by Judith Ford
Actor “Jude” Suffering, dramatization of author Judith Ford in Discovery Health Channel series Mystery ER, photos © 2008 by Judith Ford. All rights reserved.
Last April, when Discovery Health Channel contacted me, I’d been working on my book, Fever of Unknown Origin, for over 15 years. I never intended it to be what it turned out to be—a 600-page manuscript with multiple plotlines and themes. It started out as a way to come to terms with a serious illness that put me in the hospital for most of the summer of 1990.
But while I wrote, my life kept happening. My parents got sick and died; their stories seeped into the book. What I thought and felt about my illness, about illness in general and about death, changed. I did countless rewrites. In 2003, I launched a website, www.judithford.com, expecting I’d be ready to market the manuscript within a year. That didn’t happen. I got discouraged and quit writing more than once, each time returning weeks later with renewed vision, scrapping whole chapters, restructuring and polishing what remained. Fever and I had been alone together too long; I’d lost momentum.
And then I received the Discovery Health Channel email. Bill, a “finder” for the network, found my website. He was looking for stories for a new TV series called Mystery ER. “Yours would be a great story for us,” he told me, “and free publicity for you.”
I didn’t jump at the offer. I’d watched Discovery Health Channel once or twice and knew that it aired stories of real people dealing with dramatic medical issues. I wasn’t sure participating would be good for me or for Fever. I told Bill I’d think it over. He sent me a CD with samples of Mystery ER.
The first opened with a woman having energetic convulsions on an ER gurney. The second involved an orthodox Jewish boy who’d contracted trichinosis, somehow, without ever having eaten pork. He collapsed in an ER doorway. While the stories were presented with respect for the patients and what looked like medical accuracy, I didn’t see how my book would fit. It contained no scenes of me passing out or seizing.
My illness had developed in slow motion, starting in 1979 with bone-numbing fatigue, low fevers, and an odd prickly rash. I went to doctors who theorized hypoglycemia, spider bites, allergies, chronic mono. None had treatment suggestions, so after two years of feeling like hell, I created my own plan. It included lots of sleep, no refined sugar or white flour, daily lap swimming, dance classes, yoga, and meditation.
Gradually, I got well and stayed well until 1990, when all the symptoms returned, this time with higher fevers. I also developed anemia, systemic inflammation, and eventually, ulcerative colitis. All dramatic enough to compel me to write but not, I thought, material for a TV show. How could Mystery ER dramatize a fever of 106, an itchy rash, abnormal liver function, and an enlarged spleen? And how in the world could they condense what had become a story about my life into thirty minutes?
“Not to worry,” Nora, the producer, told me. “We’ll just deal with your illness, not the rest of the book, and we’ll write it in a way that’s compelling and authentic.” She offered to come to Milwaukee to interview on camera me, my husband, Chris, and one of my doctors. The show would include clips of our interviews interspersed with dramatizations, played by actors. “And,” said Nora, “we’ll let you mention your book on camera.” It was the promise of book publicity that made me say “Yes.”
The morning of the filming, the lighting and sound guys took over my friend Judy’s downtown Milwaukee condo. They banished her, her four-year-old granddaughter, and three dogs to the master bedroom. The TV crew moved furniture, set up shades to block the floor-to-ceiling windows, and demanded absolute silence. Each interview was two-and-a-half hours long, including breaks to deal with shifting light, the phone ringing, and the grandchild slinking out to lean adorably—but distractingly—against the wall to watch us.
At first, I enjoyed being asked detailed questions about my illness. What was my life like when it began? Busy, way, way busy. Had I believed my first recovery, in 1981, had happened as a result of meditation and dietary changes? Yes, I thought I’d been mentally and physically amazing. But as we got more deeply into the summer of 1990, my energy flagged. Frankly, having written in so many ways and in such detail about my suffering, I was bored by it.
I perked up when we got to the part about my friend and former teacher, Dick, coming to the hospital to do a healing hypnosis two days before I was scheduled to have my colon removed. The night after the hypnosis I slept well for the first time in months. The colon symptoms abated and the colonectomy was cancelled. I went home five days later.
Nora perked up, too. “So when the medical people had given up on you, this other form of healing cured you?” Um. No. The medical people had far from given up; they were pumping me full of IV Prednisone and Demerol. They drew my blood many times a day. They’d hooked me up to a chest tube through which I was getting all my nutrition. My turn-for-the-better was sudden and wonderful, but it wasn’t magic, nor was it complete. It took two more months before I could go back to work. I had a serious relapse in 1997.
I explained this to Nora but her fascination made me worry that she was going to spin my story in a direction I didn’t want it to go.
“Did you feel that this was divine intervention?”
“Not really,” I said.
The questions about what causes and cures disease are big and wide and controversial. My exploration of those questions is central to Fever and impossible to capture in sound-bites. Before I got sick in 1990, I would have told Nora that health was a decision, that most people could make themselves well with a combination of focus, relaxation, right thinking, and right eating. My 1990 relapse, eventually diagnosed as Adult Onset Stills Disease, blew all that certainty and bravado to bits. The only thing I knew for sure afterwards was that life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, precious, and brief.
At the end of my interview, Nora asked me what message I’d like to send to other people struggling with mysterious illnesses. I laughed out loud. “I spent 15 years and 600 pages on that,” I told her. “Give it a try,” she said.
I responded with something generic, like, “Every person who gets sick has to come up with their own sense of meaning.” Later, I wished I’d talked instead about how the illness changed me. How it humbled me. How it taught me to let go.
My doctor, Dr. M, was interviewed last. Just before her session, she whispered to me, “I don’t think I should be here. I don’t think what you had was Stills Disease.” She thought my diagnosis was ulcerative colitis, despite the fact that three other doctors had suggested the Stills label, conjecturing that the colitis had been caused by a drug reaction. I hadn’t had a colon symptom in 18 years. I reminded Dr. M. that even the gastroenterologist had rejected the colitis theory. “No,” she said, “I’m certain.”
Great, I thought. The whole show revolved around the Stills diagnosis. Would there be any show without it? Did I even want there to be a show?
While Dr. M was being interviewed in another room, I sat and worried over everything I had and hadn’t said. I wondered if I was doing my book a disservice, allowing it to be reduced to the one thin, unexamined plotline of my disease.
Nora took a break from Dr. M’s session to tell me, “Your doctor is driving me nuts. She’s giving me paragraphs of medical facts; none of our viewers will know what she’s talking about.”
“And,” Nora added, “she doesn’t think you ever had Stills disease.”
“Can we still do the show?” I asked, suddenly sure I did, in fact, want the show to go on.
“Oh yeah, we can edit out whatever doesn’t fit. It’s just annoying.”
And edit they did. The interview segments that took all day to film amounted to ten minutes of on-screen time.
“Inflamed,” my Mystery ER story, debuted on September 1. I expected the worst. What if they’d included my inane closing statement about “Everyone has their own meaning blah blah blah”? What if I looked old and dumpy? What if the editors made it sound like I’d cured myself with my mind? What if my story was no longer mine? I felt comfortable enough surrendering to the TV people at the time I signed release forms, yet as the Mystery ER logo lit up the TV screen I wanted to snatch my story back and protect it like the vulnerable newborn it suddenly seemed to be.
But really, the show was okay. More than okay. There were the requisite overly-dramatic bits – like a shot of my hypochondriac mother in a black shawl murmuring “I’m going to die,” and me in the kitchen frantically throwing out all the junk food when I was diagnosed as hypoglycemic. And the silly shot of me sitting in a yoga pose.
The interview sections, though, were fine. I looked okay and sounded smart enough to not embarrass myself. And, thank you very much, “everyone has to find their own meaning” ended up on the cutting room floor. As did all mention of my book. So much for the “free publicity.”
Now, two months later, I don’t mind losing the publicity. Much unexpected good has come of “Inflamed.” The friends who watched the show with me have gotten a lot of mileage out of doing imitations of my moaning mother. My sister-in-law has threatened to give me a black shawl for Christmas. Chris enjoyed seeing himself played by a handsome young actor with great pecs. My life-long running practice, an important theme in the book, made it into the script, and I loved seeing my actor-self running with better form than my own.
In the weeks since the show aired, all kinds of people—neighbors, former clients, the UPS man—have told me how much they liked the show, how impressed they were by the interview segments, and to ask if I’m well now. I am.
But here’s the really great part: Mystery ER lit a fire under me. It gave Fever more definition, more weight. It made me want to finish the book. It matters a great deal to me that a TV channel was interested in my story and that people who saw the show were touched by it.
This past summer, I went to a “How to sell your book” workshop at The Loft in Minneapolis and learned that a memoir doesn’t have to be completed before you market it. I hired a consultant to help me write the book proposal. She told me that mentioning Mystery ER in my cover letter would make busy editors and agents pay more attention. The proposal packets took most of August to write and assemble. Last week I sent out the first batch to eleven literary agents.
I’m doing the rest of the revisions with new enthusiasm, working every day. Fever and I aren’t alone together any more; I can feel my audience now, out there, waiting.
The “Silly” Yoga Pose, author Judith Ford in Mystery ER show
“Inflamed,” photo © 2008 by Judith Ford. All rights reserved.
Judith Ford is a psychotherapist and writer who lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She was red Ravine’s very first guest writer, with her 25 Reasons I Write post. Reason #14: “I write to finish this damn book and it isn’t done yet.” (Remember that one, Jude? J)
You can eventually see the show, “Inflamed,” about Judith’s illness, as Discovery Health Channel re-runs all the episodes of Mystery ER. Check your local listings.
Oh, and all Mystery ER names have been changed.
What fun it was to sit down and watch the episode, to see Jude and Chris, and to have the story told. The episode doesn’t do justice to the exquisite writing that Jude has done for the book. I look forward to having a chance to buy it AND have it autographed by the author.
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For being a piece about a serious health ailment, this post has a lot of lightness to it, Jude. I wanted to compliment you on that, first of all, because it struck me that your voice in this piece, and way you took this Mystery ER experience in stride—well, I can’t help but think that same ease must also benefit you in how you approach Adult Onset Stills Disease.
Also, I was curious about the “Adult Onset” part of that ailment, because of course, I think of “Early Onset” types of diseases, like when Alzheimer’s—a normally old-age disease that hits someone who is younger than 50 years old. So I wondered, what is “Adult Onset”? That’s really the question I had as I probed around on the International Still’s Disease Foundation Website. I was fascinated to learn that Stills Disease can also occur in children, and so the “AO” indicated that this version was in adults. At least that’s what I got from reading the FAQ on that website.
I do think people are naturally curious about disease and medical procedures, which accounts for the success of programs like Mystery ER. Also think that voyeur desire in us all will bode well for your book. I do wonder how that feels to you, someone who has lived with this disease. Is it sometimes an annoyance to know there are so many people who are curious about something deeply personal?
I mean, you’ve made it clear in your writing that you have found that enthusiasm and compassion of others as a result of the airing of “Inflamed” to be inspiring. I guess I wonder if it can also be a double-edged sword, whereby sometimes it is trying to have the world wanting to look in on your life that way. And if so, how do you balance those two perspectives?
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Yes, ybonesy – the attention paid to the illness does make me feel a little squirmy sometimes. Not sure why. Even watching the DVD of Mystery ER with Bob and Teri a few months ago made me a little uncomfortable. Despite how welcome and essential their support is. I tend to be an introvert and I suppose that’s part of why I don’t always relish public exposure. What I do like a lot, though, is when people who have a chronic illness – or a family member with a chronic illness – are touched by my story and share with me their own thoughts and experiences dealing with illness. That makes me feel part of humanity. One of the many reasons I wrote the book was to not feel alone with the illness.
It was especially fun to read excerpts from the book to a bunch of interns and doctors at the Medical College of Wisconsin (in 2006). They were very responsive, asked great questions and shared at a very personal level. I loved that.
Don’t know if the website mentions this but originally, Adult Onset Stills was thought to be a grown-up version of Juvenile Arthritis. Thus the “Adult” part of the term.
And, re: the lightness and ease: I’d say the ability to deal with the illness lightly comes in part from having been well for so long. But also, humor, even dark humor, has sometimes lifted me when nothing else could. I had this button I put on my hospital gown during week 3 in the hospital that said “Excuse me but I have to scream now.” None of the medical people found it amusing but I did.
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By the way, for anyone who’d like to catch the show, my episode “Inflamed,” is piggy-backed with another episode called “Rash Decision,” and that title is the one to look for on the TV listing. The “Inflamed” title isn’t listed by itself.
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Yes, Jude, I did read that the part about this being connected to Juvenile Arthritis. What I didn’t understand, though, was how Still’s Disease might be different, in symptoms and other ways, from arthritis in adults.
I am curious how it is that the doctors who came up with that diagnosis managed to do so.
A few years back, Jim had some pretty severe stomach ailments, and he went through a lot of testing. I remember at one point the doctor thought he might have Crohn’s Disease, an inflammatory bowel disease almost indistinguishable from ulcerative colitis. Anyway, while we waiting for a firm diagnosis, we looked it up and were pretty horrified by the prognosis and common treatments, including removing damaged portions of the intestine.
Well, it was sobering to think about living with that chronic illness. You can imagine our relief when we found out that Jim had a gluten allergy and not Crohn’s afterall.
I did want to ask you, what is your prognosis now? I read that the disease goes into remission. Do you have any insights as to what might have triggered the relapses?
Also, love your button. 8)
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Bob – Thank you thank you for your warm, unwavering support, during the DVD viewing, and after. And now.
Thank you. You help me keep going.
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Ybonesy – my understanding of the “adult” part of the AOSD term is that when these symptoms occur in a child they call it Juvenile Arthritis and when they occur in an adult it’s Adult Onset Stills, named after Dr. Stills who first labeled it.
As I understand it, the diagnosis is one of elimination. By the time my doctor first suggested AOSD, I’d been in the hospital for a week and they’d been drawing blood every time my fever spiked, which was 3-4 times daily. They’d checked for just about everything, including cancer, vaculitis, and other dire things. Funny that the doctor who first suggested it might be Stills was the very doc mentioned in the essay who now doesn’t believe it was Stills. Three other doc’s suggested the Stills diagnosis when I had my first big relapse (1997). That relapse is a story onto itself but briefly, it came three months after my hysterectomy and was no doubt triggered by hormonal shifts and the stress of the surgery. I got the high fever and rash very suddenly, but the drug Prednisone kept the symptoms suppressed and I was able to keep working and doing my life as usual (I also was high as a kite from the drug and in that state-of-mind, went to Santa Fe with my then-19 year old daughter where we both got tattoos) I had to stay on the drug for 6 months.
Between the first bout of the illness (1990), and the relapse, I was terrified about getting sick again. Got very rigid about sleep and food. Worried a lot. The relapse, funnily enough, was a relief. I got sick, the prednisone controlled it and it was no big deal. Now, mostly I don’t think about it. I do get what I call mini-flare-ups now and then – never sure why – but nothing worse than fatigue and difficulty concentrating, sometimes low fever. Like fibromyalgia. I just need to rest a day or two and then I’m fine.
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ybonesy – lucky thing your husband doesn’t have Crohns. It’s a scary bad illness. My brother had Crohns and it ran his life for several decades until he was in his late 40’s and the disease began to die out. Now, at 64, he has no symptoms at all.
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Jude! I’m amazed by your openness and bravery that baring your story on tv must have required. But, isn’t that what makes memoir so powerful, too? The REALity of our stories is what compels me to read on and want more.
I’m now chomping at the bit to read Fever in its published (soon to be) fabulous form. However, I found myself angry at the omission of your forthcoming book from the episode. And, what a mysterious turn to find out your physician disagrees now with the diagnosis!
I was drawn to what you said about writing to feel less alone and as a way to make meaning. It fuels the pages doesn’t it?
xo
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Ultimately, I think most writing is about wanting to be less alone.
And to create a sense of meaning out of chaos.
John Cheever told his daughter, “I write to make sense of my life.”
Anatole Broyard said, in his final memoir, Intoxicated by My Illness, “My initial experience of illness was as a series of disconnected shocks, and my first instinct was to try to bring it under control by turning it into a narrative. Always in emergencies we invent narratives….Storytelling seems to be a natural reaction to illness.”
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(I also was high as a kite from the drug and in that state-of-mind, went to Santa Fe with my then-19 year old daughter where we both got tattoos) Hmmmm….what tattoos did you each choose? 8)
I’m glad to see Laura commenting, as I thought about her book as well (LINK) as I was preparing your post, Jude. And I thought of the feedback she got from an agent about the glut of cancer memoirs (which hit home for me the pure business aspect of book selling). How did you pitch Fever? Any insights as to how the consultant you hired perhaps guided you in positioning that book proposal?
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Jude, thanks for writing with us on red Ravine. So great to see your piece here. You are brave to share the details of your story, especially on TV. That probably would have terrified me. I’m just catching up on all the comments. Love that button, BTW!
I’m aware from reading your piece how this has been something you’ve been dealing with off and on since 1979. A long, long time. It reminds me, too, of my brother’s journey, first with Crohn’s disease, and then he’s had two liver transplants. It can really take a toll on spouses and family, especially children. I’m wondering, were there places your kids turned for support through all this and when you were trying to figure out what was going on? How did your family deal with it?
Some of my other questions have been asked and answered in this thread. I was struck by how you once would have said people could cure diseases like this by changing to more healthy ways of living. But after the relapse, you realized that what worked was a combination of Eastern and Western medicine. I had a friend who was battling cancer and tried Eastern medicine first, then moved to Western in the end. That was about 20 years ago. It seems like the combination of Eastern and Western is becoming more and more prevalent these days.
I have one other question, along the lines of ybonesy’s – about the writing of your book and the class you took at The Loft. Can you share some of the things you learned in that class? Maybe a few key points that have worked for you. Might be helpful to our readers.
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I actually had two publishing consultants- both recommended that I include Mystery ER in my cover letter, which I did. They also thought that although one usually waits until a book is finished to pitch it to an agent, I should go ahead and send the proposals out around the time that Mystery ER debuted, even though the last third of the book isn’t in final form yet. “Memoirs,” I was told, “are very marketable these days.” One of the consultants also cautioned that despite the fact that Fever of Unknown Origin was well-written (his words- thank you, Scott), it was going to be hard to sell. The Mystery ER event would catch an agent’s attention and would give me better odds, but to quote Scott, “it’s a crap shoot, totally unpredictable.” In his opinion, the publishing world is in chaos right now. Too many books, too little time, everyone scrambling to make a buck, little concern for quality writing. According to Scott.
Tattoos – I wrote a short story about that adventure. My daughter, Jessie’s, tattoo is lovely. Two fish, one green, one blue, in a yin-yang design on the small of her back. Mine was (note the past tense) a medicine bear, black with a green arrow running through it, on my right ankle. It wasn’t well done – too big and blobby. I’ve had 20 lazer treatments to mostly erase it. Now I call it the ghost bear. There is a shadow of it left on my ankle.
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QuoinMonkey- yes, illnesses like this are hard on kids. My daughter and stepdaughter were 12 and 11, my son was 18 months when I spent half the summer in the hospital. I think it affected my son deeply. He searched for me around the house, saying “find mommy?” over and over but after a while he gave up and attached himself to his babysitter. When she would bring him to visit me in the hospital he’d treat me like a stranger. It took months for him to re-attach to me. Made me very sad. Then once re-attached, he over-attached and was over-attached for years.
My daughter insisted at the time that she was just fine. Wouldn’t discuss it further. She was – and is – a very independent person. Years later (she’s 30 now) she told me that she remembers that summer as the time the house fell apart and there was no one really running anything, no secure base. I think it shook her,on some level, until she left home for college.
My step-daughter seemed to weather it pretty well but I’m sure the loss of a stable household affected her, too.
My husband worked hard to be upbeat and to not let me know how scared he was. Took him a year before he broke down and cried about nearly losing me. Before I got sick I’d have said that our family was very functional – but clearly, we weren’t good at talking through what everyone felt that summer. Every one of us has done their round of therapy since then, not necessarily about my illness, but about those years.
My parents, by the way, were both ill when I was, my mother with lymphoma and my dad entering the terminal stages of emphysema.
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Quoin – I assume your brother still has Crohn’s? Or has he, like my brother, been able to recover?
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Jessie’s tattoo sounds lovely. I have a pair of plastic boots, Wellies, that are white with green and blue fish, koi carp. I love the image of the two fish intertwined.
Thanks for sharing the feedback from the consultant. I’m baffled by what sells and what doesn’t. I’ve seen a lot of what I think of as mass-market type memoir–flip and irreverent and not the least bit deep and way too superficial for my tastes (about shopping habits, for example).
Please keep us posted on the progress with the book proposal letters that you sent out. Do you have a method of organization in terms of keeping track of who you sent letters to and what their responses are? Also, I know writer friend seems to have a tiering approach, where she has a first-tier based on the agents’ or publishers’ having published similar books, and then a next tier for maybe the same genre, etc. It’s like moving from the center of concentric cirlces out to the edge. Just curious if you have thought about your approach in any similar fashion.
Also, QM, I didn’t know your brother had Crohn’s disease. Wow, he has gone through a lot, bless his heart.
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I sure hope I have my facts right about this, but if not, maybe he will correct me later. I’m pretty sure he had Crohn’s disease prior to the first liver transplant. It was a long time ago and that’s my memory. I remember us talking about it. I think he recovered from that but now has another disease (an acronym I can never remember) that scars his liver and wears it down. He’s very good with medical details and somehow keeps track of all this, along with names and timetables of a huge regimen of ongoing drugs he will have to take for the rest of his life. I’m in awe of his ability to weather these storms. He’s got a very strong spirit.
Jude, it’s amazing how strong and resilient kids can be, bless their hearts. They sure go through a lot. I’ve seen my niece and nephew (kids of my brother above) weather all of this over the years. And then last summer, when my other brother was in the ICU, I saw what a toll it took on my other two nephews. My heart goes out to the children and families. It sounds like you have all moved through it though, by therapy and learning how to talk about it with each other.
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Jude, this is an amazing story. What a journey you have been on. I wonder if at any time you began to think you were crazy in the sense that you had no diagnosis for a long time. I went through some very difficult years which began in my early 20’s & lasted into my early 30’s. No one it seemed could diagnos my problem. I was sent to a multitude of specialists. I had every test in the book. No diagnosis. I began to think I was imagining my symptoms & became discouraged. After moving to this area in 1979, I was sent to a very good medical center & was diagnosed after a few visits. I had endmetriosis, which eventually resulted in the first signs of endometrial cancer. I often wonder if I had been diagnosed sooner, how different my life would have been, but I am grateful for the great care, love, & support that I received.
I’ve never heard of AOSD until now. I hope you stay well.
As for the way we each handle a loved one’s illness, my husband is QM’s brother who was in the ICU this summer. The children each handled it in their own way. But, what I found out was that it brings families closer together. D
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diddy, glad you weighed in on this post. You really went through a lot with that in the 1970’s. And your comment reminds me how advances in medicine are going on all the time. If I remember correctly, in the 70’s endometriosis was just starting to be diagnosed in women. Is that your recollection, too? It seems like now it’s such a common diagnosis. But back then, hardly mentioned or known about. It has to be an awful feeling to be sick and have no one be able to diagnose what’s going on.
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Diddy – oh yes! I also had years of no one knowing what was wrong with me, when my symptoms were just fatigue, rash and low grade fever., before the summer of 1990 when I finally landed in the hospital. The illness started when I left my first marriage; I moved out with a 1 year old baby. I was self-employed and really couldn’t afford to be sick. On the days I felt less sick, I feared I’d imagined my symptoms; I also hoped I’d been imagining. But,man, I remember some nights when I’d lie in bed with the reality sinking in, that I was truly sick, and feel certain I was dying. Then the next day I’d be back to thinking I was losing my mind. It was a terrible time. There was some relief in eventually getting a diagnosis. I, too, eventually went to a great medical center, Cleveland Clinic, to get my diagnosis confirmed.
Are you well now, Diddy?
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Ybonesy – re: the proposals: I sent 11, got 7 rejections within a few weeks, some of them with kind, encouraging notes on them, some just form letters. One agent asked for more chapters but after reading them, she decided the book isn’t for her. I have 3 proposals still out there. This was just a first run. I’ll be doing other mailings after I spruce up the proposal a bit. I like the tier idea. I think I’ll do that, too. My first bunch of agents were somewhat arbitrarily picked, once I’d ascertained that all were willing to read new manuscripts and had represented memoir in the past. OUt of that group, I let my intuition select 11.
So far, with only 11 proposals sent, my record keeping is easy. I keep a list of who I’ve sent to and when and what their reply was on a simple word document on my computer.
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Jude, thanks! I am fine now. QM is correct in that in the 70’s endometriosis was mostly unheard of. My thanks go to Hershey Medical Center & Dr. Virginia Hall. She now teaches at the medical center & I truly owe her alot. She saw me through many surgeries & was concerned about how every surgery would affect me. I had one of the first D & C’s done in her office. Her reasoning? “D, you’ve had worse menstrual cramps than you will feel here today. Why undergo anesthesia?” She was right! Bless her. She gave me back the sanity I knew I had. In my heart I knew I was ill, but the years of testing this and that had taken their toll on me. I thought I had lost my mind. D
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Jude, thanks again for writing with us on red Ravine. And sharing your story. It’s been such a pleasure. I look forward to your book coming out. Please keep us posted! Also, would love to hear more about your poetry group as things progress.
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Ditto, Jude, from me. I love looking at these photos, btw. I’m so glad you captured the shots. They added a lot to the story, and every time I see the one of the actor playing your mother, I smile.
Do keep us posted on the progress with the book. Your insights into what has transpired so far with the letters from certain agents and publishers and such, that’s all been very useful. Thank you for being so candid and sharing that with us and our readers.
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I hope you are feeling better. I was hospitalized in sept for 10 days, etremely high fevers, joint pain, dangerously high liver enzymes, swollen glands, red spotted rash. I left the hospital without a diagnosis. For the past 3 months I have done my own leg work, on the internet for hours, I finally nailed it on the head recently. My family doctor (who is practically useless is referring me. You can find my blog on wordpress by searching Stills disease. My name on the blog is CSong Chronicle. My constant question is does every body get returning flare ups each night like I do?? I hope you continue to feel better.
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So Csong, you have STills, too, do you think? Sure sounds similar.
Thanks for the good wishes. I will check out the Stills blog, if I can find it.
The info I have on Stills comes partly through the International Still’s Foundation. Once I got diagnosed, I too did a lot of the legwork of researching the details. I needed to have a prognosis. I created my own. Things have turned out better than I’d ever hoped. I, too, hope to continue to be well. It will never be certain. But then, no one can ever be certain they’ll stay well.
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Jude dropped me and QM a note letting us know that “Inflamed” is due to run again on Dec 22, in the evening, 8 pm EST. The title of the show is Rash Decision, and Jude’s story is the second of two half-hour episodes under that title.
Watch for it! (And thanks, Jude, for letting us know.)
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Hey Jude: I’ve always wanted to say that. I saw the episode of Mystery ER last night. Your story sounds so similar to mine. I’ve been sick for 5 yrs., without a firm diagnoses. Fibromyalgia. I’m wondering what kind of lyme test they done on you. The lyme testing is often unrealiable, has a high rate of false negatives and can mimic many other illnesses. Just a thought. I’m going to read up on your illness to see if my dr., has tested me for the ‘stills.’ Best of luck. Meli
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[…] Mystery E.R. by Judith Ford […]
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[…] about Topic post WRITING TOPIC — DOOR. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include Mystery E.R. and a writing group practice I Write […]
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[…] first guest writer, with her 25 Reasons I Write post. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include Mystery E.R., I Write Because, and PRACTICE – Door – […]
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[…] with the piece 25 Reasons I Write. Judith’s other pieces on red Ravine include lang•widge, Mystery E.R., I Write Because, and PRACTICE – Door – 20min. Spring Cleaning is based on a 15 minute Writing […]
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