I’ve been waiting to write about my mysterious illness until I had a definitive conclusion to the story, but the stupid lab results are taking FORFUCKINGEVER. So here’s Part II:
Friday night the rash got all super leprosy-ish
and the joint pain and swelling got worse. I became convinced I was totally being murdered by red dots and hurty joints. Saturday I woke up and my elbow hurt too much to put my own hair in a ponytail. I had to have Jason do it and when he was finished I declared, That’s enough! One person should not have to cope with this much misery! Disgusting legs AND super terrible husband ponytail hair? It’s just too much burden for a single human to bear!
Luckily, I was able to get an appointment with my mother’s doctor and the lab results from the blood they took at Urgent Care Thursday came back in time to bring them along. That doctor took a look at my rash and was all, Yeesh. You’re gross. But then he told me all of my blood work came back normal! I didn’t have wacky white blood cells, or an elevated SED rate. My liver function was normal (who would have guessed that?! It’s clearly because I exercise it a really lot. I have a super strong liver). I wasn’t showing a positive result for Rheumatoid Arthritis or anything like that.
After 834 questions about the rash and pain, the doctor decided I have… (insert half-hearted drumroll)… Parvo! That’s right, obviously the problem is I’ve been a Pomeranian this whole time and I just never realized it. He said it’s a virus people totally don’t get from making out with dogs (I mean…not that I was worried that’s how I got it) and in adults it can have rash and joint pain as symptoms. There aren’t anti-virals for it, it just runs its course.
He put me on a round of steroids to get rid of the rash and the joint pain and took more blood to test for the Parvo and a few other things just to make sure. He said I’d be feeling much better soon and I could go back to my normal workouts whenever I was.
By 24 hours into the steroids my knees were pain-free and I could totally do my own hair again (WHEW). The rash was no longer doubling in size daily and parts were definitely fading. On Monday I felt good enough to attempt circus class, which went well. I felt strong and capable and nothing hurt that shouldn’t. It was clear if I could just keep taking the steroids forever I could totally join Cirque in no time! And then I punched something for no reason and the poignant background music of a Very Special Episode from 1985 started playing.
Of course, when I got home and got ready for bed, the soundtrack played The Price Is Right’s Whomp, whaaaa…, because I had a brand new hideous deformity around the back of my thigh:
So back to the doctor I went on Tuesday. This time I saw a different lady who also kind of thought I was a gnarly looking freak, but she thought my circus class workout sounded super awesome, so I totally gave her the details. She said she thought maybe the bondagey looking mark on the back of my thigh was a result of the silks (we had learned this trick, Monday night) and my skin reacting to a combination of whatever virus I had (she seemed less convinced it was Parvo) and the steroid. She wasn’t super sure, though and kind of made that, ‘I’m real sorry you’re a freak’ face.
Now it’s Thursday and they still don’t have the stupid blood work back. It’s apparently a long test. My rash looks way better and the ligature mark (I’ve been binge-watching True Detective) on my leg is starting to fade. I do, however, have a handful of new red dots. Although it’s really hard to tell what it old, what is new, what is a freckle and what is red wine I just accidentally dripped on myself.
I’ve been vacillating wildly back and forth between I’m all better, Mom! Stop bossing me about how I work out too much and I’m tiring my body out! and The rash is clearly coming back and pretty soon will start eating my face so I should just eat a Magnum bar for lunch and feel sorry for myself. I’m pretty sure the solution is to use a Sharpie to circle all of my current red dots so I know for sure if I get any new ones.
OR, the effing doctor could just call me back and tell me it’s Parvo for sure and I could stop worrying that I have a mystery illness that’s really an alien life form inhabiting my body so it can learn the secrets of our culture and eventually use my brain as nourishment.