Infection under the boob, soul-crushing constipation, and blood test that read like a thriller.

 

Yesterday was a complete shit-show-in more ways than one.  I rolled into my rheumatology appointment feeling like a wobbly Jenga tower. Of course, that’s because, life decided to throw everything at me at once.  Let me paint you the picture:

I’d just got hit with the news, I have an infection in one of my incisions (antibiotic round 5 this year). Oh, and let’s just say, the incision is under the boob. Just as awful as you’d think it would be. Then came the grand finale:  The most soul-crushing constipation you can imagine.  I’m talking ‘I’d rather wrestle a grizzly bear’ level of agony.  MiraLax, stool softeners, fiber smoothies, you name it, I’ve tried it.  But after every surgery in the last 5 years, anesthesia seems to turn my intestines  into a locked vault.  “One Enema: The Reckoning” later, and I emerged victorious- finally back in business, albeit bruised in spirit.  Doctors, please, let’s get real about postoperative constipation- it deserves its own caution pamphlet.

Clutching my water bottle, and whatever dignity I had left, I braced for the blood-work bombshells:

• ANA:  Negative.  Great.  Apparently it’s a prickly bastard that ignores my four-year history of Type 1 diabetes and Hashimoto’s.
• RF (Rheumatoid Factor): 12.1 so no RA
• CCP (Cycilc Citrullinated Peptide): 165–one-sixty-five! That’s blow your socks off high. (this is the antibody found in the blood of someone with Rheumatoid Arthritis)

My doctor and I stared at these numbers like kids confronted with Brussels sprouts.  He muttered something about RA hiding in the lymphatic system- as rare as that would be, but possible. It looks like we’ve hit a road block for now.  So now we are in the “wait and see” limbo.  More test are on the horizon to keep the suspense alive.

Oh, and just for kicks, my heart decided it felt left out, and joined the party.  A few weeks prior to surgery, my heart rate started to drop.  While I was in the hospital, it was a whopping 38bpm.  So, now I have a new doctor to add to my collection.  I’m off to see a Cardio-oncologist. Cue the echocardiogram and a new purse full of cables to monitor my heart rate.  My theory?  Those angry lymph nodes  were cozying up to my heart, and now that they’re gone, things should settle back down.  But of course, we will play the game, and make sure nothing sinister is lurking.

So the question remains. Is this a new autoimmune disorder? Or is this all from a small neuroendocrine tumor found in my lung? Has this battle just been about this tumor? I had never heard of such a thing before all of this. I’m as confused as the next person.

Through it all, I’m clinging to clean eating, yoga stretches, and the stubborn belief that each day makes me a little stronger.  When life hands you constipation and mystery blood markers, you dust yourself off. Refill your water bottle, and remind yourself, healing is messy, but I’ve got this.