Stricken Unaware, My Life Changed Drastically

We often hear of folks suddenly being stricken with an illness, but like car accidents, we never think it will happen to us. That's how I felt back in 1996 when I was working full time (plus extra hours) as a newspaper editor.

Yes, I had some problems, such as carpal tunnel, asthma and occasionally, pain in my hips and legs if I overdid it. However, I just assumed that nothing would change or get worse, so I continued working at the job I truly loved. After working all day in the office, as well as darting out to take pictures or get a story, I would come home, eat and clean up as fast as I could. I needed to get back out the door to perhaps get an evening interview or take photos at a hockey game. Sometimes, there would be a play for me to review, a council meeting or some special event that demanded my presence.

By the time I'd get back home, it would be anywhere between 9 to 11:30 p.m. The next day, I'd be up at 6:30 or 7 a.m. I'll admit that was a hectic schedule, what with things I had to do at home, as well as attending my daughter's sporting events. However, I truly enjoyed jumping into my red Ford Mustang convertible with my notepad in hand and camera slung over my shoulder. During the day, I also had a briefcase with me.

Life was good – very good. I was living with a nice fellow and we were engaged to be married. We lived in a great big house with a huge pool set in a garden in the back yard. On weekends, I tried to spend at least some time enjoying the place.

Then, out of the blue, tragedy struck.

I got up one beautiful May morning, took my shower as usual, got dressed and sat down at my night table. As I was putting on my mascara, I suddenly felt dizzy and toppled right over from my chair. My partner found me and helped me to the bed. He then called my doctor and asked if I could come in right away. As I moved from the bed, I felt extremely shaky, but with his help, we got to the car and were on our way.

The doctor was baffled and sent me for some tests. He also told me I must take six weeks off work and relinquish my license immediately. I guess this is the procedure when one collapses suddenly like that. So there you have it. I was stopped in my tracks, unable to jump into my shiny red convertible or go to work.

Over the next 24 hours, pain began to invade my body, from my neck right down to my feet. I was also so tired that I could barely sit up. I was stunned, to say the least and very worried, as I had no idea what was wrong with me. Over the six weeks, I had every test known to man or so it seemed. Nothing and I mean nothing could be found. The pain was constant and I was really frustrated. The doctor gave me a prescription for Tylenol 3s, which helped to take a bit of the edge off, but really didn't do much.

After the six weeks were up, I still felt like a Mac truck had hit me, but I had no choice about whether I should return to work. There were bills to pay and my partner coaxed me on. To be honest, I really missed my job and was determined that whatever was wrong with me it would not stop me from enjoying it.

For the next six months, I plugged along. Some days were just unbearable and I'd have to find a quiet spot to lie down for a few minutes at work. Other days, I managed but it was difficult. I started to have other symptoms as well, including an irritable bowel and insomnia, which really got in the way of my job responsibilities.

At this point, my doctor was ready to send me to a shrink, which really upset me. We talked about that and he decided to send me to an arthritis specialist first. It's a good thing he did. The specialist poked and prodded, while I jump at each touch and couldn't stop crying. He knew right away that I had fibromyalgia and gave me some pills that were actually uppers, but he said they would ease the pain.

Over the next year, I went through several different medications, but nothing did more than take a slight edge off the pain. However, I continued to diligently work and tend to my home responsibilities. I also went to physiotherapy for my joints and hands, but after several months of that, I realized it was taking much needed time, as well as not working. How could it? As soon as I left physiotherapy, I went right back to doing things that exacerbated the pain.

I also learned during that time that I had osteoarthritis, osteoporosis and spinal stenosis. Well for another six months or so, I struggled desperately to keep going. Then other, more serious job-related problems developed. I had a habit of writing down all my appointments and interviews, so I wouldn't forget any of them. It had always worked for me, but during this time I forgot a number of meetings, scheduled interviews and so on. Other days, I'd remember the appointment, but totally forget my camera or I'd have my camera but no film.

Then something really frightening happened. I got in my car with all the necessities, but as I pulled out of the lot, I totally forgot where I was going. Yes, I had the address right beside me on my notepad, but I could not remember where that street was. Now, understand that I knew my territory like the back of my hand. There was no reason in the world for me to forget that street but for the life of me, I couldn't remember. Was I loosing my mind? Was I getting senile already? This and other similar brain drains really upset me. I was no longer the competent journalist, who always arrived early to where she needed to be and made sure everything was done on time. Hell, I didn't get there at all!

I soon realized that the pain I suffered through each day was also affecting my mental well being. This added a great deal of stress on top of everything else and if you know anything about fibromyalgia, you know stress just makes it 10 times worse. Needless to say, I was not getting along with my boss, as he expected things to continue on a normal keel and there was no way I could keep up. My job culminated with both of us yelling at the top of our lungs over one lousy story. Before he could fire me, I quit and walked (limped) out.

Thus, my career as a journalist ended, thanks to an illness that snuck up on me so insidiously and quickly. The worst part of my problems was that nothing was visibly wrong with me from the outside. Other than looking perhaps, strained due to the pain, no one could actually see that I was sick. Within weeks of my unexpected and unwelcome retirement, my partner turned on me. He insisted I find another full-time job and fast. Of course, I knew I'd never pull it off. After a number of very frustrating arguments, he decided it would be best that I leave. I couldn't believe it.

I have now been retired for 8 years and am now on morphine, thanks to a wonderful doctor I found about two years ago. Over those years, my desire to write never waned. To date, I have written four books and I think it's safe to say that I will probably write another. I'm just waiting for the right story to come along. Unlike some very talented folks who write amazing fiction, I seem to be much better at real life stories that hopefully, others can learn from. Currently, I await the release of my fourth book and for now, I am content to write for friends and acquaintances on Gather, sharing both my words and my life.