🩺 The Tea on My Health Journey (Spoiler: It's Been a Lot)

Oh, my sweet foxetts. 🦊

I've been sitting on this update for a while now, trying to find the right words. The right energy. The right moment when I wasn't actively icing my chest or arguing with an insurance rep who clearly skipped empathy training. But here's the thing about chronic illness – there's never a perfect moment. So here we are, messy and real and probably a little too caffeinated. Although would you believe that I the first coffee I've had all year was last week? No, I'm not mad I've instead moved over to chai ☕

Let's rewind to December. That's when I kicked off what I now lovingly refer to as "The Great Medical Gauntlet of 2025." Appointments. Referrals. Physical therapy. Pain management. More appointments. Rinse, repeat, lose your mind a little. 💫

The goal? Simple. A diagnosis would be lovely. But honestly? I'd settle for just less pain. I'd settle for a life that feels fuller than a waiting room chair.

🧠 The Mental Health Catch-22

Here's where things get spicy in the worst way. 🌶️

I can't talk to my doctors about mental health. Not really. Because anything that goes into military medical records could affect deployment opportunities for both Mr. F and me. Depression? Delete attempts? Those are automatic disqualifiers for overseas listings. So imagine navigating chronic pain, medical gaslighting, and a body that's actively betraying you – all while keeping a smile plastered on because the alternative could cost us our future.

That cycle? It made everything worse. Shocking, I know.

🏥 The Diagnosis Dance

Let me introduce you to my main character: hEDS – Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.

It's a connective tissue disorder, which sounds niche and fancy, but here's what it actually means:

• I'm bendy in ways that aren't cute 🦊

• My organs are affected (hello, pericarditis since childhood)

• My joints scream constantly

• Chronic fatigue is my permanent roommate

• And it devours my estrogen like it's a midnight snack

Which brings me to the next layer of this onion...

🩸 Perimenopause, PMDD & The Hormone Heist

It took six months to get a doctor to believe I have perimenopause and PMDD. Six months of ticking 9 out of 10 symptom boxes while they hyper-fixated on the one box I couldn't tick: "When did you last bleed?"

The answer? More than 12 ears ago. And I've also had tubal ligation and uterine ablasion since then because my periods (blood was absent) were so painful I took the surgical route.

But apparently that math is too complicated. And there "isn't enough research" on what happens after the procedure. So instead of treating me, they tested me for Lyme disease. Seven times. SEVEN. 💀

I've also been checked for meningitis seven times. Because apparently the filing system is optional and "I already got tested for that" translates to "please ignore me harder."

And my personal favorite suggestion? Yoga. 🧘‍♀️

I wish I was joking.

💊 HRT: A Blessing & A Curse

When I finally got on HRT, the clouds parted. Brain fog? Lifted. Fatigue? Manageable. Migraines? Quiet. General pain? Softened.

But then my breasts decided to throw a rebellion. Two cup sizes in a short time. The swelling was astronomical. The pain? I was living with ice packs in my bra, couldn't lie down, couldn't work. Multiple infections led to getting them drained, which came with its own nightmare recovery. 🧊

So I had to come off HRT. Wait a month for it to leave my system. And then? Full-blown migraines, nerve pain, all the greatest hits – while sporting double Ds that I did not ask for.

🦴 The Subfluxation Situation

My hEDS has also been causing subfluxations – partial dislocations. My hips keep popping out, which is exactly as painful as it sounds. It's caused a shift in my SI joint, and I've been in 24/7 pain for over a month now. Sitting hurts. Standing hurts. Existing hurts.

💉 The Botox Saga (A Comedy of Errors, Except Not Funny)

I had a neurologist. A lovely one. She was ready to give me Botox, try medications, explore procedures – actually help me with these migraines that make my brain feel like it's bleeding fire. 🔥

But first? The insurance gauntlet.

They said it wasn't covered. We pushed back. Called. Called again. Showed them their own website where it clearly states they approve it if criteria is met. And baby, I far exceed the criteria.

They agreed.

Then the hospital pushed back. I had to pick up the medication and store it. Fine. I'll do it. Whatever it takes.

Then the pharmacy entered the chat. For five months, they've been playing ping-pong with my sanity:

• "You're not approved.."

• "Your insurance isn't approved."

• "We can't find your file."

• "We found your file but the doctor isn't approved."

• "The doctor is approved now but they have to file a buy and bill."

• Ten more excuses I've blocked out for self-preservation.

Until finally: "No. You have to go through another pharmacy."

I tried two more pharmacies. My doctor has never seen this happen before. Our insurance doesn't know what's happening now. And I might genuinely not survive another phone call. 📞💀

And now? I'm no longer insured to see that doctor anyway. Because of the hospital she works in. The one my insurance dropped.

So the migraines with aura? Who knows. Who the hell knows.

🚫 The Insurance Plot Twist

And now for the latest gut punch: my insurance is no longer covering the hospital where all my appointments were scheduled. Every single one I've waited 6+ months for – CTs, MRIs, physical therapy, rheumatology, cardiology, neurology, ortho – cancelled. Gone.

I have to start from scratch. New referrals. New wait lists. More emergency room visits. More expenses.

How is this legal? How is this normal in the United States? I'll never understand. 💔

Oh, and yesterday? The military lost both mine and Mr. F's medical records. Because of course they did. Just one more thing to chase.

♿ Learning to Say It: Chronically Disabled

I'm still working as much as I can, so don't think you're rid of me yet. 😘

But I have to be honest about something I've been processing: I've come to the difficult conclusion that I am now chronically disabled. And I'm learning the hard way exactly how society views disabled people.

Doctors do not care how much pain you're in. They don't care if you're physically incapable of working. They don't care if this is destroying your sex life, your relationships, your ability to simply exist comfortably. You're a chart. A checklist. A problem to shuffle to the next department. 🩺

I've also noticed something with fans. Some get squirmy when I answer honestly about how I'm doing. The truth makes people uncomfortable. So let me be clear about something that every chronic pain sufferer desperately wants you to know:

Chronic means all the time. Whether we let you see it or not.

From experience, it's incredibly hard to respond when someone says, "You're posting more, you must be feeling better!" or "Glad you're feeling better!" – because it's a statement posed as truth, but it isn't. And it puts me in an impossible position. Do I just agree so the conversation moves on? Or do I make it awkward with the reality: "No, my brain and joints feel like they're bleeding and on fire. Actually, I'm posting more because if I don't, I'll go bankrupt." 💔

So here's the reality I'm living:

• I will have hEDS for the rest of my life. It will likely get worse. There is no cure. And getting pain management in America has proven to be a nightmare.

• I will be in perimenopause for at least another 15 years, and I have to hope I find a medication that actually works without destroying my body in the process.

• And the migraines with aura? Well... who knows.

I'm still here. Still fighting. Still showing up however I can. But I needed you to know the truth – the whole messy, painful, unglamorous truth. Because pretending it's prettier than it is doesn't serve anyone. 🌡️

🌱 Finding Light Where I Can

Despite all of this, I've kept my promise to myself: lean into volunteer work when my body allows.

I'm still showing up at gleans. Still helping with drop-offs at food shelters. Still supporting local rallies and protests. Still finding small businesses to uplift on social media. These moments remind me that I'm more than my medical chart. More than my pain levels. More than this broken system.

✨ The Silver Lining

I have a big announcement. Genuinely happy news. But I'm saving it for next week's update. If you're following me on socials, you might already have some hints... 🤫😈

To everyone who's checked in, sent love, or just quietly rooted for me – thank you. I write these updates when I'm able so you don't worry. I'm just tired. Or ill. Or both. But I'm still here. Still fighting. Still finding reasons to smile.

Drop a 🦊 in the comments if you're still with me on this wild ride. And tell me – what's something good that happened in your world this week? I'd love to hear it.

All my love,

Scarlett 💌