Chronic Mind Fuck

Having a chronic illness means many things but I find that it means my family relations, particularly those involving my marriage, are a constant, chronic, mind fuck.

I don’t know what it would be like to  live without this constant, slamming stress on my family and marriage.

I realize there are stressors and sadness and dysfunctions in everyone’s lives and relationships but this is the one in my family: me and my chronic illness.

My husband, who is a good guy, even mentioned in therapy, that our family dysfunction is basically me.

That cut me like a knife.  I think he meant it was the illness, not me in particular.  Anyway, that is how I choose to understand it.

This morning is a great example of Chronic Mind Fuck, which shall hereafter be referred to by the acronym, CMF.

Our son has mono and has been sick for over two months.  Every time we think he is getting over it something else pops up.  It has been overwhelming to deal with this on top of my stuff but we are doing our best.

Our son’s school is sending a teacher out several days a week for home bound instruction and last week the teacher (who is a coach) decided our son should go for a bike ride with him to ‘get back in shape.’  Well, this caused a relapse.  The last few days have been awful.  He has had joint pain, fever and now is covered in a mystery rash.

Last night I put in a call to the pediatric nurse but was too tired to stay up and wait for the call back.  I asked my husband to wait for the call.  He did and spoke with both the nurse and through the nurse, one of the pediatricians.

The decision was made that it was not an emergency situation but that he would need to be seen in after hours clinic today, which is Sunday.

Not knowing all of this, I worried all night about it.  My mind, which is damaged by my own situation, goes to the worst case scenarios.  I try to tamp it down and shut it up but it is pretty loud at times:

“He has meningitis now.”  “You are a bad mom.”  “Blah, blah, Blah” “Your son’s immune system is screwed up like yours…”

I woke up early and did research online: bad idea.

Finally my husband woke and we talked over the situation.  I made an appointment for my son for this morning’s clinic and we decided he would take our son in to the doctor while I cleaned house: fun stuff.

Somehow this degenerated into a ‘tit for tat’ argument about me second guessing his ability to handle a pediatric visit.  I understand this.  I was asking  a lot of questions and prompting our fourteen year old son to remind the doctor of all of his symptoms. Basically, I was coaching everyone in what to say.

My husband took this as a sign that I do not trust him to take care of things medical with any proficiency.

This is a deep seated and difficult issue between us.  It is complex.  I don’t think he is incapable but I also don’t think he asks the questions the same way I do.  After all, he is not a chronic patient.

So, unpleasantness ensued.

CMF ensued.

Me wanting to disappear down the toilet drain ensued.

I felt all the energy I have leaving my body through my feet.

I don’t know what this feels like for my husband.  From the look on his face at times it looks like he wants to strangle me.  I don’t really blame him.

But he is a really sweet and loving guy and would not strangle me.  He just hates that I am sick.  He is my polar opposite in all things and thankfully, is strong and healthy and doesn’t think along pathways that lead to strangulation.

It is just that we both suffer from CMF.

I wonder sometimes if CMF is curable.

I don’t know.

I guess the only cure for now is to let it go for today and hope to move on.

Here is my chant for the day:

“F-off!  F-off “I say, “CMF go away!

Come again another day…. or not.”