Christmas 2001 - right after being diagnosed with pituitary failure
After the initial diagnosis of pituitary failure, it was time for follow-up tests to confirm. The Cortrosyn stimulation test supported my doctor’s conclusion and an MRI was scheduled for the first week of December. I had never thought of myself as being claustrophobic, but when they put me in that ‘tube’ I just about lost it. It was all I could do to keep from going into a total panic for the 30 minutes I had to lay there. I closed my eyes and pretended to be somewhere else… Maybe I wasn’t such a tough guy after all…
During the follow-up appointment, a treatment plan was laid out. But when I read the MRI results, I felt a bit of concern. The MRI showed no abnormalities in the pituitary gland – no tumor or any other damage. So I asked my doctor if he was sure that he had the correct diagnosis. “Mr. Shelton, it appears that your pituitary gland was attacked by your immune system, just like it did your thyroid when you developed hypothyroidism back in 1989. That won’t necessarily show up in the MRI.” It sounded logical so the only thing to do was get rolling with all my new hormone medications. I had already begun taking Cortef to get my cortisol levels up and would soon start testosterone shots and eventually growth hormone.
Slowly, I could feel the fog beginning to lift… For years, even the smallest tasks had often seemed overwhelming, but now they didn’t seem so daunting. My physical energy was increasing daily and I began to feel that emotionally I was no longer running on fumes… My spark was coming back and I began to feel a glimpse of what it was like to be returning to the ‘real’ me… A counselor had told me years before that when a person is sick for such a long time they forget what it is like to be ‘normal’. They are so used to living a compromised quality of life that they no longer realize just how much chronic illness has affected them. As jazzed as I was to be feeling better, I also found myself having to cope with the emotional fallout of fighting this battle. How paradoxical to be feeling so excited about getting my health back while at the same time having to work through the feelings of loss as more than ever I realized what this illness had cost me. But before I knew it, I was on the flight home for Christmas…anxious to celebrate my big breakthrough and share my dreams of a starting a new life.
It was a great feeling to see my family and share the good news. My Mom seemed so relieved – maybe even giddy - as I confidently explained that managing my condition was straight-forward and that within a short time I could return to work and finally lead a normal life. And from what I understood it was as simple as taking the hormone medications and occasionally adjusting the dosages when needed. Sounded like a no-brainer to me! But my big turnaround was overshadowed by ever-increasing concerns about my brother Jerry’s health…
Jerry had multiple-bypass heart surgery several months earlier and was lucky just to survive the operation. We were all praying and hoping that he would fully recover but the surgeon did not feel optimistic about his long-term prognosis. In his view, the procedure had only bought Jerry a little more time. No one voiced what we all feared – that maybe this would be the last Christmas we shared with Jerry. On the surface, he was his usual optimistic and funny self, but he couldn’t hide the pain. I watched as he popped heart pills like breath mints. We went on with our Christmas activities like we always did but I couldn’t ignore the look of concern on my Mom’s face. To the world, Jerry was just another middle-aged guy who brought on his heart disease by not taking care of himself and smoking for over thirty years. Sorry Charlie…you asked for it! But I knew that in Mom’s eyes she still saw her little boy… hurting so much… and powerless to do anything about it. Right then and there I knew I had to do whatever I could so that she never had to suffer through that helpless feeling with me. Certainly, I had endured a tremendously difficult and exhausting ordeal fighting illness for the past 5 years. No doubt about it. But I was lucky enough to sail through the storm…to calmer seas…and the promise of a new life.
It was hard to say goodbye to everyone as I got ready to go to the airport - especially Jerry. But as always, he offered me words of encouragement… “Good luck Jim with the treatment…I know you’ll be back on your bike before too long. Ain’t it something how those doctors all these years said it was all in your head? And what about your friends who thought your medical condition was simply a character flaw. The truth is Jim, they just don’t know you – but I do. They just didn’t get it. But maybe now they’ll finally treat you with the respect you deserved all along… Take care and I’ll see you soon.” On the flight back to San Diego, it hit me that this comeback was for real! This was the first comeback where I was actually being treated for the illness that derailed all my previous comeback attempts. Could I actually be on my way to getting my life back?! Without illness holding me back I had no doubt that I would get into the best shape of my life, get my career back on track…and even find a woman to share it all with…
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