Lessons Learned...

This month is the one year anniversary of me finally receiving a diagnosis. January 2012 my husband kissed me goodbye as he stayed at home with my son and I was loaded into the car. My mama and Deddy drove me all the way from small-town, Mississippi to Cleveland, Ohio. I spent five days hooked up to an EEG machine in the hospital and saw 12 doctors, including a psychologist who, despite doctors back home trying to say it was all in my head, said I was mentally sound. The very last doctor that I had seen mentioned a condition called POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, and my parents remembered that name. Someone had mentioned that to the neurologist (the same one who didn't do anything about the increased white count) and he said it was completely not possible and there would not be a way to check for it anyway, so nothing was ever said about it again. The doctor mentioned that I had every symptom and that he wanted to send me to one more test before I left. I had to have a Tilt Table Test performed and I barely lasted seven minutes on it before having to come off. The diagnosis was positive for POTS. It was a relief, but it was a tragedy as well. I researched the illness and realized that it is a "new" illness that not many doctors know about and there is also no cure. I became even more angry at God because when I started on my medications, I seemed to have more side effects than benefits. I still could not take care of my son like I wanted and instead of just sucking it up and figuring it out, I moped around and got depressed without a solution. His one year old birthday came around and as I went unconscious as everyone sang happy birthday to him it clicked that I would not let POTS control the rest of our lives. I would not let it define who I was as a wife, mother, or person. Although that was a turning point in my illness, I became so determined that I was actually just mean. I didn't listen. I was stubborn. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and ended up passing out and hurting myself worse than what I should have. Needless to say this past year I have had to eat a BIG dose of humble pie because it is not about doing it all on my own. I just was trying to figure things out so that I could make everyone proud of me. But instead I was alienating myself from the ones who were trying to help me. I realized that God allowed me to go through this for a reason. I may not have the slightest idea why. And at first, I definitely would have said I would have never have wanted to have went through it. BUT, now that I have gone through all this, I have learned so much about my family, my friends and who they actually are, my husband, myself, and most importantly my God. I no longer just go through life wishing the days away and not wanting to spend time with people. When I get to see people, I truly appreciate the our moments together. I no longer have a job so I see how much my husband is committed to our family. I see his devotion to our son and giving him everything he will ever need, even if he has to go without. I praise God that He put Austin in my life because I know that any other man would not put up with what he has gone through with me. I have been stubborn and caused so much more on myself than I should have and instead of sugar coating it, Austin tells me like it is and that is how it should be.. But he also brings my medicine, water, makes me rest, doesn't allow me to do anything when he knows I am not feeling good and it is all because he knows me better than I know myself. He is police chief of our small town, but that comes with big responsibilities. He deals with all the small town politics, the constant whiny calls, the bad calls, deals with punks who think they know it all, paperwork, watching what he says, being called in the middle of the night even when he is off duty, and making a round through town before turning in for the night just to make sure "the town is still there". He loves his job. On top of all that, throw in a rambunctious little boy that will be two years old in February. He has to give him his baths because if I bend over I pass out, when Dyson is sick, Austin is up helping me with him in the middle of the night just because he is a fantastic dad. All of this and the only complaint I ever hear is that he is tired so he is going to take a nap. I am so blessed beyond what I deserve for the miracle son and the amazing husband I have. I look back over the past year and a half and realize I didn't deal with my getting sick like I should have. I should have put it in God's hand the moment I got ill, but instead I got angry, then the moment I got diagnosed I became even more angry. Now I realize that God is a big God. He can handle it. It didn't take Him by surprise at all. I often times asked Him "why me?" And I know so many people who say that you are not supposed to question God but I disagree. I feel that when we truly ask God why, it lets Him know that we are seeking Him. Sometimes when we get so angry or so distant, that is our only way or communication. When I asked "why?" And truly started seeking the answer, my prayers became longer and my communication became more clear. I now know that I have a purpose for this illness in my life. My only regret is that when I look at pictures of my son from that time, I do not really recognize him. Now, even when I feel bad, I lay on the floor with him or lay in the bed or on the couch and watch cartoons with him. I will not allow my condition to take my son's mother away from him again. He deserves more than that. We deserve more than that.