In a Funk, Party of 1? In a Funk, Party of 1!?!...

Oh, wait, that's me.  Over here.  Yep, me.  

Sigh.

I'm not really much for being in a funk.  Or having pity parties.  Or letting something out of my control get me down.  

However you want to say it, that's not really me.

Honestly, I am much more of "that's the way it is" gal.  The glass isn't half-full or half-empty.  It's just a glass with some liquid in it.  No need to assign positive or negative emotion to something that simply "is."  

That's really the way I approach most things in life.  It is what it is.  Certainly felt that way about the Celiac's diagnosis.  It is what it is.  Gluten is out.  Okay, let's make it happen.  I'm sure I grieved the loss of KFC biscuits at some point.  And then at multiple points since then but for the most part, it is what it is.

This.  Though.  This new thing.  I'm pretty emotion-filled about it.  And there's not much positive.  

After seven months of getting sick, feeling exhausted, trying something and then trying something else, I have been officially diagnosed with asthma.

Adult onset asthma.

Did you know the flu can cause asthma?

Right?

Apparently, the flu in December left me the gift that keeps on giving.  And unlike childhood asthma which is sometimes outgrown, this isn't.  I'm stuck with it.  

To make it absolutely awesome, my allergies could be one of the triggers for these "flu" like illnesses.  Not entirely convinced of that but it's possible.  Thus, I got allergy testing done.  

Surprise, surprise.  I'm allergic to everything.

No, seriously.  

Apparently, only 30% of the population suffers from allergies.  Of those, most are allergic to one or two specific things.  I, however, am part of an exclusive club who are allergic to literally everything.  

I have photographic evidence of the whelps on my back but I feel confident most don't want to see it.  I'll be adding that to the photo album of my ovaries, Lulu and Rita, my uterus, and Sally, my small intestine.

Unfortunately, there are no membership privileges for this club.  The doctor simple said I was an "extreme" case.  I asked about a secret handshake or a merit badge of some sort but no.  Just the opportunity for a year's worth of shots.  And another handful of drugs.

So for those of you keeping score at home, let's recap all the things that make me medically "special."

1. Infertility.  

2.  Uterus cramping up like I was dying during an IUI ("that's never happened in 20 years")

3.  Growing ovarian cysts and having to cancel cycle on Lupron ("that's never happened in 20 years")

4.  Celiac's Disease

5.  Exploding uterus (only 1% of uterus's do this)

6.  Flu causing Adult Onset Asthma

7.  Extreme Allergies

Good times.

Can I just tell you how so very much I do not want to be this kind of "special?"

Let's face it.  I am enough "special" simply being unable to eat food.  People have actually said to me they wished they had something to make them sick when they ate cake.  I get that.  Really.  But you don't want it.  I promise.  

Because I am just every one's favorite dinner guest.  

Not only do I show up with my own food, but I likely won't eat any food provided even if it is gluten-free because I have no idea how it was prepared, where it was prepared and if there was some flour in the pan the last time it was used.  

Super fun dinner guest.  

Even eating out is special.  I have to be firm with the staff and everyone just loooovvveesss difficult customers.

But now, oh now, I'm another level of super fun.  Now I may not be able to be around your fancy air freshener.  Or your cat.  Or your perfume.  Or your kids who have a runny nose.  

Because all that could aggravate my allergies, cause a little stuffy nose and all the sudden I'm in bed for two days wheezing.

Any sniffle I get could (and according to the doctor, will likely) turn into bronchitis.  

Ummmm...yay.

What I really, really, really wanted was another chronic condition to make me that much more special.

So, let's just say, I'm not feeling all that "fearfully and wonderfully made."  

Feeling much more, "Oops, I did it again."

This won't last forever.  Not interested in sinking back into a corner and letting this define me.  I have too many reasons, specifically two adorable blond-haired-blue-eyed reasons, to let that happen.  

But today, maybe this week, I'm going to allow myself some time to adjust.  Grieve the loss of normal breathing.  Have a funeral for rolling out of bed and feeling fine.  Build a memorial next to my treadmill for all those effortless six miles runs.  

Then I'll put all that behind me and move on to celebrating the fact it's not lung cancer.  Plan a parade for no fibromyalgia.  Call in a song and dedication for no lupus.  And tooting my kazoo when I run two or three miles.  For now.  

Today though.  Today, I just need a minute to catch my breath (pun totally intended) and wrap my brain around my new life.  And figure out the best display spot for my numerous drugs and inhalers I now own.