I am a 32 year old woman with the health of an 80 year old. I find great joy in my marriage to my "Hubs" and in our three daughters "Oldest" (9 years old), "Middlest" (7 years old) and "Youngest" (6 years old).
I used to think of myself as "healthy" person. The truth is that looking back my body has never been a paragon of health. Starting at a few years old I managed to catch strep throat anytime I walked past someone infected. I also had the first of many pinched nerves in my neck causing intense pain. In general, though, I went through life as any other child: making mud pies, setting up lemonade stands, and generally being happy and carefree. A mishap on an overfilled trampoline also provided my first neck / back injury which recurred several times. The joys of the trampoline have been denied ever since, as the doctor declared another such slip could cause permanent paralysis.
After entering the double digits and entering into the teenage years life became much more complicated. As my parents went through divorce many of us because quite ill. My specialty was throat infections. I ended up with constant fevers, blisters coating the back of my throat, severe pain, and no diagnosis. I missed weeks of school and took more medications than I could possibly remember. Interstate relocation landed my mother with the younger end of the children (I'm the 7th of 8 children and many of the olders were married and/or off to college). As soon as we moved the throat infection returned. Without the option to go through more mystery treatments we simply waited it out. It took a great deal of time but did finally clear. Another move a few months later led to another inflammation of my throat. Since these early teenage years I've only had this throat issue a handful of times, but each time it has been accompanied by unusual amounts of stress.
High School years introduced joint complications. From fourth grade until not long before graduating from college I was almost always involved in at least one form of dance. Dancing gave me a creative outlet and provided strength and flexibility. I also was greatly involved in music and despite my love of music I developed overuse injuries in my hands / wrists / elbows / shoulders / and neck. Wrist splints, ace bandages, rheumatology appointments where I don't feel I was ever properly cared for, heat packs, ice packs -- these all became a part of life. My feet started to break down with fallen arches and occasional bouts of tendinitis on the top of my feet. As hormones began to take over my life, as it does to all teens, hereditary depression started messing with my head. And body. I thought that admitting to depression would mean I was weak. I was scared to complain about anything else as I felt rumbles that perhaps I was just "attention seeking" since life was stressful. I didn't understand what was going on in my body and from time to time I simply gave up and decided that I'd just have to live with it all.
College brought a general relief in the repetitive strain injuries. They still popped up from time to time, but I could wear my custom wrist splints from time to time without too much interruption. Pinched nerves in my neck creating pain all the way to my fingertips were managed with anti-inflammatory and a few rounds of physical therapy, some of which even helped. I remained in good physical shape with a great deal of walking and taking dance classes every time I could fit one in. Up through all this time I was able to eat what I wanted when I wanted without worrying about weight gain.
Near the end of my college years I met and fell for my Hubs. We were engaged during the final year of my classroom studies and newly married while I spent a year teaching fourth grade. I still had to be careful with my joints and had physical therapy exercises to do regularly. Depression hovered in the background, but I was generally able to manage it. The first year of teaching in a elementary school is somewhat akin to submerging ones-self in a soup of contagious diseases! I had my share of viral infections but did reasonably well. At the end of the school year I was 6 months pregnant with our first child. The pregnancy was relatively difficult with daily vomiting throughout the entire pregnancy (though never during the hours I had children in my classroom, thankfully).
Three daughters were born within fewer years than we'd ever expected. After a decade or so of a stomach of stone I became one of those people who would throw up at the slightest provocation. My second pregnancy was harder than the first, though it was easier in that I was able to be a full time homemaker. With a toddler and a difficult pregnancy I ended up in and out of the hospital over a dozen times before "Middlest" was born. I had terrible episodes of pain that were finally attributed to hydronephrosis (fluid backed up) in the right kidney. The kidney pain would set off contractions, which sent me back to the hospital for monitoring, injections, and pain control. During this pregnancy my depression spiraled out of control. Finally I was started on antidepressants. Within several days of starting the medication it was as if I just woke up one day. Suddenly I felt like myself again! My third pregnancy was close on the heels of the second (which we hadn't really intended), but in many ways was much easier. The complication this time, however, was a major spike in my anxiety issues. My hands constantly shook and I was jumpier than a cat in a rocking chair factory!
**to be continued**
