I recently announced my scleroderma may be in remission. According to Merriam Webster, remission (is) a period of time during a serious illness when the patient’s health improves.
Remission was my word, not my doctor’s. I have also heard from other patients who will not use remission as well. The general consensus is, although the definition of remission does fit, and it doesn’t say permanent or temporary, remission is accepted as ceasing of the symptoms. It fits when referring to cancer. The cancer is somehow eradicated by treatment, and while in remission, patients do not experience symptoms of cancer. The difference with scleroderma is, that scleroderma may run it’s course, or symptoms may be controlled by medication, but blood work, and symptoms show scleroderma is present. The best term I have heard so far in reference to this is referred to as a “holding pattern” by patients and their doctors.
For me to say that I may be in remission is incorrect. Symptoms will flare. I will still have good and bad days. When I spoke with my doctor I was elated that I may have lived long enough to be through the worst of scleroderma, I threw around the word remission, carelessly. I apologize to you, who are kind enough to read my work regularly, and new patients looking for information. I was talking about scleroderma incorrectly, and I am s very sorry. Of course, I still have sarcoidosis, but it’s symptoms are very mild for me. I write more about scleroderma, because it’s just more aggressive in me than sarcoidosis.
I was very swept up in the possibility. One of my best and worst coping mechanisms, is denial. Like all patients with a chronic illness, I do not want to be sick, labeled as sick or live my life as if scleroderma defines me. It works well for me, until I get swept up, as I did with the word, “remission”.
The last few weeks, I have been working through depression. It is something that affects me more than scleroderma, in body and mind. Scleroderma is a life-long commitment no one volunteers for, but we can choose how we cope with it. A friend of mind gave me a name for my technique, he told me I am like Lt. Dan, from Forrest Gump. I liked that comparison because it felt like it rang true. Like Lt. Dan, I am angry about what life has handed me. I never ever want to be referred to as handicapped or disabled, and don’t get me started with God. I of course will not climb up on a shrimp boat mast and curse God during a hurricane, but I am certainly not going to worship God or pray. (That’s a whole other post.) For me, accepting scleroderma will always be a part of my life is a sore spot, but I do it. That may be why I have a great deal of patience with everything else. Traffic or long lines seem like minor things, and a waste of time to get angry about, because eventually a long line will move.
Scleroderma has taught me to live in the now. I am not in remission. I may be in a holding pattern, but I will need infusions and medication for the rest of my life- and it will not be cut short. That may seem unrealistic, but to me that is one thing that is not. Scleroderma, childbirth and a severe head injury have thrown a lot at me these past 43 years. I have a lot of life left, and there is treatment for my symptoms. I will continue to work hard to stay healthy, which we all need to do, scleroderma or not. I have not yet reached mid-life. I have a ten year old son, and I plan to see him walk on Mars, and meet his children. Life is full of obstacles. I choose to make obstacles, part of the adventure.