Watching it burn

     It had only been two days since my appointment with Doctor Barry.  “I got you an appointment with the rheumatologist!" Dr. Barry said.  "He was able to squeeze you in early in the morning before regular hours!  You have to be there, March 3, 8AM, in Reno.  You can't miss it!  It may be months before he can get you in again.”

     I felt like a prayer had been answered and I would soon get down to the bottom of this illness.  The rheumatologist, Dr. McClure, was highly regarded in his field and in medicine as a whole.  I felt like I would be in good hands, that he would know what was wrong and would be able to cure me.  I trusted the fact that he came highly recommended from Doctor Barry.  She was clearly taking a genuine interest in getting me the medical attention I needed.

     With every day becoming increasingly painful, waiting for my next appointment felt like an eternity.  The Vicondin pretty much quit working.  The only thing it was doing for me was helping me to relax.  The pain that awakened me in the middle of the night would be my reminder to take my next dose.  I still felt the pain just lying in bed, and anytime I needed to roll over in bed the pain was slightly tolerable while on the pain killer.  


Lonely...

adjective, lonelier, loneliest.

1.  affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome.

2.  destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc.:

a lonely exile.

3.  lone; solitary; without company; companionless.

4.  remote from places of human habitation; desolate; unfrequented; bleak:

a lonely road.

5.  standing apart; isolated:

a lonely tower.

(www.dictionary.com)

      I felt a loneliness I hadn’t felt in a long time.  I had been trapped in my 400 square foot apartment for weeks, with no television, no internet and my cell phone barely got service.  I felt like I was literally cut off from the rest of the world.  If I stood in just the right spot in my apartment, I could get enough signal to make a call.  For the first time in my life, I realized I needed my family.  I called my dad and stepmom, just to say hello.  I never really got along with her, she was always very mean to me as a child.  I didn't feel like I could be vulnerable to her and I was determined to stay strong.  I didn’t want to let them know the hell I was going through.  But I couldn’t keep it in.  I cried to my stepmom.  I told her it was because of the pain I was in.  She felt absolutely helpless to comfort me, I’m sure.  She was nearly 2,000 miles away.  She asked me if I had a candle and said that some people find comfort in watching the flame of a candle burn.  It was about all I could do; light a candle and watch it burn. 

     I sat in front of my electric wall heater for hours watching the flame from the candle flicker and played solitaire.  I tried desperately to do anything to get my mind off of it.  At times I would be staring at the candle and begin to cry and couldn’t stop.  I was still scared of what was happening to my body.  I stopped exercising.  I couldn’t lie to myself any longer.  I stopped working.  My doctor wrote a note explaining to my management that I was incapacitated and unable to work.  I went on the Family Medical Leave Act and a leave program that allowed others in my agency to donate their unused annual leave to me to cover my extended absence.  Without the help of coworkers who donated leave to me, I would have gone without a paycheck as well.  Friends and people I didn’t even know all came together to donate leave to me.  I was so very thankful to God for everything that was coming together despite the traumatic experience I was having with my health.
      Despite all my medical documentation I was turning into management, they were growing tired of my absence.  They started to doubt I was even ill.  They didn't understand how I could be so ill that I couldn't just sit at a desk and at least answer phone calls.  There were rumors around my office that I was faking it, and that maybe I should see a psychologist.  One rumor was reported to management that I was simply depressed because my boyfriend had broken up with me.
     That stung.  A lot. Because a part that was true.  My boyfriend did break up with me because I was so sick.  
     Each moment loitered around for as long as it pleased while I waited for my appointment with the rheumatologist.  The appointment was still one week away, not to mention 3 hour drive away.