Anemia

This morning I decided to bake apples for my kiddos for lunch. It took me an hour to core the apples and stuff them. Now my arms are achy and sore. My legs feel like rubber and I feel like I could fall to sleep at a moments notice. It's 10:46 AM.

I am remembering years ago when I was first pregnant with my oldest daughter. The nurse at the doctors office did a simple blood test and explained it was for anemia. The test was normal and I forgot about it until the next time they tested when I was pregnant with my second child. My first brush with anemia happened when I lost my baby Nathaniel to stillbirth. I nearly bled to death during his delivery and suffered from anemia in the weeks following, Looking back I cannot separate the many symptoms I was feeling and decide which were from grief and which were from anemia. I do remember the headaches. I remember laying my head on the table at work, in so much pain that it hurt when someone walked by.

My next experience with anemia was after my first c-section several years later. Again, I have a hard time separating the symptoms of anemia and the postpartum depression I had. I was anemic after my next two c-sections. None, and I mean NONE of those experiences come close to the anemia I have experienced over the last year. The closest I can get to describing it is how you feel after a long hard hike, or run. Your muscles feel fatigued and every nerve seems to be jumping. Only I feel like that every minute of the day. Walking across my house or putting a load of laundry in make me gasp for breath. A long walk across a parking lot has me shaking and dizzy before I get to the store. My heart feels like it will pound out of my chest and my head feels like a river is rushing through it. Then there is the constant nausea that never seems to go away. The iron supplements make it worse. At the absolute worst I can not even move my arms. I need help to shower or use the bathroom. Just before the last transfusion, I could not wake myself up enough to help my three year old. (Thankfully there were other people in the house that could do it. )

My point I guess is that so few people really know what is going on with me. I mean, they know anemia. They just assume that I am a little tired and worn down. I don't ask for help because I worry that people will think I am expecting too much. Sometimes I feel invisible. Not because I want people to help me, but because I want to be helping. I want to be useful. I don't want pity. I want purpose. I wonder how many people are suffering with chronic conditions who feel very much the same way. I am hopeful that once this surgery finally happens, I can get back to being a productive member of society. My heart aches for those who have little hope of recovery.