I'm a redeemed child of God and the momma to four vivacious daughters. I'm passionate about finding hidden blessings in the trials of life, living it out in an honest and open way, while encouraging those around me to believe in better.


discouraged. but not broken.

Just got home from the doctor.  Just my regular follow-up appointment.

I’m feeling discouraged and wanted to talk about it.  CJ, quite literally, just got in from Coppenhagen … but went to pick up the girls from school.  He’s still in “travel mode” and said we’d talk when he got back.  I was in tears, but said it wasn’t bad news.  Nor good news.  Really, it was just no news.

And I guess that’s why I’m feeling discouraged.

There’s a physician’s assistant that I usually see when I go, or when I call, he’s the one who calls me back.  I think I’ve only seen my real doc for a total of 5 minutes.  So this other guy is the one I’ve been talking to, dealing with, and I feel, knows me and my symptoms.

So who did I see today?  A new physician’s assistant.  Which is fine.  I get it.  I get the docs are busy and they have helpers.  I’m down with that.

The only problem is … this guy doesn’t know me.

So he does my exam.  I’m walking toe to heal, and I’m wobbly.  Ever so slightly, but I feel it.

Asks me to touch my nose, and instead I hit my eyebrow {btw, I’ve passed this test the last couple times I’ve taken it … and no CJ, I haven’t been “practicing“}.

He also has me stand with both my feet together and close my eyes.  I feel myself sway to the right.  Then he pushes me and I sway again.

“Tickles” the bottom of my right foot.  It wiggles.  “Tickles” the bottom of my left foot.  Nothing.

“Your exam looks great,” he says.  Hmmm.  Didn’t feel great, I think.

The doc comes in and says everything looks great.  I asked, “what if I felt it didn’t.  I felt that this exam was worse than my last exam.”

“Well, let me see.”  So he does a few things.  But concedes, “your exam looks great.”

What about the stabbing pain in my left foot that’s started the last couple months … Nothing we can do about that.  Let us know if it gets worse though.

What about the new numbness I’m feeling?  … Nothing we can do about that.

What about the fact that I can’t pee?  … Nothing we can do about that.  Let us know if it gets worse though.

My complete exhaustion?  The fact that I want to lay down in the middle of the hallway and fall asleep for years?  … Are you drinking caffeine {I’m kidding}.  Nothing we can do about that.

What about the decreased sensation on my left side?  Nothing we can do about that.

Alrighty then … we’ll send you down for some lab work and see in you 4 months.

Really?!?  I made my next appointment and started crying in the elevator.

It’s discouraging knowing I have to live with this.  Live with my symptoms.  It’s the super sucky thing about this disease.  Super sucky.  Super sucky.

Did I mention how sucky it is to have half your body numb?  Or to suddenly feel like a sword just went through the top of your foot?  And there’s nothing that can be done about it?

It’s sucky.

Super sucky.

I went down and had my lab work done.  Then got back in the elevator.  With a woman that was hooked up to oxygen and could barely breathe.

Then I thought … I’m happy I can breathe.

It sucks to be numb, but at least I can breathe.  :)

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Posted in multiple sclerosis

17 Responses to “discouraged. but not broken.”

  1. Amy says:

    Wow. You are an unbelievable blogger and inspiration. Beautiful heartfelt post, per usual.

  2. Lisa Mahnke says:

    i am thinking how happy i am that you can “breathe” too. but not happy with how you feel, i am SO sorry, and will continue praying for you.

  3. Heather says:

    i love you and i’m praying for a better answer than “nothing we can do about that” from the doctors soon. i know many who read this blog are praying for you, but i would like to ask everyone to pray for those researching MS…may they develop better medicines, find a cure, help all those affected by this terrible disease.

  4. LobotoME says:

    oh tracie…. hang in there. ps – i’ll email you.

  5. That sucks. Good thing you can breath…lol joke!!
    I hate it when you loose the personal feeling your suppose to have with a doctor. Is it time to move on to someone else? I’m not in your shoes, and I hardly know you, but its my offering of help that I can give across internet blogging wires…I can offer a intercession of prayer too…

  6. cyndi says:

    I wish I had the words to take your pain away. I wish I knew of an old wives tale that contained something that would work to ease the numbness. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you that everything will be ok. Unfortunately, I’m at a loss.

    What I can tell you, however, is that I will continue to keep you in my prayers and I will continue to send positive thoughts + vibes your way. You are such a strong lady and I know you will find a way to deal with this challenge. You are such an inspiration and I so proud to know you :-)

  7. Cathy says:

    Ugh. It’s just so deflating to hear to hear those words from the docs, isn’t it!? I’m praying. For your strength. For the docs to realize that there IS something they can do.

    Thank you for opening yourself up this way. It can’t be easy to reveal yourself and your struggles…and so many people admire you and take inspiration from your strength.

  8. Oh Tracie. How frustrating. You are such an optimistic, positive person and sometimes, especially now, you just want someone to stop and really listen to your fears. I’m sorry they didn’t do that for you today, I’m sorry they didn’t help you leave feeling better than when you came in. Fortunately, God has wired you to be able to do that all on your own, with that wonderful lady you passed on the elevator as a reminder. Stay strong, you are such an inspiration. Praying that your pain goes away~ hugs

  9. Tracie D says:

    I was discouraged reading your blog but uplifted the way it ended. I’m glad you can breathe too.

  10. Sue says:

    Is it okay to cry for you and anyone else with MS? Maybe I’m having an emotional morning but this shouldn’t be happening to you or the lady in the elevator who needs oxygen. But, you’re right, we have so much more to be grateful for when we think life is delivering us hard punch. Tracie, I’m praying for you that one day you’ll go in to see your doctor and your symptons will be better.

  11. Cindy B says:

    Tracie~you are in my thoughts and prayers often…

  12. Jane says:

    Beautiful girl. Your words are a gift given to all who have the privelege of listening. Bear hugs to you, sweet lady!

  13. Abbie says:

    I hate that you are feeling so badly. There’s nothing more frustrating than getting no answers at the doctor’s office. I will keep you in my thoughts.

  14. rachel says:

    my mom’s mantra in those moments: “It doesn’t hurt (mostly), and it’s not going to kill me”.
    Thanks for being willing to share your tumultuous journey and raise awareness of this oft-overlooked disease.

  15. Jeannie says:

    I’m so sorry to hear about your struggles. Hugs to you.

  16. refinement says:

    […] to content {home}{about}{featured}{contact} {tsj} photography too blessed to be stressed « discouraged. but not broken. good golly gee! » refinement By tracie | Published: December 15, […]

  17. […] after yesterday’s discouragement … I trust in a God who has a plan for me.  I rest in that […]

Leave a Reply

share your last post?