Believe Me
Lauren Barrett
©
Copyright 2023 by Lauren Barrett
|
Photo of Lauren. |
I
adjust the camera on my phone for what seems like the 100th time
trying to find the perfect angle and lighting to capture my face. It
isn’t working.
Sighing
in defeat, I get ready to press the join button. No one will
care
what I look like in a chronic illness support group anyway.
But
wait…what if they think I look too healthy? I don’t want
to be exposed as a fraud.
“Look
at her. Who does she think she is joining this meeting with
impeccable lighting and glowing skin? There’s nothing wrong
with her. She’s HEALTHY! Out with her!”
Maybe
I should tousle up my hair and lie down. Yes! I need to lie down.
People with chronic illnesses most certainly can’t sit up. And
I need to get my icepack contraption that covers my whole head and
soothes my aching jaw pain. Ohh! As soon as I join, I’ll groan
too - really selling it and marking my territory that I belong here,
dammit. Not an exaggerated groan. Just a whimpering one that says I’m
in pain, but I’m trying to tough it out. They’ll think
I’m admirable. They’ll accept me.
I
look down at my clothes. Perfect, I’m wearing pajamas - I
mean, it is after 8PM and I just got out of the shower, but they’ll
surely think that I’ve been in them all day, my pain too
unbearable to even imagine pulling a shirt over my head and a pair of
pants over my legs. They’ll have to believe me. I’m sure
of it.
Believe.
Whew, there was that heavy word again, weighing me down from years of
wondering if people actually believe me.
As
someone with chronic medical conditions, Hashimoto’s,
Fibromyalgia, and as of recently acute insomnia (because why not tack
on one more to the list), to be exact, it’s commonplace for
someone like me to struggle with people believing me since my illness
constantly changes and flare ups come and go. And to be fair, I don’t
look or sound sick. My illness is invisible.
This
can lead to a lot of anxiety when I have to talk to someone about my
illnesses, especially considering how long it took to get an official
diagnosis of both Hashimoto’s and Fibromyalgia. Each doctor
seemingly brushed me off.
What
I first remembered the most was the feeling of being tired. Not “I
Need a 15 Minute Catnap” tired, but extreme fatigue from
basically walking and existing. The aches and pains in all my bones
came next. I could barely walk, let alone run, one of my favorite
activities.
The
first doctor I saw was a podiatrist. He thoroughly examined and
x-rayed my feet. Somewhat puzzled, he proclaimed that I might have a
slight stress fracture. He suggested a boot for a few weeks. Feeling
silly, I obliged. I wore it for the prescribed amount of time, all
the while thinking that it had done nothing to help and we really
weren’t getting to the root of the problem.
Several
months passed with some dull aches and pains present, but overall,
nothing too extreme. I continued running and living a normal
lifestyle. My pains came back with a vengeance in the spring, but
they were different this time. The muscles in my limbs hurt as well
as my joints. I even experienced what I would describe as tingling
and numbness in my arms and legs from time to time. It was much worse
this time around. I felt a constant need to stretch everything out or
lie down. I needed to seek some help.
The
second doctor that I saw was my primary care doctor. She seemed
perplexed too. My blood was drawn and when the results came in, she
suggested a medicine that did nothing to help at all.
Summer
2014 was here, and I would experience the pains for weeks with them
subsiding for a few days. I tried ice packs. They worked for the time
being. I revisited the doctor’s office, and this time she
prescribed me anti-depression pills. I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t
depressed and never even had told her that. I refused to take them.
The
third time I saw my PCP she suggested I get a scan of my brain
because maybe it was Multiple Sclerosis. “We just want to rule
everything out.” I stared at them in disbelief. Sure, they
would never conclude that I had MS just because I ticked one box. But
there I was getting my head scanned, the first of many due to
developing an unrelated brain
aneurysm the
following year. The results came in and just as I expected everything
was normal. Goodbye money.
By
this time, I was fed up with the cocktail of drugs they tried to
force upon me and the number of futile tests I had to endure. I
switched doctors in September of 2015. My new doctor ran some blood
work and informed me my thyroid levels were off. She sent me to what
was now the 4th kind
of doctor I had seen, the endocrinologist.
There,
he confirmed that I had Hashimoto’s, an autoimmune disease of
the thyroid. In all, it means I have an underactive thyroid
(hypothyroidism). His response to my question on where do I go from
here was vague. He was the kind of doctor that couldn’t make
eye contact and talked in hard to understand medical language. I left
with the impression that I just do…nothing?
A
couple of months later I went back to my new doctor. In dismay, she
shook her head when I told her of the endocrinologist’s advice.
I left her office that day with a referral to a new endocrinologist
and a whole list of medicine and vitamins to take: Nature Throid,
Inflavonoid, Methyl B12, and Vitamin D. As I scanned my credit card
for medicine and some new procedure for the umpteenth time, I prayed
this time it would pay off.
A
few weeks later after taking the medicine, my prayers were answered.
I felt the best I had in years. A renewed energy. The road to
recovery was underway.
But
each time a new symptom seemed to arise I had to go through the same
process as my first diagnosis, getting bounced around from doctor to
doctor with even some doctors questioning my mental health.
“
Well
my mental health and anxiety are starting to not be good, the more
you seem to believe my physical ailments are just ‘all in my
head,’ “ I wanted to scream at them.
Now,
it’s no wonder, I’m left with these kinds of questions
each time my illness is up for discussion…
Does
my doctor believe me after I call her up for the third time this week
with new symptoms popping up every day - joint pain, muscle pain,
extreme fatigue….
Does
work believe me after I call out sick for the fourth time in two
weeks even though technically I look anything but sick as someone who
appears to be a healthy and fit 33-year old…
Do
the ER nurses and doctors believe me as I come crawling in on hands
and knees begging them to help me sleep after nearly a week of
sleepless nights while swearing to them that I’m not some
addict looking to score drugs…
Does
my husband believe me when I tell him that tonight I just simply
can’t? I can’t clean up the dishes in the sink. I can’t
give our son a bath. I need to lie down…
Do
my friends believe me when I change my diet for what seems like the
millionth time? Gluten free. Dairy free. Soy free. Sugar free. And
the stringent plans for a night out must fall into my parameters:
home by an exact time, limited drinking, and I can neither stand or
sit for too long…
Do
I even believe me? I’m exaggerating. I’m being
dramatic. I don’t belong in a chronic illness support group.
I’m not that bad… STOP!
I
smooth out my hair and sit up straight. I smile because I like
smiling, and I’m going to be positive because I like being
positive despite everything. I belong here because I love myself
enough to do this for me and no one else.
Before
any other self-deprecating and negative thoughts can even enter the
realm of my mind, I press join. I see a sea of different faces and
after 10 minutes or so, a wonderful feeling arises. I feel believed -
vindicated for every experience I’ve ever had related to my
chronic illnesses. Why? Because they all have similar stories.
They
take away my anxieties. They take away my doubts. They take away my
negative views of myself. And instead they replace it all with
validation, acceptance, confidence.
With
this support group, I learned that the first step to recovery from
anxiety is being believed. Being believed that what I say is true.
And
for the first time in a while, I sigh with relief.
*****
I
am a multi-passionate mom working to help all parents become their
best selves and build positive relationships with their kids through
mindful parenting.
I graduated from
Indiana University of Pennsylvania with a degree in Deaf/Elementary
Education and East Carolina University with a Master's in Reading
Education.
I have been a high school
teacher of the Deaf and hard-of-hearing by day for 11 years,
a
cross country coach for 10 years, and a mom blogger for 3 years. I am
also a mom to an amazing 4 year old. I
love my faith, running, visiting MLB stadiums with my husband,
chocolate, scrapbooking, pretending I would actually do well on the
Amazing Race, re-watching The Office, listening to Bobby Bones, and
helping out all moms. I live in North Carolina with my husband,
James, and son, Henry.
Contact
Lauren
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