Friday, December 15, 2006

Scurvy Dog

My husband has never been well.

As a kid he had a spine deformity. In his early adulthood he was in a terrible car accident. He died on the table, and a back injury that was supposed to render him paralyzed causes him pain everyday.

Three years ago he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. Severe rheumatoid arthritis. We were told that he would need joint replacements and end up in a wheel chair in the next decade.

We made plans. We pushed my career, and we pushed every drug that was available into his body in hopes of a cure, we pushed him not to sit around and feel sorry for himself.

The drugs were brutal. They made him lose his hair, brought him down to 120 pounds. They were immunosuppresent drugs and when one month he got the flu he nearly died. He says he didn't but he was too sick to listen to what the nurses were saying when they were hooking up the ecg machine to him. He had to take four months off of work to rest and still let me inject him twice a week because he wanted to get better so he could take care of us.

For three years I have watched my husband stretch himself everyday just so he can be a good husband and father to daughters he chose rather than created.

His sickness seeped into every pore of our lives. Every decision we made was made with the question "Can he handle it?"

My husband is a great man. He put himself and his pain last so we could have a better life. He waddled his way to work everyday so he could be productive.

He was having a hard time a couple of months ago and went to go see his doctor. She told him he was in remission and should start taking flax seed as a maintenance therapy. He told her he thought this was weird because he was in so much pain. She left the office and came back in and told him in fact he was not in remission and started signing him up for a drug that costs 3000 bucks a month.

He left the office uneasy and decided to get a second opinion. About 3 weeks ago he met his new doctor and after some poking and prodding he mutter that Paul was not going to like what he was going say. He didn't think that Paul had RA. The doctor refused to say anymore until tests were done.

Today we went to the doctor for the results. I had to go with Paul. I couldn't let him take the diagnosis alone. The other diseases we looked at with the same symptoms were horrible and what if it was a new disease we hadn't thought of.

He was visibly upset in the office. His doctor came in and opened the incredibly organized file. He started going through the list of all the tests he ordered and confirmed Paul did not have RA.

Liver function, kidney function, and immune tests all normal.

Then we were told.

Paul has rickets. Osteomalacia in adults, severe vitamin D deficiency. Common in these parts due to the lack of enviromental vitamin D.

He said that this diagnosis may not be exactly it. But reading between the lines we could see that there really is not anything else.

5000 mg for three months, 1000 mg for the rest of his life. If this is the problem my husband should be feeling better in 6-8 weeks.

I have tortured my husband for years giving him needles. For three years his life has been an exisitence only for some of the time.

All he needed was a jug of milk.

I am very angry.


Anonymous Ken Doll said...

hmmmmmmmmmmm..... (i erased the word: fuuuuuuuuuuuck)

9:56 PM  
Blogger Mike Rea said...

I can understand the frustration but on the other hand...Praise God!

6:48 AM  

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