The other day the lovely Delarly posed a question for a fun Friday thread -- what are you afriad of.
Well, I'm afriad that I have Cushing's but at the same time I'm afraid I don't have Cushing's. I know that doesn't make sense, but that's where I am. If I don't have it, then I have something even more rare and weird, possibly something call something like "metabolic disorder X..." Oh good.
But if I have Cushing's then what kind do I have? I'm afraid I have a brain tumor. I'm afraid I have some tumor on my adrenal. I'm afraid I have lung cancer. Tumor. That word echos in my brain, in my head, in my very soul. I'm not used to being afraid. I picture myself as more the fearless type, but I cried myself to sleep lastnight.
I'm afraid that if I have Cushing's I'll be part of the 20% that isn't cured. I'm afraid of more surgery. I'm afriad that the recovery will be as awefull as it has been desicribed by some of the folks that have recovered. One woman said that she was in constant pain and it was like she had fybromyalgia. Okay, I had to laugh at that, if the worst of her recovery was feeling like she had fybromalgia, then sign me up. You see, I have fybromalgia.
It it worth walking through fire? I guess the real question is more along the lines of why wouldn't it be worth it to become healthy and have no more symptoms.
1/27/06 I feel like this all make sense, like I've been working with a jigsaw puzzle with out the box, blindfolded. The more I read about this, the more it is just an ah-HAH!
I figure I'll just track my cushing's stuff here, just to keep it in one place.
This is what I posted on 1/24:
Well, I have a tentative diagnosis. The interist thinks it is very likely that I have cushing's syndrome. So, I go for a new round of tests Friday to find out what kind I have, so i can start a treatment plan.
I'm in a weird place. This sort of makes it real, but yet not real. I don't want to go to work, but well, I have to. I just want to go to bed and sleep, which is what I usually do when depressed. I thought I'd be happy with an answer, but I have a head ache. My DH reminds me that it is only a tentative dignosis, even if it makes sense.
Cushing's Syndrom http://www.niddk.nih.gov/health/endo...s/cushings.htm
Cushing's syndrome is a hormonal disorder caused by prolonged exposure of the body's tissues to high levels of the hormone cortisol. Sometimes called "hypercortisolism," it is relatively rare and most commonly affects adults aged 20 to 50. An estimated 10 to 15 of every million people are affected each year.
... Treatment depends on the specific reason for cortisol excess and may include surgery, radiation, chemotherapy or the use of cortisol-inhibiting drugs. If the cause is long-term use of glucocorticoid hormones to treat another disorder, the doctor will gradually reduce the dosage to the lowest dose adequate for control of that disorder. Once control is established, the daily dose of glucocorticoid hormones may be doubled and given on alternate days to lessen side effects.
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So, I've had a few days to get used to this. Funny. Right now I'm not scared of this at all. I could have a brain tumor, and I'm not scared. I'm not stressed, I'm not freaked out, well not very freaked out anyway. Weird, weird, weird.
I guess part of it is that now that I have a name, or even might have a name, it isn't scary. It's like in Fantasy, you never give your true name to the bad guys, and once you have the true name of a demon you own it. You control it, and it has no power over you. I sort of feel like I have it's name. This thing that has prevented me from the weightloss success I so desperately crave.
I called my sister last night. Under pain of never speaking to her again (I know, an empty threat) I made her promice that she wouldn't tell our mother. I just really can't deal with my mother having to come up with her own rare-and-potentially-deadly-but-very-treatable disease just so she gets all the attention. I didn't tell her that it was potentially deadly, but that it was rare and treatable. No sence causing her stress where she doesn't need it. She said she couldn't deal with our mom needing another new rare-and-potentially-deadly-but-very-treatable disease either.
Today I had more blood work done because that's what they do, more blood work. I was able to get my appointment moved up a week, so I'll see the internist next week instead of in two weeks. 3 days is easier than 10 days.
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I have to admit that I'm afraid that they won't be able to do anything to help me. That I'll be fat forever. That there will be nothing that they can do, and I'll just have to live as a failure.
I try so hard to not read about other people successes. I know that makes me so very shallow. But I can't help it, I feel so miserable when I read about how someone with a lower starting BMI has lost 75 pounds in the time I've gained and lost the same 5 pounds. I feel bad that I can't share in their joy, that I can't celibrate with them,
