just waiting for a sense of normalcy to return.
I was sure it would only be a few weeks, possibly a month,
then things would surely calm down.
The swelling would stop and the patches would heal.
Instead, it has silenced my voice and made me examine
what I really want out of this life.
I've learned that there is no promise of daily energy-
instead, there is an intense pressure to live out my life on my "good days" (and just try to get by on all the others). I'm hovering somewhere between Lupus, the Undefined Auto-Immune Thingy, and The Mystery Disease.
who ordered up some tests.
He identified one issue and sent me on my way.
One morning in an urgent panic I found a new doctor
(who I ended up liking a lot).
We'd meet up every Monday, or sometimes twice a week.
He had a gentle manner and called himself a "diagnosis sleuth."
At the end of every appointment he'd pat me on the back
and tell me that he was just as frustrated as I was.
Eventually he found me a specialist who I finally met last week. She's a frumpy mom-type who says she's going to solve this mess, but first I need to see her colleague, and give her twelve vials of my blood.
A year ago I had to give up eating poisonous fruit. Two months ago I had to stop eating anything a normal person does. My ultra-strange and extremely limited diet leaves me weak and mean-spirited. My hands become tightened claws after the hour of 9 p.m. and my brain can't keep track of when I'm supposed to take my pills. So now I'm just sitting here with my cup of water trying to figure out how this happened. But so far nothing is sorting out.