Thursday, 24 March 2016

I have an auto immune disease...

But I can't tell you about it.  I don't want to tell you the specifics - the name or what the diagnosis process was like, and going through those appointments by myself (well, Miss 1 just screamed any time anyone touched me when she had to come along; and dear husband had to take time off work to care for her when I just couldn't handle trying to settle a screaming toddler while absorbing life-altering information). 

But I do.  Because it's huge and it's impacting my life every day and forever.  It's incurable.  It's a disease that can, at best, be managed.  But it's still my body attacking itself.  And it's scary - your body isn't supposed to do that to itself!  And it's uncommon, so who knows how long 'this' has been attacking my body and been missed or dismissed.  But an earlier diagnosis wouldn't have changed anything anyway.  Incurable. 

I don't want to give the specifics because I don't want someone to Google it, and see pictures of what my body looks like, or what I am going through, because even for this over-sharer (hello?  Read any of these blogs!), it's too much, too personal.  But I feel so alone.  I want someone to talk to about this.

So.  I have an autoimmune disease.  And that's all I feel comfortable enough to say.