It hits out of nowhere. And when I say hit, I mean like an IV narcotic. Imagine you are in pain, excruciating pain. You want to scream at the slow moving nurse to give you relief as fast as possible! She screws in the syringe and slowly pushes the narcotic. You count the agonizing seconds, when the relief crashes over you like a mis-timed ocean wave, and you sink back in dizzying quiet.
Now read that story backwards, substitute pain for fatigue and weakness, and that’s what I deal with when I say, “Energy crash.” And unlike a pain medication that wears off in 2-4 hours, my crashes can last days.
It feels like a dark room; isolating, unending, hopeless. Why? Because hardly anyone understands, including most doctors. Nearly everyone I meet look at me and say, “Oh, so you’re just tired” when I try to explain. Yes, I’m tired. I have three children under the age of 5, including a baby. I single parent up to five days a week, every week. My oldest child is not yet in school. So yes, of course I’m going to be tired! I’m a mom, so by definition I’m not allowed to complain about being tired. Or so it feels…
But today, for the first time, I can sense hope. It’s a trace amount, like something you know you’ve smelled before but can’t place where. Today, I got to spend nearly two hours with a specialist I’ve waited three months to see. And she listened. She asked questions. She got it. And best of all, she created a plan of action to try and figure out what’s going on! It’s still going to take some time, maybe a long time, to figure out the best treatment plan. It might even require a trip back to Virginia. But there is finally hope that my quality of life will not be reduced to surviving for four days and then being unable to function on the only days my husband is home. Perhaps my children will only distantly remember the days when Mom was too tired to read them a story or get up and help put them to bed. Maybe, there is hope.
For now, I’ll just have to wait to see if those 10 tubes of my blood hold any answers… 😳