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome (or SMA Syndrome). In order to survive the life-saving surgery that I need in the upcoming months, I was sent to a dietician to bring up my nutritional blood screens so that I could have the surgery to fix the compression of my SMA, as well as the other three rare vascular compression syndromes I have as well, including Nutcracker Syndrome, May-Thurner Syndrome, and Pelvic Congestion Syndrome. However, because the third portion of my duodenum is being compressed by the SMA, food becomes obstructed as it tries to move into my small intestines.Therefore, the dietician had to be somewhat creative in prescribing a diet of foods that could move past the compression. Currently, my daily dietary regimen consists of:

  • Multiple “shots” of either a protein shake or Carnation Breakfast Essentials (I do “shots” because I can’t drink 8 to 16 oz a day in one or two sittings without getting sick).
  • 2 small jars of organic baby food – levels 1 and 2 only.
  • 1 pouch of pureed baby food
  • 2 tablespoons of peanut butter.
  • 2 high-calorie coffee drinks from Starbucks (to maintain/gain weight).
  • 1 yogurt packet.
  • As many pretzels, crackers, or chips I can handle.
  • Popsicle or Italian ice – only if I can manage it as well.

For another condition, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (or POTS Syndrome), I require a high intake of  both water and electrolyte drinks (e.g., Pedialyte) to help increase blood volume and prevent dehydration, along with a high sodium (or salt) diet to keep my blood pressure  high enough so that I don’t faint multiple times in a single day .

All day long, all it feels like all I do is eat and count calories. One bite here, another sip there – it’s honestly exhausting! Especially when you spent years actively avoiding food since it was the source of so much pain.

3. You prepare yourself to be strong mentally.

In any form of competition, you have to be strong not only physically but mentally as well. According to an article by Sports Psychology Today (2011),”mental preparation helps athletes achieve a focused, confident and trusting mindset to help them compete at their highest level” (para. 2). While some athletes use meditation, others prefer to listen to music for motivation. I always preferred visualization when I was able to compete. As Handel (2012) explains, “in preparation for a game, athletes will run through different situations in their imagination as a kind of mental rehearsal. This way, when they are confronted with the situation in real-life, their mind is already primed to respond to the situation in an effective way…Contrary to common misconceptions, visualization is most effective when athletes focus on the process rather than the outcomes” (para. 11 and 13)

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Essentially, I use this very same strategy to manage life as a professional patient as well. After years of doctors telling me that my symptoms were caused by anxiety or depression, I mentally prepare for all appointment by preparing notes and deciding what I want to say ahead of time. Then I formulate counter-arguments based on current medical research to make sure that my concerns are taking seriously. Sometimes I need to prepare myself mentally before I gain enough courage to go ahead  with a certain medical test or an experimental treatment plan simply because it makes me nervous for whatever reason. There are some days that my symptoms can be so bad that mental preparation becomes necessary just to make it out of my bed.

2. You can handle high levels of pain like a champion.

For the most part, nearly every competitive sport out there involves feeling pain in some, way, shape, or form. For instance, pain and injury could result from overworking yourself during practice or you could suffer a really bad head injury during competition. Although I never personally got severely hurt in competitive swimming, aside from the ocassional ear infections and a pulled muscle or two, other sports I did over the years did result in extreme forms of pain and injury. In cheerleading, for example, I suffered from 6 concussions, a broken nose, a fractured jaw, and two broken ankles – all in the span of a single season. Even with broken bones, though, I still performed  because I was the captain and I didn’t want to let my squad down.As the old adage goes, no pain – no gain, right?

It is the same with chronic illness. Often we feel pressure to do things we know we shouldn’t do but we do anyways because we either feel guilty or think that it’s an expectation. Additionally, since we experience high levels of pain almost each and every day, we have learned to handle our pain much better than the average person. When I started receiving Botox injections for migraines, for instance, my neurologist commented about how I was her favorite patient because I didn’t even flinch once as she injected needles into various places across my face, forehead, and neck. I’ve also had nurses surprised that I would barely move when they would blow a vein during a catheter placements or the fact that I didn’t cry when I had a biopsy taken from my scalp without any form of sedation (not even a local), which was later cauterized with colloidal silver instead of the normal placement of sutures. Really, it’s not that you don’t feel the pain anymore – it’s just that you handle pain better now because you’ve dealt with it for so long.

1. There’s strong camaraderie between you and your team members/fellow spoonies.

When the entirety of your life is spent training and competing, often the only people you get to see regularly is your fellow team members. Basically, they become your new family since you spend every waking moment together and they understand what you’re going through.

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When you’re sick, it can be hard to relate to people who are healthy. We feel judged by others because of our illnesses and most people can’t understand what it’s like to be chronically ill. This includes the majority of  our closest friends, family members, and doctors as well. The only people who get it are other spoonies or warriors that have gone through what you’ve gone through, and therefore  understand where you’re coming from.The chronic illness community offers a lot of support to members because we all know what it’s like to be alone or afraid. We’re so tight-knit that we have developed our own language, laugh at our jokes, and establish rules that most outsiders are unlikely to be conscious of unless they’re given an explanation. Even then, it’s hard to understand because they have experienced as much as we have. In a way, it makes up for all that’s been lost to chronic illness. Like a secret society, but one that nobody chose to join by their own accord – it’s simply involuntary recruitment into this life.



References:

Edger, M. (2011). Five tips for mental preparation. Sports Psychology Today. Retrieved from http://www.sportpsychologytoday.com/youth-sports-psychology/five-components-of-mental-preparation/

Men’s Fitness Magazine (2014). Fitness Secrets of Olympic Athletes. Retrieved from http://www.mensfitness.com/training/pro-tips/fitness-secrets-of-olympic-athletes

Handel, S. (2012). The Emotion Machine. Retrieved from http://www.theemotionmachine.com/4-mental-exercises-olympic-athletes-use-to-gain-that-extra-edge

Kreher, J.B. & Schwartz, J.B. (2012). Overtraining Syndrome: A practical guide. Sports Health, 4(2), 128-138. doi:  10.1177/1941738111434406

It’s Alright Not to Feel Okay…

For the most part, I try to stay positive about what I post on this blog. But, as most of you already know, life with a chronic illness is hard and it is definitely not always sunshine and rainbows as one might think – although I do believe that both would make things slightly easier to handle, don’t ya think? Nevertheless, there are just some things that come along with living “the sick life” that truly shake you to the core sometimes. For me, it’s hearing about other patients that have the same (or similar) diagnosis and have passed away as a result. I posted the following on my personal Facebook page a little while ago but felt it was important to share on this page as well. Sometimes you just have to say what’s on your mind because it’s good for the soul. In a way, venting allows me to grieve – not only on behalf of those that have passed but also for myself.


Sometimes I get so tired of hearing about my fellow warriors dying because their pain was not taken seriously or they couldn’t find the help that they needed. It’s becoming way too common lately and just thinking about how others have been treated because of their illness – hell, how I’ve been treated at times – makes me both physically and emotionally sick.

Trust me when I say that majority of people can’t even begin to comprehend the level of pain that those of us with vascular compressions live with each and every day. Or how much has been lost as a result of illness? Although I don’t necessarily agree, I can absolutely understand why many have chosen to take their own life.

Honestly, I’ve been lucky. It took a lot to just simply survive. Being misdiagnosed could have killed me. So could have all the wrong medications, treatments, and surgeries that have been offered to me along the way. I had to educate myself and challenge my care at every single step along the way. I’ve had to stand up to my doctors. I’ve had to fire some doctors. I’ve had to prove myself over and over again – prove that I was, in fact, sick; that I wasn’t imagining the pain – just so that my concerns would be heard and taken seriously. So that someone would help. Basically, I’ve had to fight with every bit of strength left inside of me just to get to where I’m at today – and no, I’m not better yet.

Obviously, this hasn’t been easy and I’m still in pain almost every day. Yet, somehow, I still hear that I’m not actually sick or that I’m not sick “enough”, even though test after test show’s that something’s seriously wrong and has been for a while. Eventually, something has got to give in the way we do medicine, especially when it comes to managing chronic or rare conditions. The gender bias in treating young women needs to stop as well.

No, it’s not anxiety! It’s not depression! And it’s definitely not in my goddamn head! These conditions are real and you would know that if you took a minute to listen.

Mostly, though, I’m angry – angry that this is somehow okay; that this is acceptable. I’m also incredibly sad as well. These tragedies could have been avoided. Most of these deaths are senseless. Something could have been done. The worst part, however, is that nobody cares. I repeat: nobody gives a damn.

Do you think the doctors cared when they heard that their patient had died? I doubt it.

Do you think the friends or family members who left when the person became ill and couldn’t get out anymore really cared? Not enough, obviously.

What about all the other people in their life who judged them, told them to try harder – to do more – to be more- to stop being lazy? Do you think they cared at all, really?

I cared, though… I still care.

Part of this is selfish, though, because I think about how easily that could have been me – and could still be me someday. I hear about the others just like me dying so frequently lately that the idea of death no longer scares me – it’s just par for the course at this point. How sad is that? I tell you, having a chronic illness makes you jaded.

I’m really trying not to be negative, but I’m so incredibly frustrated and disgusted that I just needed to vent. I just hope someone out there is listening.

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Whenever you need or want somebody to listen, I’m here. Just send me a message either here or on the Undiagnosed Warrior Facebook Page – I’d be more than happy to hear your story anytime.

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National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Magnet, SVP05-0126

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Magnet

Please keep fighting fellow warriors!

Unbound the Wild Ride

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This ride that takes me through life
Leads me into darkness but emerges into light
No one can ever slow me down
I’ll stay unbound”

Despite having a rough start this morning, I did wake up feeling a lot less emotional about the future prospects of my healthcare. I knew these feelings wouldn’t last too long, they never do, but I am glad the darkness has finally passed. After I woke up super early to take the foster dog to the vet clinic to get neutered today (which was cancelled, as he is still too skinny to go under anesthesia), I came home, finished an assignment for school, and then spent the good majority of the day napping. I think I just needed to catch up on some rest to find myself again. I often tend to keep pushing and pushing myself until I finally break down, both physically and emotionally. 

“Sometimes when we’re young, and always on the run
It gets so dark and I know that place yeah
So don’t be too concerned, you’ve got a lot to learn
Well so do I and we’ve got plenty of time yeah
Don’t fall off the track yet with so many races to go
Hold on”

After my much-needed slumber, I went to a follow-up  appointment with my primary care doctor. I brought all the updated, abnormal test records from the last month or so. She seemed quite elated that the specialists were finally getting close to a diagnosis and that there is finally some answers. She believes there is a hidden autoimmune issue going on, perhaps still Lupus, but I may just be lucky enough to be seronegative autoimmune (where I do have autoimmune disease, but it won’t ever clearly show in my blood work).  I asked her about a referral to another vascular surgeon for a second opinion. She said she didn’t think it was necessary, as the cardiologist seems to have everything under control and could do possibly do the surgery himself, as many vascular surgeons and cardiologists work either closely together or doctor may be trained in both areas. At first I was confused about this statement and got kind of frustrated, thinking to myself, really? She won’t give me a referral? But I guess it makes sense. I told her what the vascular surgeon originally had said, about how these conditions don’t really exist and that if they did actually exist, there was no way I could have all of them (despite the CTA results). She looked at the report and says it clearly shows I have them, and that sometimes specialists often don’t have the best ‘bedside manner’. Her theory is that he is set in his ways and is probably a great surgeon “for horses” but not for “zebras”.

She did tell me, that doctors often forget that we don’t know what happens “behind the scenes” in cases that are as rare as mine. Typically, the doctors up at the specialty hospital are more than likely doing research and setting up my move over to the dysautonomia clinic in Denver. She says there, I will see even more specialized-specialists (I assume like an electrocardiologist, etc.) and she wants me to hang tight for now and be patient (easier said than done), that they will probably have a vascular surgeon on hand (or fly one in) who is more knowledgeable on these types of conditions. Many times, she said, while I am supposedly just waiting for the last of the test to “rule out the final things”, the doctors are preparing and researching the next steps in creating a plan of action for when I transition to the “next level” (a new, more specialized clinic). I hope she is right. Maybe I worked myself up for nothing, but this wasn’t the first time I’ve experienced this situation with doctors over the years.  I’m trying to not get my hopes up again, but maybe she knows more than she is telling me. I guess I’ll do my best to hang in there until I follow-up with the cardiologist in a few weeks. 

“Some live so wrong, with what we do is each his own
But living in fear, endless shame for countless years
I never lived in fear I knew I’d die another day
I never viewed my life as something… slipping away”

Tomorrow I go back to the specialty hospital for a hydrogen-methane breath test to see if I have SIBO (small intestine bacterial overgrowth) or food intolerances. I’m not hopeful on this test, but again, it’s one of the final GI tests left to do.

You can read about this testing here.

The hardest part is always the waiting. I need to try and remember to live the best I can in the meantime, no matter how frustrated or tired I get with the process. Just sometimes, I feel my life is just passing me on by and I get scared that it will be too late before I reach the end of this road or that I will never ever truly live again. That’s a terrifying thought for me because there is so much still that I want and need to do in this life. But for now, I wait.

Unbound the Wild Ride

“There’s nothing here to take for granted
with each breath that we take
the hands of time strip youth from our bodies
And we fade
memories remain
as time goes on…”


Lyrics: Unbound the Wild Ride by Avenged Sevenfold

I shot for the sky, I’m stuck on the ground…

The sadness always follows a hard blow.

I know these feelings won’t last forever,

but it feels like it’s never going to get better. 

I feel like I am never going to get better.

It doesn’t help that I have been green with envy lately. One of the support groups I belong to for the compression syndromes has had multiple members just recently complete surgery or are scheduled to have it done soon. Despite the long recovery time, not to mention the pain and time spent in ICU, I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. I’m happy they have doctors that listen to them and are willing to do research. And that they will hopefully be getting better. But I can’t help but WISH that was me.

Yes, I said it.

I am in fact JEALOUS of other people who are sick

and having surgery.

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Am I absolutely crazy or what? 

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I know I shouldn’t compare myself to others, but really, though, I am just sad that I feel like my doctors aren’t concerned about how this illness is affecting my whole life and that it seems to be getting progressively worse. Maybe that’s unfair to say, but it’s how I feel.

I mean yes, they’ve finally run some tests and tried medications, but nothing has made a difference in how I feel. There has been no improvement or relief thus far. Not everything is being documented in my medical records, according to the notes I am perfectly fine (just like my blood work). When I do get abnormal tests, they are blown off as insignificant. How can I not be sad?

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I had to put my rabbits up for adoption (still searching for a home) because I can’t clean their cages adequately anymore. My hands are so raw from all the rashes, they hurt to hold anything (even typing on the computer causes pain). My joints are so stiff and I’m too weak to carry the giant cages outside to the trash. I feel like I am falling apart.

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All I  want is to feel better. I’m willing to do or try anything to have one day of comfort. I just keep feeling worse each day that goes by, but no one besides me seems concerned about this. I’m so sick every time I eat. The pain, especially tonight, is so horrible it HURTS to breath. With every inhale I take I feel like I am going to throw up. I’ve only eaten a handful of tortilla chips today because nothing else will go down. How is this ok? or normal?

Must just be in my head then, right?

I’ve tried to take my mind off my sadness by attempting  the tricks the cardiologist recommended to help with the POTS, through water and salt loading (drinking tons of fluids and eating/drinking large amounts of sodium), and low-grade exercise. So far, I haven’t noticed much a difference, but that could be due to the fact that my stomach doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with either food or water intake these last few days. I’ve also been “running” on the elliptical for about 15 minutes a day. Even though I am not “pushing myself” too hard, my heart rate exceeds 200 b.p.m in less than 5 minutes. Shortly after, the pre-syncope comes and I have to lay on the floor until my heart rate goes back down. Today, I decided to check my blood pressure after working out. I waited until I had sat for 10 minutes or so, and my blood pressure read 28/26, with a heart rate of 135. I’m pretty sure I should be dead, according to the chart. And yes, I ran it twice because I thought it was an error. I am not sure how I was upright then, but definitely I feel the effects now.

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I am not sure if I should keep going with it or wait until my cardio tests come back. I did finally get an appointment with my primary care physician for tomorrow to get another referral to vascular surgery. After three days of calling and getting connected to the answering machine (that has been full since Friday – and yes, it was the voicemail of no return as well), so I drove down to the office to make an appointment. Yes, this is absolutely ridiculous, but at least I finally have an appointment. More testing on Wednesday in the hospital. On the bright side, at least some of the doctors are still trying. I’m just so tired at this point, I”m ready for this all to be over, but it doesn’t look like that will be the case anytime soon.

I’m sorry for the depressing post, but I just needed to get this all out of my head.

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Living with a chronic illness isn’t always about the fight to be strong.

Or motivating others.

Sometimes the hardest part of the fight is just getting through the dark times.

The times you’re in so much pain it hurts to breathe or even cry. 

Luckily, these feelings don’t last forever…

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“Hang on, when the water is rising

Hang on, when the waves are crashing

Hang on, just don’t ever let go…” (Plumb)

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Keep Your Head Up, The Colors Are Beautiful

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Lot’s of new things on the horizon, so I figured I’d give a short update.

  • On UndiagnosedWarrior: Been updating and organizing pages, adding new information, noting some tips and tricks, and other things here and there. Take a look around and let me know what you think. I have some good ideas and really want to add more content for those looking for a diagnosis, as well as those who have already been diagnosed. And, of course, keeping you updated on my search for a diagnosis. 
  • On Life: I’m officially back out of work, but this time my short term disability has been approved. After the whole mess with getting a Lupus diagnosis, then having it taken away, then given back by a different doctor, I’m still confused as to whether or not I ACTUALLY have it.  I have a few tests pending and some recent tests that have come back with very interesting results (*Hint: It was enough to finally PROVE my disability claim). I’m waiting for the doctors to call to discuss their thoughts, so I don’t want to jump the gun on yet another diagnosis, so I’m going to wait to post, but I’ll update as soon as I can.

As for now,

I just want to leave you with the strength in knowing

 that all your struggles, all your hard work, and your persistence to keep looking 

IS WORTH IT!

I know it is hard to stay patient and that you are tired of waiting,

especially when  you have been sick for so long.

But waiting is always the hardest part. 

Keep trusting your instincts. 

Trust the journey.

You know your body better than anyone.

The answers lie WITHIN YOU.

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“Keep your head up
The colors are beautiful
When they say give up
Turn up your radio
All the sentimental memories you own
When they say grow up
It’s just like a funeral
Keep your head up
The colors are beautiful
Keep your head up
It’s all right in front of you
When they say wake up
You’re breaking ridicule
When all the sentimental memories you own
Keep you trapped inside your room there all alone

And it feels like
It feels like you’re lost
And it feels like
It feels like you’re lost

Is there some way you can be out on your own?
Trust yourself
Don’t waste another day at all

On your own

Keep your head up
The colors are beautiful
And it feels like
It feels like you’re lost
And it feels like
It feels like you’re lost

Is there some way you can be out on your own?
Trust yourself
Don’t waste another day at all

Watch this fade away
Everything fades away
Keep your head up
The colors are beautiful”

(“Head Up” by Sugarcult)