Old Wounds…

Hey everyone…I have been busy with lots of things this week.  First of all, we had this impending snow storm.  So I went to the store, and then forgot something so I went again.  I probably go to the store more than most people to find the things on my Paleo menu.  But that’s okay, its “hunt and gather”.    After I got back, I was coming in the house with bags of groceries and my cell was ringing.  The school nurse called to tell me my daughter spilled soup on her hand.  Guess what she got?  A burned hand.  That’s right.  How’s that for irony?  I didn’t really appreciate it.

I was not told to pick her up.  I was told it was a small blister.  By the time she got home, it was not so small and her hand was bothering her.  Unfortunately, everyone, and I do mean everyone, had been sent home early for this “winter warning” we were under.  The school handled it as they thought they should, but I told the principal I expect more from the cafeteria.  One of the ladies on the “line” had seen it happen, asked my child if she was okay, and moved on with her day.

If you remember, I was a teacher and I understand how hectic the lunch line is; however, what I do not understand is why they would serve soup so hot my child has second degree/partial thickness burns.  This brought back memories of my burn as a child on my hand, which was my entire palm, but also of the blisters during my early Porphyria days.  Those days are locked deep down and I usually keep a lid on them.

More on my old life and how I changed here >>> The Steps I took to Change my Life <<<

I spent countless nights with raw flesh on my hands trying to heal from the blisters that popped.  I thought my hands would be scarred and so did everyone else.  I rarely talk about that time, but if you want to read more you can check here.  So I brought out all my old resources.  The white cotton gloves, the creams and ointments, and the hope that this would heal.  I am so very tired of old wounds splitting open.

So her wound is healing, and she is wearing the white glove everyday.  We tried to find some humor the other night by telling her about one of our favorite performers, Michael Jackson.  That did lighten the mood as we showed her a video and tried to get her to do the moonwalk.  It was pretty funny.  There is a lesson to be learned here, but I really wish someone else could carry that burden.



The year was 1998…

Urine.  What a fun topic. 

Well, as I said in the beginning, it has to happen to someone, and as it so happens, it already has.  So, here I am trying to get over my first health scare of a new year, only to find something else wrong.  I go back to my gynecologist as I figured something was dreadfully wrong with my prior condition.  Maybe I just have a urinary tract infection (UTI).  It was the first time I can honestly say that I hoped that was the problem.  On this occasion, all the tests came back normal.

If I had been someone fictional like Dr. House, perhaps I could have sorted out my symptoms right away and made a great big flow chart of some sort or bounced a ball to find the right answer.  I would have realized that when I was working, I got cut easily and started bleeding all over without realizing I had even hurt my hand. I might have noticed I had thin skin when some of it came off in a horrible way (painful).  Additionally, I would have realized how extremely exhausted I had become, and perhaps planning a wedding during all of this, should not have made me so tired.  However, I was working for the first time after college so I wanted to make a good impression, and I let things go.  I was puzzled by these oddities, but since I was still dealing with the cervical issues, I failed to notice how strange things were.

All that changed when the blisters came.  The painful bubbles started appearing on my hands and some grew to be the size of a dime.  You might think this is an exaggeration, sadly, it is not.  The welts would pop open and leave painful scars for weeks and the skin would be tight and itchy where the blisters had been.  Did I mention I was getting married?  Think wedding portraits.  Ha.  Anyway, I go to my primary care physician at the time, and she looks me up and down.  She says she has no idea what is happening to me, but she knows of someone who can help.  A dermatologist.  Somehow, I get penciled in.  At this point, my hands are hurting me so badly at night I get little to no sleep.  The skin itches constantly and I am in pain.  My life is falling apart and I am only 23 years old at the time.

I sit on the crinkly paper and wait for a doctor who I hope will have answers.  Telling a story I had told twice, and hoping that this third time was a charm.  As she looks at my face, arms, and hands, she gets a worried look on her face and asks if her colleague can come take a look.  Sure, the more the merrier.  He comes in and mentions he is also her husband.  They haven’t seen a case like this…well, maybe ever.  The good news is that they happen to write a paper on it in medical school.  They whisper in undertones and I hear all kinds of strange-sounding words.  Latin I think to myself.  Great.  Just great.  This can’t be good news.  They seem to notice I am still in the room.  Since I ask a lot of questions, I get right to the point.  Please tell me what I have.  They seem calm when they tell me that I might have porphyria cutanea tarda, but don’t look it up.  Famous last words.  Don’t look it up.  They didn’t know who they were dealing with here.  Never tell me what I should not do.  Highly ineffective strategy.

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes