Autoimmune: This Is My Story

Breakdown

The medication the doctors from the hospital put me on helped ease the pain, but for a couple of days only. It was like it had given me a short burst of relief, but it wasn't strong enough to last. On the Monday, I approached the religion teacher overseeing the organisation of the mass and I told her of having been in hospital. I told her there was a chance I may be unfit to partake in the service. She tried to assure me that there was no pressure on me to do it. I guess the pressure I was feeling came from myself. I still felt like a let down and she told me she could cancel my reading and get someone to fill in as a Eucharistic Minister if it came to it. I smiled and thanked her. As I walked away, I still felt like I had let everyone down. 

By Tuesday, the symptoms had come back worse than ever. I stood outside my Irish classroom with my friend and as my teacher arrived, I told him I needed to go the bathroom. I spent the entire class period leaning over a bathroom sink, clutching my stomach with one hand, spluttering and retching, while trying to explain to my friend in the spaces in between what was wrong with me. Well, telling her all that I knew at that stage, which wasn't a lot. I think that was one of the most frustrating things about my situation at the time. Having this wide range of symptoms but having no idea what was really causing them to occur. I swallowed down a few large mouthfuls of Gaviscon, hoping it would give me some relief to the heartburn. It didn't work. 

Over that week, the symptoms came and went in sporadic fits and bursts during random periods of each day. I found myself frequently dashing from classes and spending long periods of time in the school bathrooms, in a similar fashion to that Irish class. 

The mass was taking place on the Thursday. By Wednesday, I had told the religion teacher that I definitely didn't think I'd be able to partake in it anymore. She assured me it was fine. I ended up going home early that day too. When I arrived home, I found myself curling up in bed immediately. I cried with the pain and tried to relax. I was just wishing for a letter for a date of my endoscopy test to come. I wanted to know whether or not the consumption of gluten was causing my problems, or even contributing to them. 

When I awoke, my pain had faded somewhat, but my concentration was lacking. I had school work to catch up on, but I didn't have the energy, nor the motivation, to do it. I knew I had to try, but  I just wasn't in the spirit. I didn't have the same inner drive I had in previous years. So, I ignored it. I pushed it to the side and procrastinated, trying to make myself believe it would just go away. Despite this, I still felt incredibly anxious about it, even though I didn't have the motivation to actually do it. It was a contradictory combination of feelings, but somehow, I was feeling them both. I didn't know how it was possible. 

The morning of the mass, I had to leave class. With another friend, I headed down the school corridor. The school principal walked out of the staff room, and I must've looked ill, because I didn't mention it to him, but he stopped me and asked me if I was alright. I had always been one for telling people I was fine, even when I wasn't. But, this was an exception. I told him no and asked if I could sit in the Oasis room - this is a room in our school where students can take refuge when they're feeling like they need to take a pause. He turned to the deputy principal, who had followed him outside, and she eyed me with concern. They both nodded and I took a seat in the Oasis with my friend, once more, retching, a searing pain shooting around the right side of my rib cage. 

On the day of the mass, I didn't have a lift home. My parents were both busy, so I had no choice but to attend. The student body were packed into the seats like sardines. I was squashed between the end of one of the seats and another student and I was just hoping I'd make it through without embarrassing myself. I kept my hand near my face, ready to cover my mouth should I feel the uncontrollable urge to belch and contain the sound of it to my hand. I sat, trying my hardest to ignore the pain while the service was running. 

After the mass had ended and all my classmates were returning to class, I once more sought permission to sit in the Oasis. The prospect of sitting in classes while belching uncontrollably was too humiliating to entertain. I couldn't sit around other people, except possibly my friends, while that was going on. It was even quite embarrassing for me to surround myself with my friends while I was doing that. So, I remained in the Oasis for the rest of that day. I had missed all of my classes that day, and the thought of all the notes I had to catch up on was causing a feeling of dread to stir from within me. That, combined with the pain I found myself in that night, robbed me of my sleep. 

The next day, I made a promise with myself to attend all classes and push through them all, despite my symptoms. The amount of work I had been missing was really catching up with me and I didn't want to add to it. So, I stayed put. Everything was going well until lunch time. A few minutes after I had eaten my lunch, I could feel it coming on again. The pain, the swelling, the acidic taste, the retching and belching. After lunch, I pushed through the next class, holding in all the belching. But, by the time that class had ended, I couldn't hold it any more. It was like holding it in made it worse in the long run for when I finally did let it out. I found myself breaking the promise I had made with myself and sitting out of my double German class. I took a seat in the Oasis. 

I was doubled over in pain in that room. I was alone. I wanted to be alone though, for I didn't want anyone to see me retching like that. I felt disgusting, but I couldn't control it, and I didn't want anyone else to make that judgement of me either. But, at the same time, I wanted someone to understand how I was feeling. I continued to sit in the room, clutching my stomach, willing for the pain to pass. It didn't. The levels of pain I was experiencing began to reflect in the tears that started to stream down my face. I was in pain. I was sleep deprived. I was stressed over my school work and balancing everything else going on in my life. I was down. I felt like no one, despite being somewhat encouraging and supportive, truly understood what I was going through. I was frustrated that I was losing the energy and motivation to stay interested in things I had previously loved. I was even more frustrated that I never seemed to be able to make it through a day at school without dragging myself to do it. I could feel myself spiraling downwards, turning into a different person almost. And I just wanted to be myself again. 

Thankfully, someone arrived. My guidance counselor stepped into the room as I continued to sob and bend forward, clutching my swollen stomach. He probed me and I started to let everything spill out. Everything I was feeling. He escorted me to his office and went about discussing options that could help school life more bearable while I was being investigated by my consultant until I would end up being treated for the unknown illness I was suffering from. 

My guidance counselor informed all my teachers of my predicament and he also put a call through to my mother. I felt angry at myself then, for allowing myself to spill out everything to him. My parents had their own problems to deal with and I didn't want to burden them any more than I already had done. They had busy lives and I didn't want my mother to have to go in to the school for meetings about me, when there was nothing she could really do to ease my illness. But, being the kind, loving, supportive mother that she is, she agreed and told me she wanted to support me in any way she could. 

We had a long talk that afternoon, whereby she made the decision to relieve me of my weekend job. I was thankful, as it would take a huge amount of the pressure off, but I wanted to help their business. It wasn't doing too greatly either, and I wanted to help them sustain it. I did know though, that for my own personal well being, it was a sensible decision to quit working so that I could focus my limited energy on my school life and other areas. Nonetheless, once again, I felt like a complete and utter let down.