My Story by Louise Pace
When I was forty-two years old, I was living in an affluent Florida community, working successfully at a career in real estate that I enjoyed, traveling, exercising daily, eating well, and socializing with friends and family. I was happy and content, living a lifestyle anyone would envy. I felt like I was on the top of the world. There was nothing that I missed or needed; I had it all! I never dreamed that life as I lived it at that time could change so dramatically and so irrevocably. The next four years would prove to be a living hell.
Change came gradually and insidiously at first. During one of my workouts, for example, I noticed large black and blue marks on my legs. I ignored them until my trainer noticed them as well. I then consulted an internist who kindly told me not to worry. He felt that because I was “thin skinned,” my strenuous workouts, especially on the nautilus machine, were no doubt responsible. When the black and blue marks persisted for months, I consulted another physician because I had read that bruising may be a symptom of leukemia. Fortunately, the tests for leukemia were negative, but the physician suggested that I was being beaten and abused and suggested that I seek help from a shelter. I denied abuse of any kind, but the physician kindly said, “All women deny it initially.” Because the physician could not be dissuaded, I consulted yet another internist who suggested that I had a vitamin K deficiency. Vitamin K therapy was instituted; however, the bruising not only persisted but worsened.
During this same period, I became amenorrheic and complained of hot flashes, mood swings, and insomnia. Because my mother experienced early menopause (in her forties), I assumed that I was beginning “the change.” My gynecologist prescribed estrogen replacement therapy because he was confident that “I was exhibiting all of the signs and symptoms of menopause.” I bled for six weeks, in addition to feeling severely fatigued, emotionally drained, and increasingly incapable of following my normal routine. I returned to the gynecologist complaining of feeling worse not better. “Calm down,” he said, “you are being overly dramatic. It merely takes time for the estrogen to kick in.”
After several more months, I became increasingly despondent over my loss of physical well-being. I was tired and irritable most of the time and was experiencing minor depression and confusion. It is at this time that I developed reddish-purple linear markings on my chest and arms. Some days these markings were remarkably bright, while on others, they were somewhat faded. The markings never seemed to appear in the same spot but travelled from place to place on my arms and chest. A dermatologist suggested that I had abused my skin by sunbathing for twenty years. Although admittedly a sunbather as a young woman, working long hours allowed very little time for that kind of activity in the recent past.
At a friend’s suggestion, I consulted a tropical disease specialist since I had travelled to China, Nepal, and Africa within the past two years. The specialist was confident that I had contracted a skin parasite indigenous to the areas I had visited. I refused the treatment that was suggested as I was not convinced that I had contracted a parasite, and the treatment seemed too invasive.
Another troubling symptom appeared which merely compounded the despondency that I was experiencing. I began to gain weight, a most unusual event for someone who had maintained a trim figure at 124 pounds for thirty years and who maintained such a vigorous diet and exercise routine. A new gynecologist told me that I looked pregnant and ordered a pregnancy test, even though I protested that my tubes had been tied and I was not currently sexually active. At this point, I began to travel back and forth to Boston to be with my family. My work suffered. Months had gone by, bringing a worsening of both physical and emotional symptoms. I continued to gain weight, and at times, experienced extreme paranoia and confusion, bordering on psychosis. My hair began to thin to the point at which my scalp was showing. My body hair disappeared completely. I cried every day when I looked in the mirror at my fat, ugly, balding self, for which no one had an answer. I felt as if someone had put an air hose in me and blew me up.
