There was a week in which I had to go to knoxville to do some work with my dad and my client. We decided to go to church on Wednesday with Mom and Dad. It was an awesome, awesome night. The day had started out terribly--I was in the midst of my "illness" and having a really hard time.
Mom's student came, who is also a friend of hers from church. They decided to ask the Elders to pray for me that night if I would come. I felt awful but decided to go. There was a dinner for everyone but I did not eat much because I felt so bad. After the service, they brought me down to the front and sat me down in a chair. I was surrounded by 6 or 7 elders of the church and two pastors. Each one talked with me and read some scripture that they felt would be applicable for me. The pastor took some oil and drew a cross with it on my forehead and they all prayed for me, one by one.
Those of you who know me, know that I am not one to get caught up in a moment and fawn or swoon when it comes to worship or prayer. I've always had a very tough time praying for myself, or asking for something from God. I'm totally happy to pray for others, but can't bring myself to ask God for anything that I need. When I do, I feel selfish, or that I am manipulating God, guilty for asking, etc. I've also been very afraid to go back in a church after what my ex used to do. I've been so ashamed, for years, and so afraid to even set foot inside a church. It has taken me so long to come out of that, but I finally have.
That night, the elders prayed for me. They prayed for peace, they prayed for healing. Most importantly, they prayed for SPIRITUAL healing for me--that I would realize that it is ok to ask God--in fact, he wants us to. They prayed that I would find the right doctor, that God would guide the doctors and give me strength and peace to face and endure this illness I've had for so long. As they prayed, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I felt like God was telling me it was okay, and just to trust him. I just sat there, crying. I couldn't really do anything else--I was just overcome.
I guess you could say that we were at an "impass" of sorts with my health problems. So many things had happened up to this point, and yet we were no closer to knowing what is going on. So many diagnoses had been thrown at me, all these tests and no answers...it's been an uphill battle. My most recent procedure, a liver biopsy (I won't even talk about how painful that was) had revealed that I did not have auto immune hepatitis, there was no permanent liver damage (praise God!) but that whatever was going on with my liver was a "reaction to whatever auto immune process was occuring in my body".
My family doctor, still convinced that it was lupus or something lupus-related, had referred me to another Rheumatologist--this one was at UT in Knoxville. We had received word just that past week that the new Rheumatologist refused to see me because I had already seen another rheumatologist. I never did understand that one-- I highly doubt my family doctor would have referred me there, if he did not think I needed to be seen. But, whatever. I decided to just sit quietly and have faith, God would provide, one way or another.
On a whim, I had decided to look for a rheumatologist on my own, since my insurance did not require a referral to see one. I had found one and called to make an appointment. I was told that the doctor made his decision on a case-by-case basis, and they would give him the information about me and I would get a call if he decided to take my case. By this time I had almost forgotten about it--when I had heard that I figured there was no way I'd hear back from them and move on.
So, back to Wednesday night and the prayer...It turned out that one of the elders was a doctor and was friends with the Rheumatologist at UT who had turned me down. He said he would try to talk to him and see if he couldn't work something out. We got a phone call the next day from him--he had tried, but the doctor was out of town. He had spoken to the office manager and they were waiting for me to call. I felt my heart leap. Here was some hope. I called and the person I spoke with had no idea what I was talking about and said that I would have to get my family doctor to write a letter indicating why I needed to see a second rheumatologist. I called my doctors' office only to find out that he was on vacation that week. Great.
Life went on as usual, I met with my client, did some work for my dad and enjoyed spending time with my parents. While we were still there my car decided to give me some problems. One repair was around 300, the other 200. I had no idea how on earth we could pay for it--things have already been a struggle as it is. I prayed and began looking for ways that I could earn the money. At one point I thought I might have to go down to the daily labor place, but God intervened through my family and I was able to earn the money by doing some extra projects for Dad. It just so happened that he had to get the office set up for some training. I spent 2 days working off and on round the clock helping him set up tables, desks and computers for his tax seminar. I was exhausted but it was so worth it.
We made it home that weekend, spent some much needed time with Nick and life went on as usual. Then on Monday I got a phone call from the Rheumatologist's office that I had called before. He had agreed to take my 'case' and they had an appointment date for me, which was only a week away. Woohoo!
I gathered up all the medical records, test results, blood work, etc. that I could think of and took it with me to my appointment. The doctor introduced himself, explained to me his credentials and how he worked. Then he literally sat there for an hour with me, looking at all my ecords, listenting to my story, and examining me. I must admit that as he looked through them and muttered things like "hmm, normal, and why didn't they do such-and-such, or why didn't they repeat such and such" I was starting to feel defeated. So many times before I'd been to a promising new physician who "wants to get to the bottom of this" and every time they could never figure it out.
He began asking me questions about my medical history. I answered and the more I talked, the more hopeless I felt. He looked at my "intake form" and then asked me about my family's medical history. I rattled off the long list of diseases and ailments that had occurred throughout the family and he nodded every now and then. I was rambling on about my dad and his sarcoid when he stopped me. He grabbed the stack of records and thumbed through it for a minute, then asked me about Dad's sarcoid. Then he asked me if anyone else had anything and I told him about Grandpa's Rheumatic fever and Rheumatoid arthritis. He sat back in his chair, looked at me and said "I think I know what this is. We're going to figure this out."
Next thing I knew, he was flipping like mad through the stack of bloodwork and continuing to grill me about dad and grandpa and my own symptoms and medical history. Then he pulled out a huge book, looked something up and handed it to me. As soon as I read the top of the page, I felt my heart leap.
It was a Medical Reference book or Encyclopedia of some sort. The title of the page was "Crohn's Disease". As I skimmed over it, I realized that I was looking at a literal list of every single crazy symptom I'd had over the years...right down to the "Hepatitis of unknown cause". Woah. I handed it back to him and asked, "So, you think I have Crohn's Disease?" His answer, "Yes. If I were a betting man I'd put money on it." I explained that I'd been tested several times, and been told that I did not have Crohn's. He said that it is more than likely somewhere in my small intestine, somewhere that they have not been able to look. And given the fact that I have been on prednisone for a long time, it could have masked it in all those tests, too. Okay, I'll buy that. It makes sense.
He went on to say that it is my father's medical history--Sarcoidosis--which has convinced him of this. He explained that Sarcoidosis and Crohn's are very closely related, in that they do the same thing, just in different parts of the body. He often referred to sarcoid as "crohn's of the lung", in fact, and both of these diseases, while closely related, are also genetic--I.E. passed down through the family. He ordered some blood tests and wrote me some prescriptions for medications to start treating the crohn's. The medications he gave me were two different antibiotics--Flagyl and Cipro, (yuck!) along with something called Sulfasalazine and an anti-inflammatory called Diclofenac. He was going to do some more blood tests, just to be sure, but he was pretty sure he had "figured this out".
Crohn's explained EVERYTHING--All the stomach pain, sickness, everything I'd been through in the last 12 years or so. Even the strange vitamin deficiencies I've had off and on since Gavin's pregnancy--all could be explained by Crohn's. (Inflammation in the intestine causes mal-absorbtion, which causes deficiency) I felt excited, scared, unsure, relieved, skeptical..all at once.
I thanked him and packed up all my copies of records that I had brought. A nurse took some more blood from me before I left, and I made an appointment to return for a follow up in 2 more weeks. As soon as I was outside, I called my Mom. "You're not going to believe this", I told her. "We have an answer!"
Continued in part 3 (last one, I promise)
