Sick of being Sick

How man of you out there suffered from unknown, or undiagnosed ailments?

I you do, I feel your pain and have an immense amount of sympathy for you! My entire life I have struggled with one ailment after another.

In my first post I mentioned a nasty skin condition I had at the age of four. This was my first memorable mystery medical issue. I had developed rashes of blister all over my hands, feet, and back. I had to be carried from one place to another because of the blisters on the bottoms of my feet. My skin was so damaged it was bitterly falling off of me.

I went to so many doctors! One specialist after another. Multiple and extremely painful skin scrapings, blood drawings, and pokes of needles. All to no avail. The doctors finally threw their hands up and said, "It's stress. That's all that is left for a cause." My parents reaction was, "What kind of 4-year-old has so much stress their skin falls off?"

I can tell you what kind...The kind that is beaten by her mother, tortured by her two older sisters, and raped by her father! All with not having one friend in the world, and no one in the world to turn to.

I spent my entire summer with this skin condition indoors because my tender skin could not be in the sun. I spent endless hours by myself inside watching my cartoons, visiting with the unseen spooks of our home, and playing with my lovely dog. She would even let me ride on her back to get to the bathroom. Good thing she as a BIG dog.

In the first grade I began getting open sores on my scalp. By this time, my family was living in town, and the beatings had stopped for fear the neighbors would, heaven forbid, see my mothers true side. And my father was no longer a normal accessory in the home. In the garage yes, but not in the house. Even though, he was never around too much before.

I, again, was sent to specialist, only to no avail. My hair (which was beautiful, brown with natural blond highlights, and wavy and thick) began to fall out, and some sores even oozed. But, all I could do was wait it out. It took almost two years to be completely gone, and I still, to this day, suffer from breakouts every once in awhile.

Then, in the third grade, I was struck in the head by a flying kickball on the playground. The ball was kicked by a kid named Nick who was, with no doubt and exaggeration, the biggest kid in the whole 7 grades of our elementary, and he was only one grade above me. With his strength behind the flying missile, I was in for a hell of a bang.

I stood there talking with a friend waiting for the bell to ring for us to line up and minute, and BAM! I heard the tonk of the ball, that strange ringing sound kickballs are able to make, and everything went black.

I woke up to find the playground attendant, a lovely, mousy, college student who was extremely kind and a friend to all of us students. She had a worried look, and then I looked around to see a blur of student looking at me in astonishment. In the background I heard Nick, "Oh my God, oh my God! I am so sorry!"

I slowly stood, and felt an overwhelming wave nausea, and the whole Earth seemed to be tilting oddly on its axis. I was guided to the office, holding my now broken glasses in my hand. All I could think of was how furious my parents would be over my glasses. I remember being sat in a chair and hearing the secretary calling every number she could find to contact my parents. Finally, my mother called back from work only to refuse my leaving of school. She could not be bothered to leave work, and did not think the state I was in (which was short of passing out once again) was worth leaving over.

From this event, and the lack of care I received I believe my incessant migraine developed. I have yet to find a medication that limits the pain from my headaches.

I suffer from digesting issues, recurrent infections throughout my body, pelvic pain, and even swollen lymph nodes in my abdomen. All with no medical explanations. But, as I look back at my childhood I find all of these incidents, like the kickball incident, that seem to tie to a cause for my issues.

I am so sick of being sick. I cannot tell you of one year, shit... one month of my life where I was not sick, or in chronic pain of some sort. But, even with all of the pain I find I get a different look on life. I take full advantage of my good days, and I look at my past differently. I remember my good moments, yes, but I find a strange comfort in being able to tie this ailment to that event. At least when I cannot find a medical explanation.

It is amazing the impact our emotions and state of mentality has on our physical state. So, if I cannot find a treatment, I can at least understand my life a little differently.