Lesson 12: When Shit Happens, Scoop It Up and Throw It Away

As previously mentioned, I knew that when I met Nathan in March 2000, there was something different about him. I knew that he'd always be in my life. By July 2001, I knew he was The One.

Here's a quick synopsis of my life, external symptom-wise, from March-July 2001:

-lip and mouth ulcers
-impetigo across my face, under my arms, on my shoulders, down my shins
-random red spots all over my body
-purple-ish lesions on my face, hands, and feet

Here's a quick synopsis of my life, internal symptom-wise, from March-July 2001:

-coagulating blood
-yeast infections two to three times a month
-high ANA panel, a blood test that indicates autoimmune deficiency

Here's a quick synopsis of my life, potential diagnosis-wise from March-July 2001:

-endocarditis
-syphilis
-herpes
-HIV/AIDS
-discoid lupus
-rheumatoid arthritis
-erythyma multiformae
-CD IV (like AIDS, but not AIDS)
-at last, but not least, systemic lupus erythymous, or SLE for short

After my twenty-first birthday, I was hospitalized for five days for, at first, endocarditis. I certainly will not bore you, torment you, or frustrate you with the process of:

1.) being discharged with one diagnosis

2.) having the meds prescribed not work at all

3.) and not knowing what I had, how I had it, or what to do about it.

Instead, I will grace you with the process of:

1.) finding out I had SLE

2.) having lunch at Burger King

3.) and knowing what I had and what to do about it...but not how I had it.

Nathan had taken me to a clinic one day for some (more) blood work. My internist was still trying to figure out what the F was wrong with me. As I exited the clinic and got into his car, my cell rang. It might as well have been the Grim Reaper on the line. A close second, it was my internist. Tests came back. Indicated SLE. Should set up an appointment with rheumatologist. Call if I need her.

Now, Nathan had been great when we thought it was a rare reaction to the herpes virus earlier that summer. Very supportive. Researched a lot. Very understanding. Once we knew it wasn't, we expected some icky news.

I hung up the phone. Updated him through tears, numbness, and strife. (I forgot to mention that in the back seat was Jim, a man with cerebral palsy that Nathan worked with as a mentor in college.) So, Nathan, Jim, and I did what anyone else would do: we went to Burger King.

With a Whopper as my guide, I tried to process what was going on. I was pissed it took the doctors months to figure out what was the matter with me. I was pissed that all of the sudden, I had an autoimmune disease that might essentially eat away at my organs. I was pissed that I was only twenty-one and that my life would never be the same. I felt dark, dim, doomed.

Now, let's try to guesstimate what may have been going through Nathan's mind:

1.) Poor Maggie.

2.) Poor me.

3.) How did I manage to finally find The Girl with a disease that will forever effect her life, our life, my life?

As he sat across the table from me, shoulder to shoulder with Jim, he looked pensive. While I spear-headed my own pity-party, I couldn't help but think about him. I felt scared. I felt guilty. I felt sorry. It only seemed fair to give him the out. Here was this handsome, intelligent, charming twenty-four-year-old young man, about to begin his adult life. We weren't engaged. We'd been together only a year. He'd look like a total dick if he dumped me, even though as far as I was concerned, would be warranted.

As we finished our fries and piled back up into his car to drive Jim home, I did what I knew was right. I explained to him that I would understand if he wanted to throw in the towel, admit he got a lemon, and end our relationship -- no questions asked. I was not about to let my unfortunate misfortune inhibit his life. He precociously responded, "Well, what are we talkin' here? I mean, are you going to be around for twenty years?" I explained that, yes, most people with SLE had a normal life expectancy. He replied, "Well, that'll work. I'm not going anywhere."

And that was it. Our relationship looked SLE square in the eye and said, "Fuck you."

From that June until Halloween, the course of my so-called SLE was anything but clear. I had it. I didn't. I might have early signs. I might not. The doctors seemed to know something was wrong, just not what. Lots of blood work. Lots of depression. But not lots of pity from Nathan.

I'm not gonna lie. My girlfriends were supportive (except one who told everyone behind my back that I was doing it for attention...because I could make my blood clot and erupt skin lesions evidently). Once Nathan decided to stick it out with me, it was almost like nothing ever happened. He was interested in learning about SLE, but not so interested in my case of it. Was he scared? Was he a jerk? Was he right? I think a little of all of the above. Let's ponder:

1.) Was he scared? Yes. He never said it then. However, in the summer of 2004, when some weird skin things popped up again on me, he told me he was. I can only imagine how scared he was in 2001, when my symptoms were 100 times worse.

2.) Was he a jerk? Yes. Flowers would have been nice for Pete's sake.

3.) Was he right? Absolutely. Did I want pity from him? Yes. Did I get it? No. What I got was very matter-of-fact guidance. "It's like cancer," he'd say. "You can sit in the corner all day and spend your time crying, or you can tell it to fuck off and get on with your life." It made sense. It'd motivate me, at least temporarily, to move on.

It was a challenging time individually. I think I have an inkling of what it must be like to suffer with chronic depression. I think I have an inkling of what it must feel like to find out you have cancer and it will never go away. I think I have an inkling of what it feels like to truly feel powerless, hopeless.

It was also a challenging time as a couple. Often times, women with SLE struggle to become and remain pregnant. At one point, I was told one of the most dangerous things for me to do would be to get pregnant. We had already discussed our practically burning desire to have kids. After the SLE diagnosis, we joked that we would be the only multi-cultural family in Wisconsin with our multi-ethnic adopted children. For quite sometime, the focus of our relationship was me, not us, and that had to have bothered him.

Now I understand Nathan's approach. You can't live your life afraid, or sad, or pissed. You have to just keep going. Shit happens. Your life depends on what you do with it. Some sit in the shit all day and sob. Some step in it and bring a bit with them everywhere they go. Some scoop it up and throw it out. Shit will always happen. How you handle it dictates your life.

As one who used to step in it and bring a bit everywhere I went, marrying one who scoops it up and throws it out has been rewarding. People don't want your life's terds all up in their carpet. It took me years to understand how shit could NOT ruin your life. I have learned from Nathan's resiliency, level-headedness, and attitude to scoop and throw. I am happier. More optimistic. More likely to laugh at life than cry over it, because Lord knows, if we didn't laugh, we'd cry.

Currently, I do not have SLE. In October 2001, after another round of blood tests, all the results were negative, leaving no indication of SLE or any autoimmune disease. Seems as though being on a prophylactic treatment of penicillin coupled with the pill and Diflucan (prescribed for chronic yeast infections), caused not systemic, but drug-induced lupus. Basically a mimicked form of SLE not caused by an autoimmune disease, but prescribed drugs. It's funny, isn't it, how life works out? I get an awful disease caused by medical doctors prescribing drugs. I marry a man who is a holistic chiropractor. In October 2001, I swore off pills. I have been nearly symptom-free for years under chiropractic care. How's that for a plug?

So, I knew what I had: lupus, and a great, great boyfriend. I knew what I had to do about it: get on with my life and hang onto that man! How did I have it? Well, the lupus thing was, as previously mentioned, drug-induced. The boyfriend? I don't know quite how I got him, possibly also drug-induced. My memory seems...dazed and confused. (Sorry again, Mom and Dad).