I had been at Hillcrest Commons (Or as I liked to refer to it, Hell-Crest Commons) for 3 months. Jillian, the nurse practitioner overseeing my care, decided that we needed to have a meeting with all of my care team and my parents.
The meeting was an absolute disaster.
Every time I tried to talk to Jillian she insisted that my disease wasn’t as bad as I said it was and that she could get me off of most of my meds, off of the IV fluids, get my port removed, get me eating again, get my GJ tube removed, and get me walking with no assistive devices. She had shared this viewpoint with my parents and got them so full of hope that they were willing to do just about anything with me or to me in order to get me there.
After having been at Hillcrest Commons Nursing home for three months and having a meeting about my progress I was feeling devastated. I had just found out that my parents were kicking me out of the house because I too was sick and that unless I found a way to get rid of my GJ feeding tube my port-a-cath, my oxygen (that I used overnight and occasionally during the day), to stop using catheters, and got out of my wheelchair than I would not be allowed home. According to the top specialist in the world on my condition, I was just going to continue getting sicker and I would never be able to eat by mouth again, would continue to lose mobility, would never be able to urinate on my own again, and would need oxygen more and more as my disease progressed. This meant I would never be allowed … Find Out What Happens Next
A meltdown in my room of Hell-Crest Commons, the nursing home I’d been living in for three months, had prompted that awful nurse practitioner, to send me to the hospital to get evaluated by psych crisis. Jillian was my primary care provider at the nursing home.
Who wouldn’t have had a meltdown after that meeting though? At the meeting they told me that I was faking all of my illness because I liked being sick and that she was going to stop my IV fluids. My IV fluids were keeping me alive. They were one of my main treatments, but that wasn’t even the worst part of the meeting.
At the meeting they had dropped the bomb on me that I was never allowed to go back to living at home.
After the meeting I went back to my room where I couldn’t stop crying. Tanya the social worker, and … Find Out What Happens Next
Tuesday morning, I woke up early. Usually, I tried to sleep as late as possible because there wasn’t much to do in Hell-Crest Commons, the nursing home that I’d been living in for months now. The only times I’d get up early was if they for some reason scheduled PT or OT early. This time I had an appointment that afternoon with the Nerve Injury Clinic. The Nerve Injury Clinic was at Mass General Hospital in Boston. They were the ones that had done my skin punch biopsy while I’d been at Mass General for 5 months in 2014. Dr. Hurrowitz who was my primary neurologist there was the one following me. He had been the one that had originally come into my room at Mass General to tell me that he knew what was wrong with me and had proceeded to explain my new diagnosis to me.
Feeding through a J port is supposed to help people with gastroparesis get much-needed nutrition that they can’t get by eating orally or by getting fed through a G tube. A person with gastroparesis has a paralyzed stomach so a J tube which goes straight into the Jejunum skips over that paralyzed stomach and goes right into the middle of the small intestine is a way to give the person.
Now that I had the tube feeds and the IV fluids, I was feeling a lot better physically most of the time as I wasn’t actively starving to death, but I would still have breakthrough periods where the pain would get intense, or I’d get nauseous and start vomiting huge volumes of bile and/or tube feed. The tube feed was going into my intestines through my J tube, which was supposed to prevent me from vomiting it up. Still, it … Find Out What Happens Next
My safety net was what my whole life manageable. My life was pretty much one big medical issue. Luckily I had two parents and two brothers to support me. My safety net was made up of two people, my mom, and my dad.
They didn’t always make the best decisions for me, in fact, sometimes their decisions messed things up for me really badly, but they loved me 100% unconditionally and always tried their hardest to make the best decisions for me.
It all started when I was eight and began dealing with muscle fatigue, then when I was ten I first got diagnosed with gastroparesis (a paralyzed stomach) and had to have emergency surgery to have 2.5 inches of dead bowel removed and then had to have an NJ tube placed. Â
If you wanted to look up the word sick in the dictionary, you would probably find a picture of me. Ever since I was eight years old and started struggling with muscle fatigue and appetite loss I have been on a downward trend in my health. By the time I was ten I had had my first NG tube. This was followed by my first surgery when the NG tube caused a bowel obstruction. Then I had to deal with an even thicker NG tube to suction. This was followed by my first NJ tube.
I spent a good chunk of fifth grade in the hospital, and went home from the hospital with the NJ tube still in place and a diagnosis of severe gastroparesis. The rest of my childhood was spent racking up frequent flier miles at my local children’s hospital. At age thirteen my heart rhythm disturbances took … Find Out What Happens Next
As a toddler, I spoke before I walked, but I walked right on time too. I hit all my milestones early. My mom had a Master’s degree in early childhood education. She consulted at multiple daycare centers and nursery schools. Some days she would bring me with her to work to show me off. I would ace all of the baby developmental screenings. The other teachers and educators would watch in awe. Back then there was no talk about me having an eating disorder.
In third grade, I began my descent into chronic illness. My skin, hair, and mouth became extremely dry. I started getting frequent pounding headaches.
From kindergarten to the first part of fifth grade, I attended a private Jewish day school, where every day began with a morning prayer service. The Orthodox Jewish Prayer service consists of multiple parts where you remain standing for prolonged periods of … Find Out What Happens Next
My very first symptoms started when I was eight and couldn’t stay standing up through the whole prayer service at my Orthodox Jewish Day School every morning. Also that year, I started having trouble with holding down food and drink. Between ages eight and ten the issues just intensified and turned into a monster that threatened to tear my whole family apart, including the lives of my two little brothers, Michael and Jonathan (names altered for privacy issues) who were having their own issues that got shoved to the back burners because my issues were life-threatening and there’s were just life-altering. My GI issues were so intense by the time I passed out in an elevator at age ten that I hadn’t even been able to hold down any food or drinks at all. Not even sips of Gatorade.
