I'm Fanspastic

Saturday morning, Stephen and I spent a few hours cleaning and decorating our apartment. We are still in the process of moving in. I wonder if we will ever be 100% moved in while living in Union Square. Our bedroom is still full of boxes, and my closest has been a disaster since I dumped all my shoes on the floor before we were married. But we're getting there. Our living room and kitchen are almost 100% done. We just have to actually clear the counter and table instead of moving and sorting piles over and over. But it is so much fun for me to clean alongside Stephen. It's in those moments where I'm standing back, telling him to tilt the mirror half an inch to the right so it will be level that I feel the most like I'm married. It's in the the simple act of him sliding the table so I can decorate the wall behind it that I feel like we are husband and wife. As I go start the laundry while he is vacuuming the living room, I feel overwhelmed with love for Stephen. He is my best friend and my coworker. He is my counselor and my confidant. He's my support and my drive. I tell him often that I'm so glad I married him and not someone else, because the little perks of his personality complement mine so well.

As we were cleaning, I was rambling off about something unimportant from the bathroom while he was in the kitchen. I then paused and poked my head around the corner and said "scripture case" to which he replied "that's what it was!" and I couldn't stop laughing. To set up the back story, Stephen is keeping a list of presents he could get me for my birthday and Christmas. As we think of things that would be nice to have, he'll write them down. We were in the BYU bookstore on Wednesday, wandering around and killing time. I told him I wanted a new scripture case. (Mine I've had since I was in Young Women's and it has been with me through EFY and Girls camp and other adventures, but it is wearing out. There's also a permanent stain from a green crayon. Basically, it would be a reasonable time to update my case.) We weren't home for him to write it down however, and by the time we remembered that we had thought of something, we couldn't remember what that something was. So days later, when out of the blue I said "scripture case" and he knew exactly what I meant by it and didn't find my outburst odd, I couldn't help but laugh and love him more.

So now that I've started this blog with sappy love stories, I guess it's time I explain what's really going on in my life. To start with: I'm alright. So no panicking and no freaking out, alright? I'm having some medical problems. It started Sunday morning when I woke up. My muscles were twitching and spazzing rapidly. I'm assuming everyone has felt a muscle spasm at some point. Now imagine it is happening for hours all over your body. It's like my muscles are hiccuping. It's not painful, but it is frustrating and annoying. It happened all day Sunday. It would get worse and then better as I relaxed. I took a muscle relaxant in order to sit through church, but by the end of the third hour, it was just getting difficult to not draw attention to myself. 

Monday, I woke up with spasms again, but felt better after I got up and moved around some. I went to my classes, and I was fine for the most part. There was still an anxious feeling to my body, and ever now and then I would twitch again. I came home and twitched more again, especially when I would lay down. I was ok enough to sleep, but woke up a few hours later convulsing. In my half-asleep state, I started panicking, which only made it worse. Through my tears of frustration and anxiety, Stephen held me and tried to comfort me as much as possible. He would give me massages that turned out to be too painful for my tense muscles. Finally, I asked him for a blessing. He changed into church clothes and consecrated some oil. After anointing me, he commanded my body to be at peace, and the moment he did, in a very miraculous, testimony building way, my body instantly calmed down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Stephen was feeling the Spirit very strongly too by the time the blessing ended. I was so exhausted, we said a prayer of gratitude and I was asleep within minutes.

I wish that was the end of the story, because that's a happy, faithful ending.

Tuesday, I woke up and vomited. My spasms were back and I felt miserable. I messaged my boss and told her I was too sick to work and would sleep more and see if that helped. Stephen tucked me back into bed and left for work. I slept some, but woke up still convulsing. I called Tiffany, who talked with her mother's husband (a doctor) and they both recommended I see a doctor. Convulsing for three days wasn't good, they said. I tried to convince her I was fine, but I started to wonder myself if this problem wasn't going to go away on its own. I took another nap around noon after I told my boss I wasn't going to make it to work that day at all. When I woke up from this nap, I was convulsing worse than I had up to that point. I was shaking all over and couldn't make myself sit still very well. Stephen called me and told me to go to a doctor too. I scheduled an appointment and asked my friend for a ride.

When I got there, I think I scared the nurse who took my vitals. Throughout my whole trip, there was not a minute where I was calm enough to sit still for more than a few seconds. The doctor walked in and looked at me like I was possessed (which I may be--anyone know an exorcist?) and asked me a million questions and checked me out. He observed me doing simple movement tasks and checked my reflexes and for the most part, I did everything just fine. He stared at his computer screen for at least ten minutes in silence as I convulsed in the corner as politely and patiently as I could. He then finally told me he had little idea what was wrong with me (comforting) and guessed it might be related to restless leg syndrome--except it happens all over my body all throughout the day with no triggers or treatments. He prescribed me some medicine used to treat Parkinson's Disease and ordered a blood test. He told me to take the medicine for the next few days and see him again on Thursday. If I don't improve by then, he'll call in some consultants, maybe a neurologist or a psychiatrist. I tried to tell my doctor that it wasn't a big deal, and he looked at me and said "Are you kidding? This is incapacitating your life." I shrugged, not able to refute him.

Getting my blood drawn was fun. The plebotomist looked at me and asked if I was ok, or if I was reacting to having my blood drawn. He said "Are you shaking because your getting your blood drawn?" I then replied, "No, I'm getting my blood drawn because I'm shaking." He had to hold my whole arm down and just stab me as soon as I was still enough. Kind of painful, actually, but it worked well enough. My friend drove me home and I laid in bed and shook until Stephen got home. He took good care of me and helped me as much as he could last night. I took the medicine and felt pretty drowsy soon afterwards. Those that know me well know I'm sensitive to medicine. I was completely loopy last night and my mind was all over the place. I probably only remember half of the things I said to Stephen. You'll have to check with him. He tucked me into bed early and let me sleep while he did his homework.

This morning, after much consultation with friends and with Stephen, I was convinced that this might be due to stress, and that I should take the week off and relax as much as possible. I stayed home from school and emailed my teachers, asking for patience from them. Stephen has been counseling me to not worry, but I still feel like I'm being lazy, or taking the easy way out, or cheating. But when I'm sitting in a chair, shaking and spazing so much that I'm gasping and making noises because my diaphragm is tensing, it's kind of impossible to sit through class without disrupting it. So I'm home today again, doing nothing because doctor's orders. It's frustrating but I'm trying to make as many jokes about it as I can and keep myself positive.

So life is crazy sometimes. There are Saturdays where I decorate my apartment with my husband and there are Tuesdays where a doctor is baffled by inability to control my muscles. Stephen assures me he loves me, even if I'm convulsing, so that's good. He says I don't take care of myself enough, and is urging me to focus on my health and not worry about school or work if necessary. I find it hard to be that selfish. But it's hard to argue with him while stuttering and thrashing in bed (p.s. I stutter too from this). I've never heard of such an affliction, and the internet hasn't seem to either. I'm doing a lot better today. Enough so that I can type out this post without too much hassle. Maybe the medication is working. Maybe this affliction is on the decline. Maybe it really is caused by stress and taking a day off or a week off will solve it. But it could be worse, and I have so much to be grateful for. At least it's not painful when I twitch. I guess moral of the story: Priesthood is awesome and the human body is a curious creation. Oh, and take it easy sometimes. I'm still learning that lesson though. I just want to do everything perfectly all at once immediately. Instead, I'm essentially on bed rest. Please, keep me in your prayer.