A Day in the Life of an Autoimmune Warrior

I had a stressful visit to my doctor yesterday and I think I need to write about it.  You see, I was seeing my favorite doctor, who is a woman (that matters because I've been sexually abused by male doctors before) for my quarterly pain management appointment.  I was seeing the doctor that I am the most comfortable with, so I thought it would be okay to proceed with my well woman visit, as well.  I was wrong.  As soon as I started to get undressed for it, I started to have flashbacks.  I was also in a bladder flare due to Interstitial Cystitis, so I knew that it was going to be painful.  She did me a favor that no doctor has ever done.  She offered me vaginal lidocaine for a pap smear.  Of course, I jumped on her offer!  Unfortunately, even with the lidocaine and her being as careful as possible, I'm still in a lot of pain today.  My IC is even more flared than it was yesterday, but at least I know this test is done for the next 5 years - hopefully.  I have had high-risk HPV before and at any point that can come back, so I am nervously awaiting the results of this test.  My anxiety is at an all-time high with this one.

As if the unexpected and painful pelvic exam wasn't enough, I also had to have 6 vials of blood drawn from me!  This is extremely relevant because I have recently been unable to bring myself to get it done.  I have severe medical anxiety, and it has gotten even worse because Scleroderma is giving me difficult veins.  Most phlebotomists cannot get my blood drawn properly.  If they can, it takes several jabs and jerking around inside of my arm, hitting nerves along the way.  I used to go to the Oncology Lab at Deaconess in Spokane because they are familiar with bad veins.  Well, the lab has moved to a new floor and only Oncology patients are allowed to be seen there.  My Scleroderma is not a good enough reason for them to waive the rules.  I explained all of this to Cassandra, and she asked me if anyone in her office has been successful and I told her Tammy has had no issues in the past, so Cassandra asked Tammy if she would be willing to try for me.  Bless her soul, she got it done on the first try!  I could have cried happy tears for her getting it so easily.  I went to that other lab and had a hyperventilating panic attack both times and could not go inside to get my bloodwork done, no matter what.  I ended up fighting with Michael each time due to the panic attack.  He is sometimes less than helpful when I get upset.  Bless him for trying, though.  The good news is that all of my blood tests came back normal, so both of my autoimmune diseases are in good shape and will hopefully continue to be.  We just need the results of the pap smear to be able to close this chapter of my story.

By the end of my doctor's appointment, Cassandra could see that I was worn out from everything I had gone through.  She knows all about my C-PTSD and sexual trauma, so she knows to use kid gloves with me.  I love her for that.  I also love that she does not gaslight me or dismiss any of my concerns.  She didn't have to offer lidocaine or even listen to me about how much it's going to hurt, but she did.  She listened to me, found a compromise that made me comfortable enough, then proceeded with it.  She talked to me each step of the way and she went just as fast as possible.  If the rest of my doctors had as much respect for me as Cassandra does, I would never have medical anxiety again.  Why is Cassandra's bedside manner the exception instead of the rule?  Why do we, as women, have to endure abuse and gaslighting before a doctor will listen to us?  I am so sick and tired of being mistreated at doctor's offices, but I remain grateful that there is at least one doctor's office that I can trust I will be listened to.  

After I got home last night, things were not great, mentally.  I was in a dark place and having a lot of flashbacks about other medical procedures that have traumatized me over the years.  My C-PTSD is not just from sexual abuse.  It was also physical, mental, emotional and medical.  The medical trauma stands out more than anything these days.  I have been through procedures that would make most people shake with fear, but I persevered through them all because healing was more important to me.  That's what a warrior does.  That's what I do.  I persevere.  My head was in such a dark place that I would not even let my husband touch me and I rarely say no to him.  He is always understanding, though, so saying no is not a big deal to him.  I'm blessed to have a partner who does not pressure me to do anything uncomfortable or painful.  Our sex lives took a hit when I got Interstitial Cystitis.  We're still learning to adapt to it.  Michael gave me all the space that I needed last night, and he didn't complain when I went to bed early.  He knew I would come around in time and I did this morning.  By the time I woke up today, I felt much better about everything that happened yesterday.  I'm glad that I got the testing all taken care of.  Now, I don't have to worry about it for quite some time.  I can do difficult things, even if I must do them scared.  

Today, I have a much better outlook on life, and I am grateful for that, too.  I try to keep a positive mindset as much as I can, but sometimes that's just not possible for me.  I have been given a shitty hand in life, but I still show up for myself and my loved ones each and every day.  I have been through trauma and abuse that would end most people's existence, but I carry on through it all.  This is what a day in the life of the warrior looks like.  It looks like panic attacks and flashbacks, while persevering through it all.  I do this in so many different ways in my autoimmune life.  I'm scared of my own shadow, so every test, appointment and procedure terrify me.  I tell my doctors to treat me like a scared 5-year-old girl because that is basically what I am.  They all laugh because they don't realize how serious I am.