Part 1: Chronic EBV

This is my Senior picture, 2006, I know, forever ago!! This is a year before I was diagnosed with Chronic EBV. After starting college and having scholarships, being on the Dean's List, Honors etc. My health declined, rapidly.

I had always been kinda sickly growing up. I only had enough energy to do one thing a day, school or church. Mom and dad started to realized I would be too sick to go to school on Monday if we did anything more than Church on Sunday.

In High School, I was in the Pre IB and IB programs. I was a good student and spent a lot of time studying. My joints hurt, I had tummy issues, got x-rays, scopes and biopsies, a lot of medications, specialists, etc... I couldn't participate in sports but I am thankful for Orchestra.

Once I was in college, I was working more AND a full time student. By the 3rd trimester, I could hardly get to class. I could complete my assignments and had great grades, but the attendance policy made me fail and dropout. I just had no energy, pain and I just couldn't. Work was the same way. And I would go days without being able to get out of bed for more than to eat and use the restroom.

I finally went to a new Dr. I had been researching my symptoms and all the things that I had been through and asked about EBV. The old Dr. said that if I was diagnosed with EBV it would end my life, so he never tested me. My new Dr. was a blessing and a curse. He sent me to an infectious disease specialist, and she did the tests and confirmed with tests that I did in fact not only have EBV but I had the worst of the 2 with Chronic EBV. Having a reason helped, at least I was not crazy, it wasn't all in my head. Which my new Dr. was trying to help with my depression at the time by medicating me, and combining medications, since I wasn't improving, that ended me in the ER and weening off the meds. That has had irreversible effects on my memory, and also changed my handwriting.

Having a diagnosis helped, but there was no treatment. And in the eyes of the medical field, I was not 'progressed' enough to have further treatment or have a disability. I would go weeks hardly being able to get out of bed, which fed the depression.