The Storm

There was an incredible storm that woke me from my sleep a bit ago.  The lightning lit our room.  I would count, "One-one thous..." and that is as far as I got before the crack of thunder shook our window. 

I had been having numbness in the left side of my face, specifically my lip down my chin and also in my thumb.  In addition, I was TIRED.  Not the kind that can be fixed my a nap or going to bed early, I can't explain the level of exhaustion I had.  There was literally no place for me to draw any energy.  My house fell apart around my ears, my kids were in tears as mommy was not plugged in to their lives and their tender needs.  It was awful.  I finally made an appointment to see a doctor.  

I snuggled close to Joe and closed my eyes and listened as the rain tapped at our window and rushed through the gutters puddling on the ground.  He is my security blanket.

I was passed from my primary care physician to a neurologist.  A nice man.  A very OLD nice man.  Apparently he is very smart, and has written texts books, and teaches at the University.  His initial test was similar to a sobriety test.  "Look at this, touch your nose with your eyes closed, walk this line, can you feel, see, touch..." it went on and on.  At the end of the exam he said, "Well, I don't think you have had a tumor or a stroke, but I do think something is going on.  I would like to order an MRI and have some blood work done."

Our room was lit, I closed my eyes tight and waited for the impact of the thunder, "One-one thousand..."

I had an MRI done.  I was scared.  I had blood work done.  I cried and tried to hide my face sitting with my arm strapped in my chair.  They drew a lot of blood.   "Are you afraid of needles?" the technician asks.  I asked for a tissue and said no.  Just the results.  "I will pray for you," she said.  I wonder what they are testing for.  No one told me at first.  I wait for results.  

Crack!  The thunder can be felt in my chest.  I worry more about my kids and if the storm will wake them from their peaceful states.  I hope they can't hear and feel what is happening around them.  I listen for their cries.  

My phone rang on a Thursday evening.  I didn't recognize the number and almost ignored it.  I answered and was surprised to hear my doctor.  She had the MRI results, and it wasn't great.  They had found 4 or 5 small lesions in the ventricles of my brain.  Scarring.  The concern wasn't so much that they were there, rather their location.  Multiple Sclerosis patients often have lesions in the same location, and with the numbness, they wanted to do more tests.  I go to see my neurologist.  I am hit with more news.  My blood work came back and I tested positive for Lupus.  They wanted to do more tests.  

My children never made a peep.  I was so thankful they slept through the noise that could easily have pulled them from sweet dreams.  I lay awake.  I want to sleep, I am so tired, but can't. 

More blood work, another MRI this time with contrast (injected me with iodine) and they add my cervical spine (neck) to the mix.  I am hooked up to machines and have circular electrodes pasted to my head and lines are crisscrossing my body feeding electrical impulses from my brain and CNS to computers.  It was called a, "brain stem analysis."  Doctors stimulated nerves in my hands and feet (a very odd sensation to have your thumb or big toe twitch involuntarily, and a little painful, too).  I am asked to look at a T.V. screen and watch a black and white checkerboard pattern flip flop.  I listen to clicking noises in one ear and then the other.   We waited for the results.  

For as loud as it was, and for as much as the thunder shook our room there was something refreshing about the smell of the hot rain, and intriguing about the crack of the thunder.  Our plants were greener the next day because of the storm.  Everything was fresh.  Clean.  New.

We were met with so much support when word got out that our family was going through such an ordeal.  Meals were made, my house was cleaned, friends called, family supported, prayers were offered, our names put in the temple.  Joe gave me a priesthood blessing.  I don't remember much of what he said, I remember feeling peace.  To know that everything was going to be ok was what I needed.  To get a grip on perspective and remember that what ever this is, it is but a sliver of time was made clear.  

The storm moved quick, I was awake for the whole thing.  As I counted from lightening to the clash of thunder, I was able to get to three and four one-thousands.  Then five.  The rain stopped and I fell asleep, still draped across Joe.  

I was standing in the kitchen.  I can pinpoint the exact moment when I felt better.  I was doing dishes, and as though I had water pour from my head to my toes, the tiredness and disconnected feelings I had been having washed away.  I can't explain it other than that.  I turned to Joe and noted the change, "Joe, I feel better... I feel awake." I was as fresh as the plants after the rain.  

I got a phone message on the drive back from the National Arboretum from my doctor's office.  The MRI had shown nothing.  No lesions.  My neck was cleared also.  I had my follow up appointment with my neurologist.  He told me that they had ruled out MS due to the fact that the second MRI was clean, and my  brain stem analysis cam back normal.  As my neurologist, he would take it no further concerning the matter.  The blood work is still a bit of an enigma.  They retested me to try and determine the degree of positivity.  Lupus apparently has a lot of false positives associated with it.  A strong degree could point to a Lupus diagnosis, a weak degree could signal a false positive.  Being that "tiredness" was the only real symptom, my doctor said, "it is my hunch you don't have Lupus, but I can't say for sure."  

Through the storm, we were kept dry and safe, but it was still frightening, and I know it isn't the last storm we will be caught in.  If any symptoms return, I will go back and have the Lupus further investigated.  For now, I am looking at the rainbow, and feeling grateful.