I’ve been up since 4am because I can feel the stiff tightening of my ribcage, and it’s taking everything I have to keep from panicking.
It looks like March will be filled with doctors’ visits while they scramble to make sense of my symptomatology, only to arrive at the same worthless diagnosis I was given nearly 7 years ago: costochondritis.
They’ll begin the search again, hoping that something different will show up this time, and that the new something can actually be treated instead of managed. I’ll put on my hopeful face, too. We’ll play the same game where we try to connect the proverbial dots until we realize that nothing has changed in my body, and for whatever reason, it’s decided to wage another attack against itself.
This time will be different, though, because this time I can’t just take whatever medications they want to give me. Joshua and I are trying to start a family, so that knocks out many of the meds, especially the Celebrex. I’ll listen to them tell me they’re happy I’ve made the decision to be a mother, but that it’s ill-advised given my condition.
I need to stop reeling. It isn’t productive and probably gives the “Creature” a tighter hold.
Wish me luck — the next few weeks/months are going to be rough. Good thing I have my extra spoon! :)