You don’t have cancer. Those words still ring in my ears. That is what my physician told me. They were meant as words of encouragement in reference to my hysteria at being so sick and having no real answers. It was true, I did not have cancer. I don’t think my doctors at the time realized the scope of my illness. I had been handed a life sentence to something that few around me knew much about or could completely comprehend how devastating it would be to me.
The year was 2001. I had already been sick since August 1999 with recurrent sinus infections that would not respond to antibiotics. I began to become ill shortly after returning to work following being a stay-at-home mom for eighteen years. I was 44 years old when I became ill. My life was never the same after that.