I’ve been thinking about no-win scenarios quite a bit over the last few years because illness is starting to feel like one. I’m starting to think that I am living in my very own Kobayashi Maru simulator.
*It’s going to get nerdy for a second* In the Star
Trek universe, the Kobayashi Maru is a simulated test for Starfleet cadets.
They are presented with a scenario that is rigged to cause destruction and loss
of life no matter what choice is made, and the cadet's response to the test
demonstrates their character and leadership skills. The conditions of the test
ensure no can “win” it.
My last few appointments really solidified this for
me.
Going to Stanford two weeks ago included a lovely
stay at our favorite hotel in Palo Alto that was a serious splurge (but so
worth it) and a very anti-climactic appointment. I had been waiting to see my neurologist
for a year, and in that time I had to leave my dream job, stop driving, and I rarely
leave my house. I went through more testing than I can remember in a year, on
top of all the testing of the last 5 years. I had to start using a wheelchair, which
I must say I’m finally getting pretty good at using. So much has changed.
Appointments with him are usually about an hour, but I only got 20 minutes with
him because he was running behind.
He explained that although the signs may point to
Myasthenia Gravis, none of my test results can solidly confirm it, and he said
we have to be absolutely sure because my treatment options going forward if
that is the diagnosis “will not be good.” They can cause as much harm as they can
help. Woo hoo!
I have to do a CT scan of my thymus and then
potentially have surgery to have it removed. Sometimes Myasthenia can be caused by an enlarged thymus or benign
tumors on the thymus. A scan will show if it is causing trouble for me.
Other treatments for MG are immunosuppressants like
Prednisone, which are known colloquially as “magic poison” for a reason, IVIG,
or plasmapharesis. A constant dose of Prednisone can cause long-term damage and
lead to other problems, but many people with autoimmune diseases rely on it. IVIG can also cause other problems. My
new local neurologist who I saw last week explained all of these options are “multiple
steps up from taking medication and dealing with side effects. We have to be
sure.”
I already knew about these treatment options for some
time. After I saw the note that said “serological Myasthenia Gravis” on my
bloodwork a year ago, I have done a lot of research since then. I had never
even heard of MG before that or even knew what a thymus was until a year ago.
It’s amazing the things you learn through this process.
I also learned that the medications I’ve been taking
for MG and POTS contradict. I’ve been taking Mestinon for about 8 months, which
is typically used to treat MG, and it has been a life saver. It has made such a huge difference. However,
it aggravates some of my POTS symptoms so I’ve had to take a minuscule dose and
work my way up to a regular dose. The Florinef I’ve been on for 3 years is
contraindicated for MG because it causes muscle weakness and is likely
contributing to my breathing problems, which explains why I have never ever felt
good on it. My attempts to get off of it have been unsuccessful but I have to
keep trying.
I guess this is the thing with comorbidity: medicine
is not an exact science and your conditions can conflict, each trying to prove
their alpha status and dominance. So if I get the Myasthenia diagnosis I feel
screwed with the treatment options. If I don’t, I continue to be exiled in the grey haze outside of the nirvana of diagnosable conditions, still waiting for a
tangible label.
In the bigger picture, I’ve had to slowly accept that
these conditions are likely lifelong and now it’s time to figure out what the
way forward will look like.
It always feels like every ounce of progress that is
made must come with some sort of setback or hardship, like the game is rigged
for an unwinnable victory. Yet, I believe “defeat” and “success” are not absolute terms. They can be self-defined inside and outside of the parameters of this chronic illness game. I believe we
are masters of our own destiny despite whatever external forces try to push and
pull us from our trajectory.
So if I really am in a Kobayashi Maru simulator, I
need to figure out some cheat codes to either cope with these seemingly
unwinnable scenarios or hope that someone accidentally steps over the plug and
I go back to my normal life.
Stay with me on this metaphor. Recognizing that
illness is like a no-win simulator is not a matter of resignation—it is a hail
Mary, hard-fought, grit-filled realization that acceptance is the
only way forward. It is the courage in realizing that you may not win the war
but you won’t give up the battle, no matter how ugly it will get in the
trenches. But it doesn’t have to be a no-win scenario. You have to find other
ways to “win.”
You can change the game, change the rules, change
perspective. Dig deep and find your inner James T. Kirk and change the
conditions of the game and get away with it on pure charisma and bad-assery.
You have to find your own cheat codes. Even if we
can’t rid our bodies of illness, we do have the power to change our
perspectives. These are some “cheat codes” I’ve come up with, things I think of
or try to remember while fighting what seems like a no-win battle.
*You can find a printable version here
*You can find a printable version here
1. In
the dark depths of a bad day or a bad week(s), try to remember that they serve
to punctuate the sweetness of the ok days and even the once in a blue moon
great days
2. Remember
what you do have control over in terms of your illness and your life, whether
it be your diet, your routine, your exercise efforts, your attitude, your will
to keep going, your passions
3. The
hard times and dark periods are like battle medals: you fought hard to win
them. You survived this long, so you can survive whatever may come
4. You
can live in denial that leads to endless frustration, or you can live with
acceptance and find a path forward for the best life possible. This one took me
a long time to really learn
5. The past and future barely matter. The present is really the only reality that matters. Live the fullest life you can in just this moment.
6. You
are the ultimate decider when it comes to how you handle and treat your
condition. I really believe that we still have choices, even when it comes to
medical treatment. Your intuition is an asset. Hold onto your voice because you
are not powerless
7. Even
if you have a tenuous relationship with hope and you and hope part ways for a
brief time, hope will always be there waiting for you to return when you need
it most
8. You
have a story to tell that matters. Never surrender it
9. You
play this game long enough, you get even better at it
10. Success and victory can be self-defined. The
conditions of the game may constantly change and continue to seem
insurmountable, but you can adapt and “win” each day on your own terms
Bonus: Chocolate is a great listener
Bonus: Chocolate is a great listener
Keep up the good fight no matter what obstacles are placed in front of you. Cheat if you have to. We got
this.
Hi Stefanie! Just want to thank you for your posts and your wisdom. I also deal with POTS and I have autonomic neuropathy of an unknown origin. One thing I think of, especially when my hope is hanging by a thread, is "This has been a fascinating ride so far. I need to stick around to see the ending to this tumultuous tale!" :). One thing holds true for sure and that is that we are not alone. Thank goodness for the Internet! When used properly, it can link us all together. Anyway, thank you again. We also share song writing too! S
ReplyDeleteHi Shauna. Thanks for reading! I love the idea that this is a "ride" or a story to follow until the end. Great analogy :)
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