Fifteen

Fifteen

         Fifteen, what a daunting number. It seems large but small at the same time. When it is referring to age, it is still small, it’s not quite that grown-up number. If it is referring to money, it is small too but if it referring to illnesses that number is exponentially large, it is overwhelming. Fifteen is the number I am currently standing at with how many official diagnoses have I have on record. That number is scary, that number is overwhelming and that number makes me question everything. 

         I can cry out to God every day and I don’t get a clear answer, all I get is more pain, more suffering, and more agony. I try not to have pity parties for myself because I know there are others that have it worse than me but there are times like right now that I am crying out and screaming at God for what I am dealing with. All fifteen of these diseases are serious, they aren’t as simple as a sinus infection, they are changing the structure of my body, they introduced something into my body that eats away at parts of me each and every day. I can’t eat by myself anymore; I have to have a tube that feeds me. I can’t think deeply I have to have drugs that do try and do that for me. Each disease has to have a drug of some sort to help me continue to function. I’ll be honest, there are times I want to throw my drugs in the trash and just let life fade away but I can’t because I have people that love me and don’t want that for me. 

         Fifteen is a number that lingers over me each and every day. It is a number a number that I wake up thinking about and go to bed crying over. I really want that number that number to diminish but it is never going to go down, in fact I’ve been told it will most likely go up even more. I can’t think about that now because if I do I think I will definitely go crazy and I will end up in the hospital which is the last place I want to be. I hate the hospital because that means I’ve gotten sick enough I can’t deal with it at home, or I need a new device implanted, or I need a new medication which has serious side effects they need to monitor, and all that leads to outrageous bills that I can barely pay (sometimes it takes years to pay them off because of how high they are, I always feel I am drowning in hospital bills)

         There are times that I wish I could literally sit at Jesus’ feet and just ask him why He choose me, what the point of all this is, and why I must continue to endure this amount of pain. I’ve asked and gotten no answer other than you are strong. This is one time I wish I were weak, that I wasn’t so strong, that I could just be that weak person and go to bed and let that be it. I am not that person though, I could never do that, no matter how bad things get I am up, I am trying to move, I am trying to heal, and I am taking all my meds like I’m supposed to (not over taking, not under taking, not taking at all-I take them all like I’m supposed at the right time I am supposed to) I see other people who have less than Fifteen that have just given up and are weak. I see their life and I know I don’t want for me but at times it is awfully appealing and, in that moment, I scream at God, I’m surprised my neighbors haven’t heard and called the cops. 

         I hate having to tell doctors and nurses where I am on their pain scale because my pain is off their pain scale and I don’t think want them thinking I am after hard drugs such as opioids. Those are actually the last thing I want, if I can figure out how to manage without I certainly will because I hate how they make me feel. This last time in the hospital the doctor was shocked that I didn’t want him to write a prescription to take home for the pain. Looking back maybe I should have asked for 3 pills to get me through the first three nights of pain but I managed the best I could. I try explaining to the nurses what all I have going on inside me and how much pain each thing causes in what part of my body so maybe when I tell I am off their pain scale they might believe and I tell them I am not looking for pain meds, just some IV fluids and some how to manage the pain with as little pain meds as possible. Some believe me some don’t and that’s okay. I’ve just started just using their pain scale but that means I hover between an eight and a ten. 

         Fifteen is the number that lives with me everywhere I go. Fifteen is the number that scares off new doctors when they look at my charts and medial records. I’ve had doctors at least be honest with me and tell they didn’t know how to help me and ask me what I thought and how they should help. Is that being a daunting task for me, not really at this point because I know my body the best and I know what I need at that moment when I go and see them. I have so many specialists that treat each of my different fifteen diseases that it is a revolving door of keeping them all apprised of what the other one is saying, the medicine they are giving me and making sure that it doesn’t interact with other medicines I’m on. It is a lot on me and it wears me out each appointment. But I continue to go and get worn out so that I can stay on top of things. 

         Fifteen is a horrible number to me and it frightens me that it is going to rise in the next few years but I can’t worry about that now, I have to just focus and the fifteen. I am so tired of being strong all the time but I know no other way to be, I simply can’t just lay down and call it all done, I have to be strong for those that love me and that I love. So, fighting fifteen it is, it’s my way of life and it is how I am going to continue and how I am living my life……. Fifteen.