I Already Knew

I paid the rheumatologist a $40 copay today to tell me what I already know: I'm having symptoms of MCTD.

No, I wasn't diagnosed with anything. I had more blood drawn for tests which I'm sure will be positive, like they were in January. (Not being pessimistic; I already had positive results, and things like this don't change back to negative.) The doctor put me on Plaquenil, which is the main drug prescribed to patients with autoimmune disorders like Lupus and MCTD. He said it'll take about 2-3 months before the Plaquenil kicks in and I start to feel some relief from the joint pain and tiredness. I took my first one tonight, hoping the 2-3 months will go quickly.

I asked the doctor what the difference is between Lupus and MCTD. He said some doctors don't think there is a difference, but he does. He said the main difference is an antibody found in Lupus patients that isn't found in MCTD patients. The other difference is Lupus can affect the brain and liver, while MCTD doesn't. I asked how he knows someone has progressed into the stage where the disease is considered active. He said the person will have positive test results and also start showing symptoms. I guess it's as simple as that. As for my symptoms, the doctor said to take Advil or Aleve three times a day, plus the Plaquenil. If I am still in a lot of pain, he can start a round of steroids like Prednisone. I go back to see him in 8 weeks. And that's that.

I know the next thing y'all are champing at the bit to know is how I'm feeling about all of this. I'll admit that I cried as soon as I left the doctor's and called Dan. (I'm proud of myself for not crying in the doctor's office!) I don't want to go down this road. It sucks. I don't want to be on meds for the rest of my life. (And especially NOT Plaquenil - it has a sordid history and was a major issue between me and Mom.) It. Just. Sucks. That's all there is to it.

And then I take a step back and tell myself that I've gotta do whatever it takes to feel better. If it means medication forever, then so be it. And I tell myself it could be worse. It could be the C word, or some other awful disease or disorder. Thank God it isn't. At least now I have a game plan, and I'm doing something instead of sitting around on my butt just waiting and hoping that I'll miraculously start feeling better. God knows what He's doing, and is working through me through this. I have faith in that. I already knew what the doctor was going to say anyway. And I already know how this is all going to end. It's my choice on how I want to live with it, right?

P.S. In talking to Dan about this just now, I had an epiphany. The main reason I'm upset about any of this is because I have a big fear of turning in to my mother. So I need to keep reminding myself that no matter what diagnosis I might get, it's not going to be a diagnosis of, "I'm sorry. You're Brenda." I need to let go of that fear. I am not my mother.