By Nika C. Beamon

I am, and probably always will be, a “drug addict”, forced to swallow pills daily to function like a so called “normal” person. I suspect I was never “normal;” it’s a fact I couldn’t ignore by the time I was in my senior year at Boston College nearly 20 years ago. It’s taken me two decades to learn what is contributing to my body withering down to my “fighting” weight; a thin frame I never thought I’d see again. In fact, I used to joke with my friends that I had eaten the old me long ago so that chick was never coming back. But, here she is. While I am happy to be able to see my toes without peering over the spare tire caused by years of bloating, prescription pills, inactivity, and a diet based on need rather than taste, the fact that I am physically weaker with less stamina reminds me of how broken down I had to get before I found an answer to the mysterious illness attacking me.

The possibility that I was being attacked by an autoimmune condition was bantered about for years. Nearly three dozen doctors lit up my insides like the Empire State Building, dissected pounds of flesh and extracted gallons of blood from me trying to come up with the correct diagnosis. But, they failed time and time again. Instead, I was given a mini pharmacy worth of drugs to “cure” the random illness.

Despite devastating setbacks and unspeakable frustration, I continued to go down a who’s who list of doctors until I got a definitive answer, one that seemed to explain my plethora of problems. It sounds like I’m speaking in code when I tell people what’s ailing me: I have IgG4 related systemic disease. If you’re thinking: “What?” You’re not alone. It’s the same thing I thought the first time I heard it. I had to look it up to understand. So, what is it? It’s a chronic inflammatory disease which can cause excess connective tissue to form in multiple organs. In my case, it has assaulted and honed in on my liver, pancreas and lymph nodes. It’s a rare condition and I have it.

I have a name for the enemy that has sidelined so many things in my life like children, vacations, financial security and basic physical comfort. All I can do is hopefully subdue it with the proper treatment. But, what’s that? Rare conditions like this one make the right course of action difficult to find. I just didn’t know it until I tried to run over to my nearest doctor to say, “Cure me.” The response: There is no cure.

My body may still be broken but my soul is finally healed. It’s not torn apart by doubt and fear of the unknown anymore. I have a new-found peace because I finally know what my ailment is. I can now accept not only my frailties face them with a better frame of mind.

– Nika C. Beamon is a veteran television journalist working in New York. She is the author of I DIDN’T WORK THIS HARD JUST TO GET MARRIED. Through lively and revealing interviews with women from various walks of life, Nika Beamon explores the challenges and issues affecting single women. She’s currently awaiting the publication of her memoir: Misdiagnosed: The Search for Dr. House. To read more about it: https://www.facebook.com/MisdiagnosedTheSearchForDrHouse In 2000, she published her first mystery novel, Dark Recesses, the poignant tale of David Jackson, a promising, young attorney who travels to rural Virginia for a family reunion and is entangled in a web of betrayal that had been hidden in his family tree. In 2002, she completed her second novel, Eyewitness.