I can't believe it took me two years to get around to reading up on lupus. I'm a person who reads up on everything. I guess I've been in denial, which is not something I believe in except that I've obviously been doing it. I suppose parenting my child through her first three years hasn't left me with much time to think anything, except "Crap, I'm not getting my job done," but what parent doesn't think that?
Today at the library, almost on a lark, I checked out a bunch of books on lupus, along with books about genealogy, art forgery, and other random topics. I've started reading the first one, and it's finally dawning on me: this is some serious shit I'm in.
The pain and fatigue are not going to go away. More serious treatments than what I'm on would leave me immuno-compromised. The lupus could attack my brain. And they wouldn't know it, because until you start having seizures or go psychotic, they don't have a way to diagnose it.
And maybe worst of all, everything about my job is making my lupus worse. The only way to do my job is to get the lupus in remission, and the only way to get the lupus in remission is to stop doing my job.
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