The bell

I’ve never had my heart beat so fast and throb to the noise of a bell ringing, but today it happened.

I’ve never hated a noise so fucking much.

It’s one that everyone around me wants to hear, but me I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to ring my own bell.

If you haven’t experienced this bell, consider yourself lucky. The bell I’m talking about is the one you only hear when someone has finished their chemo treatment. You hear loud claps, cheering, “congratulations”, and sometimes they’ll even throw some confetti.

Don’t worry, I clapped my hands in the back room while I silently cried. This stupid fucking bell gets me every single time. It makes my head flow of a million thoughts of what it would be like to just be free of this scene.

I’m going on three years of this. Three years of every other week coming in, getting poked, getting fluids, getting medication, but I have no end date. I have no day I will get to ring a bell.

I have nothing to look forward to except this constant routine that I have been stuck in.

Yes, I’m receiving a drug that’s improved my life drastically but still has so much control over me. I want an end date. A day where I can stop all treatment. The handful of meds, and the anxiety over something as simple as a bell.

Uncomfortable AF

The feeling I get when I’m about to change into something better than the version I am right now.

The feeling causes my mind and heart to race, but not the same way that my anxiety does. It causes my chest to throb because I know how much love my heart has to offer. It causes my mind to race to thoughts of finally letting go and believing that God truly is in control.

I don’t think this is going to be as easy as I’m imagining, especially with the uncomfortableness that I feel, but the idea of letting go of all things to a higher power and just living to the thought that I am a child of God excites me.

I want to learn forgiveness and how to not be angered so easily. I want to not hold grudges or bitterness in my heart. I want His strength on my weak MG and depression days. I want to spread my love the way that God intended me to do so. I want to accept God into my heart; fully.

& in order to do that I need to start stepping out of my comfort zones. I need to start accepting full responsibility for my behaviors, propelling my problems onto other people, and trying to see the good in everything.

Why I’m Here

This disease is rare and finding the support you need is ever rarer. I have been diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis for a  total of 5 years. I have never met anyone that has had the disease until I got on a plane and flew 1,400 miles alone to meet people that KNOW my struggle.

In 2018 I flew to Kansas City and attended a Myasthenia Gravis Conference. It was amazing. I met doctors, nurses, physical theraptist, occupational therapist, AND PATIENTS! I even met some nurses, and OT with MG. While there they hosted a couple of support groups that I decided to attend. I found them really helpful, but the fact that it took me flying over a 1,000 miles to meet people who have a glimpse of the life I live isn’t right.

I’m looking to start up local support groups for patients like myself suffering from Myasthenia Gravis. I want it to be BOTH online and in person.

Surrounded

I know that I should be thankful that my bedroom is no longer my hospital room, but I’m still not satisfied with where I’m at in my treatment.

What once was infusions every 4 weeks for five days, each day lasting for 5 hours. Not including the 1 additional hour of accessing me, and running fluids prior to the IVIG. Since the IVIG caused headaches that turned into debilitating migraines.

Today I’m sitting here in my “home away from home.” I have been coming to this infusion clinic every 14 days for the last 2 years. Sure the infusions are shorter, but damn this setting I have to be in to receive them is just as debilitating on my mental health as the migraines were on my body from the IVIG. I’m not suppose to be here. I know I’m not, but yet here I am.

Surrounded by the constant reminder of just how sick I am. I’m the youngest patient they have and most frequent visitor.

I’m surrounded by faces filled with wrinkles, and hands that have worked an entire lifetime providing for their families…Then there’s my hands that haven’t even got a chance to provide for my family.

I’m surrounded by those who’ve “accepted God’s fate and plan even if that means dying and leaving behind all my family” …then there’s me talking begging to God not to take me yet. I’ve got so much more to live for and memories to create.

I’m surrounded by the other ones that are full on miserable and hate God for what he’s putting them through. They complain the entire time how much pain there in. How they can’t eat and drink and no matter what positive input or suggestions you have they can’t break the negative attitude… then there’s me where I see God doing this as a lesson showing just how fragile life is.

I’m surrounded by reminder. The constant reminder that there is no end date to this surrounding. My reminder here is harsh and every time I witness it I feel like I’ve been kicked in my stomach. This reminder for me is the one of the best days of someone else’s life.

It’s when they get a celebration… confetti thrown, a round of applause, and cheers from all the nurses and secretaries. They not only get a celebration, but they get an end date. They got something that as of right now I will NEVER have.

I know I need to stay positive and remember just how well advance the medical industry has become, but damn does it get tiring.

It gets tiring always being positive and always keeping the faith. I’m not like these other patients getting chemotherapy or their one time infusions or blood. I’m here getting the ONLY thing that’s made me capable of actually gaining my life back. . .So I just sit here surrounded.

The “C” Word

The one word you never want to hear coming from your loved one’s mouth….”Cancer.” As soon as that word is used say goodbye to everything you once knew. Even the entire demeanor of the conversation is about to change. It doesn’t matter who it is you are talking to either, as soon as they know that you have cancer, they know that you are sick. It doesn’t matter if they can physically see the cancer cells attacking your body, and it doesn’t matter if they can feel your constant painThe entire world knows what cancer is, regardless of which one you are so fortunate to have.

The first thing I envision when I hear the word “cancer” is an elderly woman, pale, and hooked up to an oxygen machine. She’s laying in a hospital bed and has her head wrapped in a headscarf because all of her hair has fallen out due to radiation. This image isn’t one portrayed from television, but it’s actually the exact image I have of my Nanny who was diagnosed with lung cancer some years back. So, if anyone is like me when they hear someone has cancer the first image that probably comes to their mind will be their loved one who suffered from cancer, or it could be the actress who played it so dramatically while binge-watching “Grey’s Anatomy.” Either way when you hear the word “Cancer” you are able to associate something with it. Which is not the case for me when telling someone I have Myasthenia Gravis.

In all honesty I sort of envy those cancer patients. You see with your disease you don’t need to explain to someone what it is. You don’t need to stress over going to the emergency room because you are probably more trustworthy of your caregivers to take proper care of you. Those are little details you take advantage of, but there is a few more solid reasons. Like, when you sit down with your doctor to go over your diagnosis this is where I envy you most. You are able to set out a realistic plan, this medication, this chemo therapy, or if it’s really bad you hear an expiration date. You have a timeline set either way. Whether it’s going to be “X” amount of times of chemo or “X” amount of months left to live your life however you want. You can see an end to your suffering at some point. Not me. Every single day of my life consist of a mind game. Melissa vs. Myasthenia Gravis. I can’t tell when my legs are going to be so tired I can’t even walk to my car. I can’t tell when the double vision is going to kick in, or my breathing is just going to go. Every single day is an obstacle for me, and not knowing when it will end it just torture.

As if that weren’t enough another difficult parts of having this disease is the lack of knowledge people have about it. I’m not talking about my friends or family not knowing either. Oh, and we can’t forget the outright nosey strangers that see your port accessed and feel they have a right to ask too. I’m talking about the nurses and doctors. The people you are supposed to trust your life with, but I can’t.  [I can’t tell you the number of times I have been told by either a nurse or a doctor that “they only skimmed through it in nursing/medical school.” Following that statement usually comes with the next question “can you remind me what it is?”] There is nothing scarier than walking into an Emergency Room alone, and just praying AND trusting in God to give you a nurse/doctor that knows just enough about Myasthenia not to kill you, or make your symptoms worse than they already are.

I promised myself when I first got sick that I would never be like any of the patients that I used to care for before I myself became sick. (Ironic right, I used to take care of the sick, now I’m the one that needs to be taken care of) This has become one of the most challenging promises I have ever made to myself, let alone keep. Constantly explaining myself to others that should have some type of knowledge towards my disease gets old. Making sure they give me the correct doses of medications, is draining. Keeping up with everyone around me is part of my job to keep me alive and well, but I feel like the amount of attention and energy I give is so much more than I should.

Why is it the one word that no one wants to say, everyone knows so much about. Quite frankly, I find it bullshit. “CANCER,” it’s ugly but, so is “Myasthenia Gravis.” I’m not here to compare which disease is worse. I just want to make it known that there are diseases out there that are just as ugly and devastating. They are debilitating to not only your health but your mindset. It’s draining constantly being on your toes and being your own advocate. 

About Me;

My name is Melissa. I’m 25 years old, and married to the love of my life. I’m also a fur-momma to a cat (Minnie), and dog (Diamond.) I’m currently in school as a full time student at Bridgewater State University double majoring in Special Education for Severe Disabilities and Psychology. Oh, and I have Myasthenia Gravis. Now chances are you haven’t heard of it, and that’s why I’m here.

Since my diagnosis I have endured so much due to the lack of awareness of this disease. I went through stressful situations that could of been avoided if people had more education about Myasthenic patients. So I’ve decided to start this blog in hopes to help spread the awareness because, well, you can’t expect change without effort. Right?

*Some of this will probably get personal and raw.*