Off the Mark
I am slowly learning that conclusions should never be made lightly. Or without first exhausting all other possibilities.
I remember canceling our New Year’s Eve plans to sit in a RediClinic with a 101.2 fever, cough, and congestion. Naturally, I came to the conclusion that I had caught whatever cold virus my wonderful offspring had gifted me around Christmastime. {insert eye-roll emoji here} I had a sinus infection and one infected ear on the verge of rupturing so she hit me with a steroid shot and prescribed me a Z-Pack.
After a week of no improvements and increasing pain/pressure in my head, I went to my PCP to find I had now developed a double ear infection which had then ruptured both of my eardrums. So I was prescribed another round of antibiotics as well as a steroid pack and told to see an ENT.
My ENT jumped to the conclusion that I would most likely need sinus surgery (as surely, this was the cause of the continuing headaches). But, following the CT scan, he ruled out any sinus blockage or infection, and referred me to a neurologist.
Neurologist #1 jumped to the conclusion that I had Occipital Neuralgia - a condition in which the nerves that run from the top of my spinal cord to my scalp were either inflamed or injured. In fact, when I mentioned that my headaches all began following an infection, he interrupted me and said, “That’s unimportant and unrelated. Please skip to the part where your headaches began.”
His conclusion led to the suggestion of nerve blockers injected in my lesser and greater occipital nerves. For my fellow mamas, imagine an epidural inserted into your neck and the back of your head. It felt traumatic, especially since I came in assuming I MUST have a brain tumor (because who else goes to see a neurologist if not for someone who needs Dr. Derek Shepherd to save your life). I left with zero relief, zero understanding, and a whole lot of anger geared toward the man-child that just stuck needles into my scalp. He concluded that relief would come, over the course of a few hours or days, and that a follow-up was unnecessary. His conclusion was wrong.
I’ve run into a few medical specialists who claim to have found the conclusion to my issues. And yet not one of them have been correct… or at least not entirely correct. The struggle has been to find a doctor (or rather a TEAM of doctors) who will take the time, effort, energy, and patience to think outside the box, since CLEARLY this is not your run-of-the-mill sickness.
In a similar way we tend to make conclusions about other people without going through the effort of truly getting to know WHY the person is the way he is. The moments we spend with others are mere glimpses or snapshots on their life’s reel. Therefore, making conclusions about why others are the way they are is essentially passing a judgement on someone. And more often than not, those judgements are permanent and extremely hard to overcome.
Maybe an example would be helpful here…
Think back to the last time you saw a homeless person on the side of the road. Everyone’s responses are different - some will offer assistance or a smile while others immediately conclude that “they’ve gotten themselves into that situation and can get themselves out". Another conclusion might be that his family has abandoned him.
I don’t think I will ever make a quick conclusion about a homeless person again. Because, well, my brother has been homeless for the majority of his adult life. Yes, he is an addict. Yes, he has made some poor decisions that have led him to where he is today. Yes, he has begged for money to “feed” his addiction. But that’s only PART of his story.
Josh suffers from bi-polar disorder and schizophrenia. He is considered a “dual diagnosis” - he doesn’t fit into a traditional rehab facility (since he needs to be medicated for his disorders) or a mental health facility (because he suffers from addiction). He’s been to jail a few times and now has a hard time finding a job. He has a family who loves him dearly and has tried many times to help him. But there is a point where the “helping” turns to “enabling” - a fine balance that’s uneasy to conclude.
“Josh is so much more than homeless. Or drug addict. Or lost.”
Just like I need to remind myself that I am so much more than a mom. Or wife… Or a patient.
We have yet to find a conclusion as to why my body is under attack - debilitating headaches, vision changes, numbness in my extremities, low-grade fever, muscle twitches, and hearing loss. And part of me wonders if we ever will. So instead of constantly focusing on bringing this chapter of my life to a close, I am trying to find contentment. And joy. And an identity apart from my sickness.
