Twenty-eight years ago, in 1989, my husband and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. We had a nine-year-old son and six-year-old daughter, and my business was four years old. Oh yes, and I got sick. Really, really sick.
For those who don’t remember, the stock market crashed in 1989, and my business was on the brink of bankruptcy. Then, that summer, I had to have a D&C. The biopsy came back pre-cancerous, and I was forced into a hysterectomy I didn’t want. We were done having children, two were more than enough, but I wasn’t ready emotionally to give up that part of my “womanness.” I was in a car accident, too. I was under an enormous amount of stress.
As the years passed, I got more and more sick. I struggled to take care of our children and keep my business afloat. The pain I lived with every day threatened to send me to bed permanently. I was so tired I often could not make it through the day without a nap. I saw doctor after doctor. From family medicine to gastroenterologists, rheumatologists to endocrinologists, I saw them all. No one could tell me what was wrong.
Finally, in 1996, I was referred to a new rheumatologist. I had found a website for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and my symptoms fit a lot, but not all, of what I read. I had a little hope for a diagnosis. This doctor was kind and had a sense…
