Spent the morning facing reality. It’s the thing I hate most about hospital visits.
I spend 100% of my days facing my brain in the direction of hopeful positive thinking. I’m not gonna lie, it’s so very hard especially when things are happening in my body that scare me all the time. I choose to do this because it’s the only way. Because I HAVE TO. Because I really truly believe I have a healthy body somewhere underneath all the scar tissue and difficulties. I have to chisel it all away with love.
It’s especially hard on days like today when I am faced with my body’s limitations. I watched the barium go down through the xray of my chest and fight it’s way down my esophagus. I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me it isn’t working. In fact, there is no peristalsis happening. My esophagus doesn’t contract and that’s why it hurts to swallow anything. The Scleroderma attacks connective tissue. I’ve been like this for quite a while now, and I knew all of this already. So why is it so hard to hear it for real from the whitecoats?
I was shaking inside the room. Partly from the sub-degree temperatures in the hospital but also because I was nervous and uncomfortable. It blows my mind when I look at these tests… this physical evidence that my body is ravaged from the Scleroderma. But I don’t feel as ravaged and broken as the tests say I am. I refuse to feel it. Can that make it not true?
My sister came with me today. It felt good to have someone waiting for me outside of this room of truths, a nightmarish funhouse of weird machinery and whitecoats. I left it all behind in there, put on a smile, and couldn’t wait to get outside and live my life, MY TRUTH with someone I love. I won’t let any test result take that away from me.
What happens next I don’t know but I wish that I never have to feel this way again. It doesn’t get easier with practice.
I will find that healthy whole me. No matter how long it takes. I don’t believe the doctors when they say there is no way to fix an esophagus that’s lost its motility —or no cure for Scleroderma — or no way to live with a scarred heart for very long. That’s just not my style.
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