Undiagnosed
For about two years of my life, I was bedridden for nearly 80% of the time. I was in pain in every inch of my body. Any physical activity I did overwhelmed and fatigued my muscles to the point that I had to remain on the couch or in bed for weeks afterwards. This affected my performing career as I exchanged one paycheck/performance for two weeks of bedrest due to agony. At first I happily made the deal, and chose the money over my health. However, as time went on, I could not even climb the stairs without feeling as though I had just climbed Everest. I could no longer play with my daughter, go grocery shopping, push a stroller, do household cleaning, or walk up and down the stairs. I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed until about 4-5 hours after my daughter did. Which means that at 2-3 years old, my little girl was left on her own from 5:30 in the morning to about 10:30, when my body allowed me to stumble out of bed and abrasively ask my beautiful daughter what she wanted to eat. Her diaper was left unchanged frequently, and I remember a few instances where I spanked her because she was doing “naughty” things to garner attention from her “vegetable” of a mother. Television was her only friend and babysitter. No one came to visit. We hardly saw any family. It was just us… My husband did his best to care for her when he came home. However, between his demanding job and inconsistent hours, it made it difficult for him to come home from work to do all of the housework, cleaning, cooking, bills, yardwork, and take sole responsibility for caring for our little daughter and my health needs.
It was horrible. For all of us. Hell. It was hell. My daughter must have felt so unloved. The only thing I managed to do was cuddle with her while she watched massive amounts of television. I continued to nurse her, which I am sure facilitated with our continued bonding. But the happy, singing, Mary Poppins-like mother I was prior to the Hell, was long gone. There were glimpses of the Good Mother, but she was slowly dying.
The Symptoms
My husband hadn’t a clue as to why his wife had suddenly fallen ill. The doctors swore it was Fibromyalgia…Despite the fact that I began to have severe chills where I had to start sleeping on a heating pad because I couldn’t get warm enough. The cold permeated to my bones, and my teeth literally chattered. My birthday gift that year was an electric blanket. I couldn’t sleep without it. Along with the chills came night sweats…soaking night sweats. I would not only have to change my clothes several times a night, but also my sheets and blankets- it was horrible. I had sharp shooting pains throughout my body. Random, strange pains that were so painful, sometimes I would shout in pain. I had high fevers. So high, in fact, that during my pregnancy I would stay up all night showering in cold water and drinking gallons of water in an effort to decrease my body temperature so that I wouldn’t “cook” my little baby. It was torturous and left me sleepless and exhausted all of the time. The fatigue was so unbelievably overwhelming that it felt as though I was on a sleeping pill every day. At night, I could hardly sleep due to my teeth chattering, and every muscle tensing and cramping with the cold to the point of excruciating pain. I was depressed with my new life. I could accomplish nothing that I needed to, and felt worthless and useless. I was the bane of my husband and child’s existence, when I had only ever aspired to be their light.
The Promise
Aside from physical pain over the last three years, I have experienced deep emotional pain as well; for many different reasons. One of the reasons stems from a promise that I made to my little girl. After lying in a bed nearly all of the time for my daughters third year of life, I went to a doctor who treated me with homeopathy. I started to feel better and became pregnant almost right away. As soon as I was pregnant, I immediately became weak and was sick with one virus or another weekly. I experienced the night sweats, fevers and chills again but was told that this must have been mono. I was told by my doctors that all of my odd symptoms, and strange blood results were probably due to the pregnancy. I assumed that when the pregnancy was over, I would begin to heal and be able to have fun with my daughter again, and was told such by doctors. I promised my little girl that Mommy would get better. Had I known that I had cancer and would have to start chemotherapy right after I had her baby brother, I would have never made that promise. Knowing that not only was I not able to be there for my little girl, but that she had to share what little time I did have with her brother, made everything much worse. It was horrible to see my little girl continuing to suffer. She had suffered without her mother, the love and affection she needed, or people around her to support her growth and development for 2 years, and not it was about to continue…and get worse.
Chemotherapy
At 32 years old, with 2 children, I suffered through 8 treatments of ABVD chemotherapy. I had one agonizing treatment every 2 weeks for four months. Chemotherapy was horrific for me. Painful, traumatizing and horrific. The smell of the initial saline push was unforgettable and nauseating. The pain of the thick needle entering the flesh in front of the port on my chest felt like a samurai sword for almost the entirety of my treatments because the site of my port was so sensitive. After every injection, I would be left in pain for about 45 minutes. The nurses on staff for the most part showed me a complete lack of empathy or compassion as they stuck me with the “sword” and pushed the toxic chemicals into my bloodstream. If anything, they showed irritation and disgust at my tears.
I tried to explain to them the reason for my tears, but they didn’t seem to get it. Not only was it painful, but I knew that what they were giving me was toxic, and carcinogenic in and of itself. I was completely against chemotherapy, and would have preferred not to do it. However, in my case, as far as I can tell, the chemotherapy actually saved my life.
The other reason I cried was because I knew that the chemotherapy would leave me in complete agony and bedridden for 2 weeks…right until my next dose. In the beginning I would get about 2 days of reprieve prior to my next treatment. For those 2 days, I was actually able to play with my daughter and even go to church sometimes. But as the course of my treatments progressed, that reprieve turned from 2 days to none.
If I had been alone with my husband, and able to rest the entirety of my 4 months of Chemotherapy, I most likely would not have felt so desperate. The pain, although physically very real was intensified by the emotional pain I felt. You see, I had just given birth to my son. He was only about a month old when we discovered that the cause of me being bedridden nearly 80% of the time for the two years that preceded his birth was due to the fact that I had Stage IIB Hodgkin Lymphoma. Being that breastfeeding prevents Hodgkin Lymphoma, and my son was 1 month premature, I held off chemotherapy for 3 months. During that summer that I chose my infant son over my own health, I truly felt as though I were dying. I had large cancerous lymph nodes pushing up against my intestines, and up and along my spine to just under my heart. I was in agony that summer, and when I really felt as though I would die, I called the on-call oncologist on a Saturday, and requested that I start chemotherapy.
I hardly saw my son. During chemotherapy I was unable to care for my son…let alone hold him. I would spend my days writhing in pain from head to toe in the bed. Crying, and desperately trying to take my mind off of my pain by watching massive amounts of television. I couldn’t play with my little girl, who was four years old and very sensitive. I couldn’t bond or nurse my newborn son, and I couldn’t be a wife to my overworked husband. I felt as though I were in hell. I knew that Jesus was with me and would see me through, but through the immense suffering, the darkness was all that I could feel. The light of God was there, but I was unable to bask in its warmth.
Jennifer Grace Martinez 