Yes. I went there. I made that beautiful, horrible pun. The opportunity presented itself and I took it. Really, though, this is going to be another serious post, and after that... Well, they'll probably be serious with an undertone of humor. My horrible sense of humor. If you haven't guessed it, we're going to be exploring my journey to this diagnosis.
This is going to be put into a few parts. I don't want to drown you in an ocean of punctuation and words.
So, let's jump into my beautiful, blue police box and head back to October of 2013!
~Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey~
Okay, sorry. I couldn't resist the Doctor Who references. As you will find out over time, I'm somewhat of a nerd/geek/what have you, and I am PROUD!
Really, though, let's get back on track from my short attention span.
So! October of 2013. I had a new job at a BEAUTIFUL department store, with wonderful people and amazing managers. I had just gotten it that summer and was doing really well. I loved it, and couldn't imagine doing anything else at the time. I am one of those weird people who actually enjoy retail employment, as I love helping others. I did a little bit of everything there honestly, and had been talking with managers about working towards possible promotion. So needless to say, my life was going pretty dang well.... But then fate decided to take a big ol' dump on it.
We were busy putting returns away from the Christmas season one shift that month, and as the night went on, my left side really started to hurt. Now, I'm very in tune with my body and I am aware of every little ache and pain, even the slightest little tickle. If something is out of place, I will know. I like to stalk my body and it's feelings. This, however, was not normal and it was a bit concerning to me. I was really close to just driving to ER after work (because I was too stubborn to do anything about it while working. Bending over was almost impossible, but yet, I kept at it! Having the parents I do you would understand why this work ethic was instilled into me). Well, I ended up there anyways, about a week later, with something called Pancreatitis.
Now, for those of you who don't know what this is... It's painful. Worst feeling I've ever experienced. I'm the type of person who, as stated in the above paragraph, will work through anything. Dad would complain that I wasn't really sick and didn't need to stay home from work/school when ill, because I'd be up and about, dancing and hopping on one foot as if nothing was wrong. That's just how I am. This, however, totally took me down for the count.
My pancreas was producing too much of the enzymes Lipase and Amylase, which causes the pancreas to start dissolving. Basically, my pancreas was starving and tried to eat itself. Pancreases are masochistic and enjoy hurting themselves when they get upset, apparently. If I've learned anything, DO NOT ANGER YOUR ORGANS. It hurts like a mother.
While doing my own research on Pancreatitis, that this is deadly. The ER doctors were of NO help to me. I had a very high Lipase (this is an enzyme your pancreas makes. If elevated, it shows problems with your pancreas' function). He sent me home with pain meds and wished me luck! If you don't catch it it time or take care of it properly, well... That's not good. Not good at all. It CAN kill you. It had me down and missing work for a good two weeks, living off of a liquid diet and crashing on the couch in front of the big screen TV. For someone who loves food as much as me... The liquid diet was torture in itself, almost more so than the actual pain.
It should also be noted, that this condition is not common in people my age or younger. It is something that is typically brought on by those who consume obscene amounts of alcohol. (Okay, you caught me. I spend my nights in a bar, regular crowd shuffling in, with an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin). It's just very unheard of that someone my age gets it, and they COULD NOT figure out why I had it. This is very important to keep in mind.
Well, this is what we call a traumatic event on your body. Anytime your body goes through something that takes you down like that, it's considered traumatic because your body had to use a lot of energy and do some extra credit work to ensure your well being.
Why is this important? POTS is usually brought on after something traumatic happens to the body. It is common to see it occur in women who have just gone through child birth or some kind of virus that weakened your body. It's actually MOST common in women, but I'm not entirely sure just yet why that is. And then other times... It just happens, and you won't ever know why.
Everything was totally fine after that, I felt AMAZING and went back to work with a skip in my step, thinking that nothing would ever take me down like that again.
See where I'm going with this? That's all we'll touch right now, in this post. I'll start working on the next one as soon as I can, to separate this into smaller sections to make it a bit easier to read. Once we get past all the technical and boring stuff, everything will be better. I should hope, at least. You won't have to listen to me droll on and on as if you were sitting in a college professor's lecture.
So, until next time! I bid you adieu and wish you well!
- Rosie
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