Invisible Illness

For the last 6 nights my soon to be 10 year- old has slept in between her father and I.

Now I will pause to give you time to gasp, as wave your fingers at me.

I will give you time to self-righteously proclaim that you “know better” than to put your child in your bed, because once you start “that habit” you will never be able to break it.

Go ahead.  Tell me its my own fault that I don’t sleep as comfortably as I could with my 5 foot tall 85 pound child bouncing between clinging to my husband and I.

Tell me I should just send her back to her own bed.

And then – when you are done.  Come over.  Please.  I will even make you some coffee – but you will have to settle for fake milk.  No need to keep any in a house where a child has a dairy allergy.

When you come over you can watch her for a few minutes.  I will let you watch as she winces in pain, and cries out as she bounces around.  And that, that is after she actually gets to sleep.

invisible illness

See before she gets to sleep, there is pain.  Always some pain.  Always.  But some nights, or weeks like this one, it is worse than normal.

There are nights, and plenty of them that she sleeps in her own bed.  Right through until as late as we will let her.  Those are the nights the pain is at its best.

Then there are the nights she needs one of us to rub her in her bed.  A knee, a calf, and ankle, an elbow, a shoulder, a wrist, or even a head is keeping her up.  Sure, you could say she is exaggerating.  Maybe she is acting like any kid who doesn’t want to go to sleep.  But Meghan is above many things, a really rotten liar.  So, when she hurts – she lets us know.  And when she doesn’t it never comes up – end of story.

The worst nights are the ones like this week.  The ones where she can’t even get herself comfortable in her own bed.  These are the nights she cries not only for the pain, but also for the raw fatigue that keeps her awake when she would rather sleep.

This week there has been pain.  Pain in the legs as she adjusts to swim practice, or plays with a friend or two at a play date.  There has been pain in the wrist, the pesky wrist injured now since early June.  The one that has to have a problem – we just don’t know what it is – yet.  The wrist in line for an MRI/MRA has a pulse to it that is reminiscent of the AVM  in her knee.  But we are trying not to jump the gun.

If you ever do stop by my house in the middle of the night, to see why none of us have any semblance of a normal sleeping pattern, maybe you can bring a warm compress, or strong hands, and help as we massage cramping, painful body parts.

Even on the days we fall hard!

No one knows the Meghan of 2 AM.

Everyone sees the bright smiley face.

Everyone sees the interpersonal child who talks with everyone – who makes them laugh.

Everyone sees the reader, the friend, the kid who likes quiet, and order, and rules, and helping people in need.

The Meghan of 2, or 3 AM disappears with the morning light.  She washes her face, brushes her teeth, and puts on the best smile she can to prepare to face the world.

This is the story of life with chronic, invisible illness.

energy to be normal

No one knows about the growths on her thyroid, or the insufferable hot flashes she has.

No one knows about the effort it takes her to walk up the stairs, or to sit and play with friends.

No one knows she is slated for 2 more MRIs, a pituitary function test and a pelvic sonogram – and that’s just the next 2 weeks.

No one knows because she doesn’t “look sick.”

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She wears her denim ribbon necklace, the one crafted after the Global Genes Project logo – every single day.  And she dreams of the day she will look across a room at another little girl wearing one too.

The denim ribbon is the symbol for rare and genetic disorders, and since identifying her own need to have a “symbol” to wear, like my pink ribbon, she saw to it that one was created to be worn around her neck.  She chose to have it modeled off the Global Genes Project- an organization that spoke to her heart soon after our Cowden’s Syndrome diagnosis.

We wear them now, my husband, and Meghan, and I – united in our battle.  And we hope that one day there will be more.

circle of three

A denim cause ribbon, crafted after the Global Genes Project's slogan, "Hope it's in our Genes!"
A denim cause ribbon, crafted after the Global Genes Project’s slogan, “Hope it’s in our Genes!”

Next month we will travel to Disney World, as we have for the last 6 years.  While we are there Meghan will use a wheelchair.

Recently, when the controversy hit about the misuse of Guest Assistance Passes at Disney, I was sick to my stomach.

You see I have a child with a virtually invisible disability.  She can walk, by the grace of God.  She can swim.  She can function throughout a day – often with insufferable pain at night.

But what she can not do is walk for long distances.  Ever.  Regardless of the footwear – no matter how hard we try to prepare.  She just can’t.

We took her out of soccer because of the impact.  We took her out of dance for the same reason.  Now she swims, and even with that sometimes the muscle pain is difficult to bear.

So it is especially tricky for us at a park that necessitates walking and standing.  Sometimes she can stretch her legs.  Usually she can cover about a half mile on foot.  Then she needs to rest.  If she pushes too  hard on day 1, by day 4 we might as well be back home.

She spent her birthday one year in tears, pleading with me – in the middle of EPCOT that she would go home “RIGHT NOW IF YOU COULD MAKE THE PAIN STOP.”  That was the day after we let her walk 50% of the day before.

She hates being confined.  She would rather walk.  She looks like she should be walking.  But she can’t be.  Bottom line.

DSC_0626

So as I said earlier, those of you who want to judge me for rubbing my child’s sore and aching body so she can rest – feel free.  As long as we breathe she will be able to seek comfort in the arms of her mother and father.

And when you see me pushing her around Walt Disney World, I know there are the lowlives out there who abuse the policy, but before you assume that my “normal looking” child is one of them, ask yourself if you have ever met anyone with an invisible illness.

Ask yourself how many children, when given the opportunity, would rather navigate the happiest place on earth from the confines of a chair.  Sure we all need a rest some time.  But she’d rather have it on a bench.  And while we are at it – she would rather be having an ice cream cone like the other kids too.

Just because I teach my child to go through life with her head held high.  Just because I teach her to push through pain.  Just because I teach her to smile at adversity and to be kind to judgmental strangers- that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt.  None of that invalidates the 4 surgeries for the AVM in her knee, the thyroid biopsies, the constant scans, the issues yet to be uncovered.

My child knows patience.  She knows how to wait.  And she does it all year at countless doctors, and invasive lab tests, with grace, and poise and dignity.

So, before you forget what invisible illness looks like- look here.  We are too busy BEATING COWDEN’S to acknowledge the judgmental.  We teach our daughter to love and forgive.  She has too much stress in her life to harbor any anger.  We learn our best qualities from her.

you were given this life

Ramblings and Random Thoughts

thankful for the difficult

I am not who I was before.

Before there was Felix.

Before there was Meghan.

Before there was Cowden’s Syndrome.

Before there was breast cancer.

I am just not who I was before.

But every change has been part of a process, a transformation that is still taking place.

Perhaps the biggest change has been in my attitude towards others.

I try to surround myself with positive people.

Knowing full well that we all have our moments.

I deliberately seek out tolerant people.

Tolerant of changes.  Tolerant of others.

Life is short.

Judgement brings anger, hatred, contempt.

I have no time.

let go of the toxic

So one by one I have worked to let them go – the toxic ones.

And I cling tightly to the others.

But such transformations affect your whole self – your core.

When I was much younger I had ideas.  I was sure I was right – all the time.

Not so much anymore.

Now, I am sure that I make mistakes.

I am sure that everyone I truly love does the best they can with what they have where they are.

I am sure that everyone hurts.

I am sure that everyone struggles.

I look with a softer heart.

I see things from the other point of view.

Once I might have said that I found others beliefs to be “wrong” or “immoral.”

Now, I respect that others have beliefs and feelings that deserve to be respected – just like mine.

Maybe its the Cowden’s.

Maybe its the stress, or the fatigue.

Maybe its just me – growing up.

I tend to stay out of politics, and I don’t really comment on religions other than my own.

But I know I was raised to love my neighbor.

I know I was raised not to judge.

Really in the end – I just think if we all loved each other as sisters and brothers…

… well maybe more things would make sense.

I am not who I was before-

I am a work in progress.

I am surviving.

I am beating cowdens one day at a time.

I am embracing lessons learned.

I am wiser and more tolerant than I ever hoped to be.