Al was sick again, very sick. We had 2 young sons, watching their father wither away, and in distress 24-7, sometimes for weeks on end. Sometimes soaking in the hot water in a bath helped give him temporary relief, but only for short periods of time.
He somehow managed to work in between, and I held my job at the bank, and was promoted a few times. He delivered the mail, and would stop by his parent's home in between, some days sick, some days for lunch. I was afraid for him, he was down to skin and bones, and some days would beg to die.
We went from doctor to doctor, hospital to hospital. He was referred to psychologists and psychiatrists when the medical field could offer no further tests. I was still very young, and even at that young age I was just strong enough to keep going, keep trying, and to keep searching for a " cure".
You would not believe some of the CRAP we were told. Seriously.
1. He was a drug addict, in particular heroin , they said. They were constantly unsure why they never found one single needle mark on his skin. Could it be he was not doing heroin? Hmmm.
2. He has a disease, that you contract in the Mediterranean, or if you are of Mediterranean descent. Never been, and French, and German descent.
3. He is a homosexual trying to be straight, and it is making him ill. I am trying to remember if Al hit that psychiatrist, or if I held him back...
4. My personal favorite: he is ill because I do not give him enough oral sex. " Sorry, dear, you ARE going to die." Next!
They had that man so doped up on prescriptions such as Haldol, that he had to be led around, or he could not move.
One day, he told me he was going to kill himself, so, I called 911, and police officers came to my house, with their guns drawn. I had to assure them there was no weapon at play here, and they took him to the ER for care. Ah.
When I followed up there a few hours later, I was greeted by an ER doctor with a German Accent, who grabbed me hard by my arms, exclaiming " Your husband is a schizophrenic imbecile! Please get your tubes tied immediately, do not have any children with this man, they will all be imbeciles!" I picture my 2 beautiful sons with the perfect grades in school, and tell her, I have sons already. " Don't have any more, they will all be imbeciles!" She stomped off, telling me she is committing him the the " insane hospital", Pilgrim State Hospital, and that he will not be able to leave for a very long time, if ever.
Naturally, I am freaking out just a bit, here. I am not allowed to call or contact him for 24 hours, and vice-verse. The very next day, I get a very agitated Al calling on the phone, with these words," You have to come get me out of here, NOW! I cannot stay here, they are all crazy here! They are in straight jackets and cages, and if you do not come get me, I will find a way to kill myself for sure. I will find a way to throw myself out the window, I cannot stay here! "
I agree. I know he is not crazy, or at least I know my children are not imbeciles. I drive out there and at first they would not allow me to even try to get him released, and I threaten them with a lawsuit. It took me 7 hours, but, I brought him home.
We saw other psyche professionals. One spent an hour a week with him, and I would ask Al, so, what did you talk about? He said, nothing, I said, what do you mean? He replied, we do nothing, I sit in a chair, and he reads a book. I am like???? I need to see this for myself. I invite myself in with Al's permission to the next session.
The " doctor" is sitting behind his desk, with a big book about railroads and pictures of trains. Al is sitting across from him on a chair, and I look back and forth for about 30 mins of silence, and I suddenly blurt out. " What is going on ?" The Dr looks at me and says," I am waiting for him to open up to me." " It has been 3 mos, has he ever opened up to you?" " No." " Do you ever ask him a question?" I ask, incredulously. " No, that would not be beneficial, he has to open up to me." " If he has not opened up in 3 months, trust me, he is NOT ever going to open up, and this BS is over! Whatever the insurance has not covered, will not be opened up by us either!!" I led Al out of there, and slammed the door.
Some more time goes by, of this on and off again " mystery" illness, and we got to a night after he was ill for weeks on end again. I looked at him thrashing around in our bed, wet from the bath, naked and his ribs showing how much weight he has lost, and I knew this could not go on. Enough!
I fell to my knees beside my bed, and I let out a cry to God. " Lord, please, please, he cannot take it any more! He has nothing left, Dear God, but, I am tougher, and stronger, and fatter. He can't take it, but, I can, so, please, take it away from him and give it to me!" I climbed into bed, and huddled against him, crying, and finally we fell asleep.
I woke up about 2 am, and went to use the bathroom, and as I turned on the light, I caught my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I had to do a double take, as I was ' tan", a very deep yellow tan. I got up closer to the mirror, and inspected my face, and noticed as I did, my arms, and basically all of me was " tan". I wondered how could I possibly have " tanned" in the middle of the night. in a dark bedroom, when suddenly I felt violently ill to my stomach. I barely reached the toilet, where I vomited for about 10 minutes, waking Al up in the process. He ran into the bathroom, where I now lay my head on that cool tile floor, like a drunk, asking me " Baby, what's wrong?"
I could not reply yet, as that retching started again, and I was spewing up bile, just the yellow acid of my stomach. He said. " where did you get that tan?", followed by " Baby, we need to get you to the hospital!" Good call.
Off march the 4 of us, to the Emergency Room, where they take one look at me and put me on a stretcher , get the physician in quickly and run the lab tests, followed by the x-rays and CT scans. They determine I have severe jaundice ( my tan), and pancreatitis caused by a blocked tube from the gallbladder. If I do not stay, I will die. I opted to stay.
Remember 2 things I have discussed in other blogs, one I did have a bad gallbladder, since my second pregnancy, but, did not have any issues with that unless I ate the foods that would aggravate it. When Al had something to " do" when he was ill, like take care of the children, or in this case now, me and the children, his " illness" would disappear.
So, I am near death, and he is suddenly fine, and I get admitted to the hospital. Al has to take care of our sons, and work, and he is fine. I get a tube inserted down my throat into my stomach, attached to a vacuum tube to drain out the bile and poison in me, an iv with fluids, nothing to eat, for 10 days, and Al is fine. Once they have resolved the pancreatitis, they now need to remove my gallbladder, a procedure back then that required full cut surgery, a hunt for the stones that blocked the ducts, and recuperate for a few more days in the hospital, and Al is fine. Fine!
I do my post op followup with a physician I am referred to by my surgeon, named Dr Schneider.. and I go to my follow up, I am still on leave of absence from work, and he asks me how I got so sick so suddenly. I tell him my story. He asks me to send Al in to see him. I did.
He asks Al a few questions, and suggests to him he believes he know why Al has been sick all these years, and apparently it started even when Al was a boy. He gave Al a prescription of a medicine called Imipramine, and told him to take one pill before bed time, and to let him know how it goes.
IT went well, very well. After a week or so on this med, we went for a follow up appointment, and the Dr told us, he believed that Al has a hormone imbalance, particularly epinephrine, which we all know as the " fight or flight" hormone, produced in higher amounts when something frightens us or makes us mad enough. It speeds up your heart and your breathing. This medication, helps to retard the production, or uptake of this hormone, which the physician explained, when Al comes upon change, flows into his stomach, making him sick. However, if he had something to USE it on, he was OK.
OK, so, bottom line.. Al was never sick from the "mystery disease" EVER again. He took this medication for a few months, and then he stopped it. He felt that now that he KNEW what the issue was, he did not need a drug to fix it, and he was right, apparently. We spent our first 7 years together living with this horrible situation, and he was labeled as everything from a Heroin addict, to a Schizophrenic, and all along it was his body's hormonal response to stress. He was in his mid twenties when we found this Dr, and he is in his mid sixties now, and he never had a recurrence of this illness, and believe me, he had some situations come up during those years, that would have caused upheaval before this solution.
Since this time, my 2 sons grew up to be awesome, and successful family men, and the twin daughters I gave birth to subsequently are beautiful and smart, and have children of their own, so there, Herr Doctor!
These words are the the exact way this came about. I completely believe, with all of my heart and soul, that this was another miracle for my family. I firmly believe, that God took it away from Al and gave it to me. I know that Dr Schneider was put in our lives at that exact moment due to God's hand.
I also know of one more thing. Be very careful on how you ask for your miracles. God gave me what I asked for that day, as I knelt on that floor by my bed. He took it from Al, and gave it to me, and I nearly died. I will be wording my requests a bit more carefully, forever more.