In this blog, I’ll be following the chain of events described in the Groundswell of my health’s dissolution. I’d intended to post it sooner, however, much of what happened to me is lost in fog. Added to that, I’ve struggled with details I should or should not share. For all the hand-wringing, I’ve finally managed to produce the second part of the hellish saga this past year has been.
By January 1st, 2018, I was 124lbs—31lbs down from my former 155lbs. Sean enrolled me on his insurance plan, a managed healthcare consortium, meaning I needed a new doctor. My third specialist referred me to my fourth within its strict network. Bordering on destitute in more ways than one, I managed to keep hope alive by reminding myself that 2018 was the best time in human history to be ill.
I’d managed to secure full-time employment following my termination, and fortunately, it was a work-from-home position. I was able to work from the comfort of my couch. This worked out in my long-term favor, as I was often too ill to put myself together. Later, I would be too ill drive.
However, this meant that I was slowly becoming more and more immobile with each passing day. This bloomed into a bevy of health risks I couldn’t even begin to predict.
Before I go on, I must again express the following disclaimer: our bodies are all different. The expression of our diseases will be different even if we share a diagnosis. What works for me may not work for you. I can only share my experiences in the hope that they will help someone who may need the information.