I Found My Dream Man: Now he’s Losing his Memory

     Sitting on the back patio watching you, watch the storm. There's silence between us, and the night is full of sound. Crickets are chirping, the breeze is rustling the trees, and stray cats' claws scratch the chain link. Lightning flashes sporadically; a prefix for the distant thunder's resound to fill the night.

     Your hands are usually busy, but I find you sitting with them folded in your lap. You usually work on the yard when you're out here, water the garden at least. I see you deep in thought tonight, drinking in the desert and her monsoon. You aren't interested in conversation. The lack of interest is not a result of some animosity as I may usually deduce. Your mind is somewhere else and it's clear that's where you ought to be.

     I want to warn you that you don't possess the answers you are seeking. I'm inclined to advise you to focus your energy on distraction instead of the deep contemplation that's consuming you. This is a process with many steps and grey areas. You find yourself more apprehensive than you have ever been. Patience and diversions will serve you well during this process. Resist the hasty urges to know everything at once. The wisdom I intend for you is not spoken, it is willed in my action and written here. I'll do my best to avoid any discord.

     I have never experienced the symptoms and ailments that bombard you randomly. I don't know how you feel, or how to soothe you. Altruism is my objective. I will focus on benefiting you instead of mourning the inability to cure you. I'll focus on staying objective. I can make close observations and communicate them. I promise to love you on the good days and the bad days, until you're well and forever after.

     You lose your memory at random times and experience some other miscellaneous physical symptoms. That must be frightening, and I wish I could make it stop. In March and before, situations like these did not exist in our lives; there weren't even instances that could allude to such a reality. But April came, and so did this strange affair. 

     I need to remind you of something so that you realize we are on the same team. We have more in common than you may think. When I was 23, I was healthy. Another day when I was 23, I was blindsided by illness that looked one way and behaved another. Initially it was migraines. I was told migraines, but as soon as those were maintained more symptoms began.

     A year and a half later I was agreeing to an emergency laparoscopy with an OBGYN who I'd met the same evening. What do migraines have to do with my sex organs? How desperate was I, to elect for an emergency surgery as a means of diagnosis? (it was a frantic last resort to finding a diagnosis, my first surgery and I was terrified) IF the diagnosis was there, then maybe he could treat the issue at hand during surgery. The good doctor was able to diagnose me, I had something called endometriosis.  

     I was relieved to have answers after a dozen ER visits in 2 years. I'd been told I was having burst ovarian cysts, tubal pregnancies, miscarriages, or the favorite: un-diagnosed abdominal pain. Now I knew what was causing the hemorrhaging and pain; but the surgery didn't do much for my symptoms. Doc had another response in the form of an injectable hormone therapy called Lupron. Low-dose birth control pills had given me severe depression and anxiety in the past, so this drug sounded scary but I was determined to get out of pain.  

     The fifth month of my Lupron treatment I went to a scheduled appointment feeling very odd. When the doctor came into the room, I broke down and explained to him that the physical side effects and rapid weight gain were all bearable. The empty depression and lack of purpose inside me along with the raging anxiety were unbearable. I told him that I was afraid I may end up doing something to hurt myself if I find myself alone in a weak state of mind. I clarified that this is not normally an issue and that the hormone is the only variable factor that could be influencing me so strongly. He apologized and explained I was having an extremely rare reaction. His apology went deeper when he informed me that it was his obligation to have me admitted to a behavioral health facility for psychiatric evaluation. I had to stay in a psychiatric hospital for a week because of my medicine. There, they prescribed me another medicine, with side effects of hyperthyroidism and vertigo that took effect after taking it for 14 days. This wasn't the scenario where I could just discontinue my doses of the medicine. I also had to seek out a neurologist and see him every month for 8 months to obtain Valium as a combatant to the vertigo. Another necessity was remaining under an endocrinologist's observation for 12 months to monitor my thyroid and ensure it returned to acceptable levels.

      At the time I was certain that had to be the end of the issues. It wasn't fair, I had always maintained a pretty healthy life, and I just knew that if anything else happened I would lose my sanity. More things did happen. Completely unrelated, obscure symptoms that were more painful than any I had encountered so far. I didn't pursue anymore medical care until the pain in my joints was so severe that it kept me up most nights. 

     Denial and I held steadfast in the beginning; but eventually rationality had me questioning if I had inherited an illness. The nice part about pursuing this diagnosis was that there were no ER visits, no surgeries. I simply had to request a blood test. So when the results came back with astronomically high indications of a positive result I found another doctor. She repeated the test along with some others and this time my rheumatoid factor was even higher.

     At the age of 26, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid arthritis. I am told there is no cure, only maintenance. Arthritis is a natural deterioration of bone and tendon with injury and wear of aging. Rheumatoid arthritis is an Autoimmune disorder. RA patients' immune systems attack the patient's joints as if they were a foreign body or illness. The immune system is slowly paralyzing the patient's ability to move.

     You tell me that you are losing your mind and that you almost made it 40 years. We do not know anything except that doctors in the ER ruled out tumors with an MRI. These symptoms are just starting and if we stay proactive who knows what diagnosis and treatments we will discover. My fate is sealed, every part of my journey toward quality health the past 5 years all ties together with the autoimmune disorder. fMy body IS eating itself. I can barely regulate hot and cold anymore, and I used to be such an active outdoor girl. Even though I do have these diagnoses, I will continue to fight for treatment in pursuit of a quality life because I deserve that.

     I remember the hopeless terror that is not knowing; I began to think I wasn't sick at all and that I was imagining the pain. The worst part is looking for the answer to: 'what?'. What is it that I have and what does that mean? Once you have that information, accepting and building a plan is tangible. We are close, and I am here for you, so please stay strong.

     If you need more nights like tonight where you spend quality time reflecting, I understand. If you want me to distract you, we can do that too. Illness is a cruel part of this life that we can't prepare ourselves for. If we have to go through it, at least we are together. I am here for every chapter and I extend all of my unwavering strength, courage, and serenity for you always.