Fungi Are Not Fun: A Mold Illness Blog Post by Amy Adams

So this sucks. Here I lay (or lie…I have no idea without checking with "Grammar Girl" first) wondering for the fifth time this week whether or not I should go to the ER. The after hours nurse said I should go. No, let me correct that…she very adamantly stated, "I highly recommend that you go. My triage work-up says that you should have someone drive you there immediately. Do you need me to call 911? If you don't go, your symptoms could cause you serious health problems." I know that's what they have to say when you call and tell them that you are experiencing shortness of breath to the point of spending most of the last few weeks in bed, severe 24/7 discomfort in your left lung, coming close to passing out every time you cough, sneeze or laugh, clearing your throat non-stop, tingly sensations in your fingers when you try to take a deep breath, inflammation in your chest and face that feels like The Good Year Blimp, a dry cough for three months, dizziness, confusion, disorientation, loss of appetite, extreme fatigue, a dry, stuffed nose, waking up not breathing, feeling like your brain has been hijacked, oh and did I mention trouble breathing?…but…ya think?! Might these symptoms cause me some serious health problems? Well that's good to know because I hadn't realized that until you said it. Actually, she was really nice and simply doing her job properly but let me just say that this shit gets old.

I think I've decided to "tough it out," you know to not go to the ER and just cross my fingers yet again that I'll get to send my kids a "Goodmorning Sunshine" bitmoji in the A.M. We'll see how it goes. I hate to waste precious resources on my fourth trip to the ER in three months. My last ER doc point blank said to me, "We just don't know enough about mold. We don't test for it. It's too expensive, and the insurance companies don't cover it." Welcome to my world. I have learned this the hard way, visit after visit with dismissive, arrogant, sexist doctors whom I guarantee would bawl their eyes out one day with this, let alone months, weeks, even years. Thank goodness I have finally found a doctor who is knowledgeable about this devastating illness. They do exist but the fact is that this is still a long road.

A friend commented to me tonight,

"Amy, take this suffering and make it help others. As you know, that is why we suffer! To take it and help others!!"

While I fully appreciate where she's coming from and agree to an extent, every ounce of my insides was screaming, "Are you kidding me right now?! Too soon, my Friend." I get to say that about my situation but before I hear it from anyone else, I'm gonna need a minute to move through my own suffering. Further, by sharing my story, I AM helping others. At least I hope so.

And anyway, that's the intention of this blog…well, one of several intentions, I guess. Another is to help myself heal. Writing is and always has been a healing salve in my life. Almost every night with this, I think, "I should start a blog" but because there are some legal pieces to it (very common) I have refrained. Tonight though, I saw another young woman's vlog about her painful experience, and it compelled me to share mine.

This is gonna be real, raw and uncensored as much as possible. My life is at stake. So if you're looking for false inspiration, that is, the kind of inspiration that comes from burying our heads in the sand and/or looking away from human suffering, you're not gonna find it here. Shit's gotta come to Light, and, just like the inspector who shines her/his light into all the dark places to find the source of the problem, I'm gonna do that here, for all the world to see. You'll get inspiration, too, I hope…but it'll be the kind that comes from someone who has walked through the fires of hell and doesn't pretend that it didn't burn. In my humble opinion, it is only in this way that our Souls can truly be set aflame.

I never thought I'd be writing about mold…but here I am again saying, "Okay, Life, what do we 'got'?"

Oh, and the pic is the first truckload of stuff that went to the dump. That's part of this, too, and anyone who says it isn't has never felt like death paid a sudden and unexpected visit via a shirt or a laptop or a book. It sounds like science fiction but I promise you it's as real as it gets. Anyway, it's just stuff…but I'll be writing all about it in the next blog. (Speaking of the pic, that's my first Easter Basket: THIS is the beginning of my second Resurrection.)


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