Autonomic dysfunction. Those words probably don’t mean much to you. Three years ago they were gibberish to me. Chances are unless you’re a medical professional or a Dysautonomia patient, you probably haven’t given much thought to your autonomic nervous system.
So let’s lay down the basics. Your autonomic nervous system (ANS) controls your body’s automatic functions; all the little things you don’t even have to consciously think about to keep your body functioning. It regulates things like your heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, digestion, and much more.
Inevitably, when this system fails to work properly you’re going to end up with some serious consequences. Because your ANS controls so many different functions within your body, it can malfunction in many different ways. This is why Dysautonomia is a blanket term for a variety of unique conditions associated with autonomic dysfunction.
What is life like for me with autonomic dysfunction? I’ll try to explain. Read more
Updates, updates, updates! Last we spoke, I’d begun experiencing a symptom flare that resulted in fainting. This meant more testing. The testing confirmed what we have long suspected: my autonomic nervous system is broken.
Thankfully, I was able to make an appointment to see my specialist much sooner than expected. So yesterday, with a page full of scribbled down questions, my mom, husband, and I made our way to UTMC to see Dr. Grubb, a leading specialist in autonomic dysfunction.
What is the full diagnosis?
The basic diagnosis is Dysautonomia [dis-aw-tuh–noh-mee-uh], a disorder of the autonomic nervous system. Since the autonomic nervous system controls so many aspects of your body, it can malfunction in several different ways. This is why Dysautonomia is a “blanket-term” for a number of specific conditions related to autonomic dysfunction. So what is my specific condition? I fall into the spectrum of both POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) and NCS (Neurocardiogenic Syncope). These two often coexist and are treated identically. Read more
“As I sat by his bedside, he slept. Between the cancer spread all throughout his body and the many medications, he slept more often than not. He seemed to wake every four hours or so, usually in need of more meds. It was during these short times that we were able to communicate. He had been disoriented and hazy all week and his speech was failing. We weren’t sure he even recognized us most of the time and he didn’t often reply, but we were taking every opportunity we could to speak to him. And today, whenever he awoke, his eyes were wide open and he put a lot of effort into his words. As if he knew that this was his last day.
He opened his eyes and saw me, sitting by his bed with my red and puffy eyes and he gave me that father look. That look so full of quiet emotion that I can only imagine he gave me the very first time he held me on the day I was born…”
It’s hard to believe it was March when I began writing these words. Harder still to believe that so much time has already passed since that painful February day when my father passed away. I’ve written about the happy. The sweet moments, the engagement, the wedding. But today it’s time to write about one of the most heartbreaking days of my life; and that’s an easy thing to put off. In fact, by now you may have forgotten there was even going to be a 5th part to this series.
We had talked my times before his death about the importance of hope. The importance of knowing that because of the faithful love of Christ, no matter how painful the grief became we did not grieve without hope. And through this shared knowledge, we were each able to see God’s hand so evidently in dad’s last days.
He was surrounded by prayer and love, being read to from God’s Word each day. And to be present in his hospital room was to know just the kind of man that God had brought him to be. A man who pointed others toward the truth so passionately and faithfully, whose careful study of the Word changed so many lives for the better, and whose love for Christ did not waiver to the very end. Read more
These posts are not scheduled because I never know when the words are going to come to write the next one, hence the lengthy break in between this and the last one. This may be a long series and I hope that no one has tired of the continuation, but each of these posts are a step in continuing the grieving and healing process for me. They are as much for my benefit as they are for anyone else’s, and I hope you will continue to humor me.
The two weeks leading up to the wedding are a blur in my memory. I recall dad being admitted to the hospice center after an intense blood sugar spike due to medication effects. Mom feared putting together a wedding and funeral in the same week and I began wondering if my grandfather would be walking me down the aisle. He was there a few days while they got his sugar under control and he and mom got a crash course on insulin injections. Somewhere in the course of all this we rang in the new year and I had my bachelorette party. Read more