And The Hits Just Keep on Coming ....

I had a few things on my platter called "If I worry about this, or even think about this I will spontaneously combust, burn up and dissolve into ash" but since they are not about me, but those I love more than life itself - it is not something that I have blogged about. Against the rules ... my life is an open book, but that does not mean that all involved with me have to have their lives stripped naked on my blog. That one involves testing and waiting makes that spontaneous combustion part seem all the more plausible that if I even dwell on it for a mere moment - so I have been carefully trying to ignore it all.

Then Sunday came and my world sort of tilted precariously and I find myself just hanging on by my fingernails. Familiar territory - but I am a bit rusty - things haven't been this bad for quite some time so my 'coping skills' are a wee bit rusty.

Was SO PROUD of myself for actually getting out of bed today (as opposed to yesterday where I spent most of the day laying in bed watching my ceiling fan blade turn ...) starting laundry, cleaning up a bit and decided that I would attack the pile of mail on my desk that I just couldn't be bothered to open lately. Doing good, girl! Was feeling like although I am heartbroken about a billion things I am still able to function like a normal person just a wee bit.

And then I got to this letter:

Yes, my doctor. The one after going to between 10 and 15 that told me that it was all in my head and scooted me out of their office - took TOTALLY DIFFERENT lab tests that showed that I was in deep shit medically. My T-Cells are very low and we cannot figure out why or how to boost them to something that my immune system would like and be able to keep me healthy. THAT Doctor.

That doctor. The one that is Nationally known for her work with AIDS and CFIDS patients and the remarkable results she is getting.

That doctor. The one that as I sit in the waiting room hear the other patients mention that they flew here from Montana, New Mexico, New York - because they need to see HER.

That doctor. The very first doctor to gently tell me that my chances of recovering fully were nil, but that she would do everything in her power to make my quality of life as good as we could possibly get it.

That doctor. The one that when I asked her to test me for Lyme Disease, seemed surprised, because it is basically unheard of in Texas, but said 'sure' as she has to EVERY SINGLE OTHER REQUEST I HAVE MADE.

That doctor. Basically the only doctor I trust these days ...

As I read further, they were not dropping my doctor per se, they were dropping the laboratory that does all her testing. Hmmmm - great! I can go see her - but since every time I go see her I get between 10 - 20 vials of blood drawn to see how all of the ever so much fun things my body is fighting a losing a battle with (Lyme Disease, Epstein Barr Virus, HHV-6 virus and on and on and on - not to mention that pesky T-Cell level) plus making sure my liver is not having trouble with the bucket load of pills I have to take daily - basically going to her would be going and not having a chance in hell that she could know where I was immune system wise if she could not do any testing.

I have a call into my doctor to see if they use more than one lab (I know they don't but I am rather desperate and in denial - I have seen how much my lab costs are monthly - and it is astronomical). So I will wait for the call that will tell me that I am SOL.


My life is totally FUBAR.



I have a feeling things are going to get really interesting, really quickly ...



and not in that fun, cool way ...