Sooo…. yeah, you haven’t seen much of me lately. This post will explain why. I feel that so many of you are my friends, and you share the good and the not-so-good with friends, right?
Some of you know that the last 18 months have been a struggle for me. The doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was able to exercise*, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Even reading was a challenge. I tried and tried to write, but the pages I composed weren’t even worthy of the compost bin. There were other weird symptoms that I won’t bore you with. Bottom line? I was confused and tired and scared and sad. And sick.
Everything came to a head at the ALAN conference in Chicago last November. I hadn’t been feeling great that afternoon, but assumed I was picking up one of those conference viruses. All I had to do was to give the Monday keynote speech and then I could crawl off to my hotel room.
Two seconds into the speech I knew I was in trouble. The room started to close in on me and everything turned gray. I sat down, sipped water, and tried to keep going. Not. Possible. Gary Salver (who is a super-nice guy to have around when you are passing out in front of hundreds of teachers) helped me lie down. Other friendly people raised my legs, put a cloth on my head, and made those soft, worried noises you usually hear coming from the mouths of frowning grandmothers.
Laying down with my feet up made me feel better. Not good enough to dance, mind you, but good enough to try and finish my speech**. So I asked for the microphone and I gave the rest of my presentation on the floor. Because I am from the North Country and unless you are spurting blood from an artery up here, you get the job done before you pass out.
This is what it looked like. (If you watch the entire video you won’t see me (thank heavens!), but you will get to hear a small portion of my speech.)
I finished the speech. The very patient and generous audience clapped. I crawled to a sitting position and asked the audience not to tell my husband what had just transpired.
And then I crashed. Big Time.
I don’t remember much of the next few hours. They took me by ambulance to the ER at Mercy Hospital. The hospital report says I didn’t really have a blood pressure reading, but whatever the docs did fixed that. After a couple of hours of treatment, I was good enough to be released. (This meant that instead of feeling like I was dead, I was simply wishing that I would die.) Thanks to Scottie Bowditch, of Penguin, and lots of behind-the-scenes work by the good people at Macmillan and Simon & Schuster, I had a place to stay that night and was very well taken care of.
I didn’t make it home for another 48 hours. Even then, I wasn’t what you call “healthy.” Our Thanksgiving plans were cancelled and the day after Thanksgiving, I dragged myself to the doctor’s. There have been several consults and tests since then. Clearly I had a bout of food poisoning in Chicago. But there was something other than food poisoning at work.
The votes have now been tallied….and… ::pauses for drum roll…
The docs say I have Addison’s disease, also known as adrenal insufficiency, likely caused by an autoimmune attack.
Doesn’t that sound Victorian? I was hoping that it meant I had permission to wear hats like this
and gloves like this
But alas, this does not appear to be the case.
There is more good news than bad in this diagnosis. 1. This condition is slightly life-altering, but not life threatening, if I take my medicine and follow doctor’s orders. 2. That medicine TOTALLY makes me feel better. It replaces the chemicals that my body doesn’t make anymore, so there are few side effects. 3. The medicine is helping my brain work again. 4. There are very few things about my life that have to change as a result of this diagnosis.
It seems like I will still be able to travel and give speeches (standing up!), though my book tours will probably not be as intense as they’ve been in the past, and I’m not allowed to travel abroad without a companion. I can still run and swim and chop wood. In fact, the healthier and stronger I am, the better I’ll be able to cope with crisis situations, like the one that occurred in Chicago.
I’m going to be around for a long time, writing books, pestering my family, tweeting and blogging, racking up overdue library book fines, and eating superhuman amounts of popcorn for a very long time. But – BIG CONFESSION HERE – I am woefully behind on my next two books, ASHES and The YA That Shall Be Named Later. In fact, I can’t say for certain when they will be finished. (Soon, I hope!)
Can you forgive me?
I am back scribbling and having fun doing it. I won’t be blogging and tweeting quite as much as I was pre-Addison’s because I need that focus, energy, and time to go into the stories I’m working on. (Plus, two of our four kids are getting married in the next four months.) But don’t worry. I’m here. My characters are here. We’ve got enough wood to see us through this winter and spring will be here before you know it.
*Doctor’s explanation: all the running I’ve been doing helped me to survive both the Chicago collapse in 2011 and another collapse in 2010 that I won’t bore you with.
**Doctor’s explanation: my blood pressure was plummeting, but my adrenaline was cranked. As long as my feet were higher than my head, I was OK. When I tried to sit up, things got icky.
79 Comments
Only you can give a speech lying down and present a scary experience with such humor.take care of yourself…we can wait for the book!
I’m so sorry to hear about this, but glad the doctor figured it out and got you on medication. Take your time on the books. We’ll be waiting for them when you feel up to finishing them. Take care and follow your doctor’s orders!
Laurie, you are incredible!! I sure can picture you giving that speech lying down. Amazing.
So relieved you now have the diagnosis and a treatment plan. ANd I look forward to seeing you do some of that running and exercising at our gym. Sending you a hug and thanking you for the information. and the timing of your next book(s) is SO minor compared to getting you on track with this diagnosis/treatment/ and adjustment.
See you soon at the gym.
Deb
I’m glad your crisis is over and you have come through it, as only you could do. You are the only person I have ever heard of that gave a speech laying on the floor. Now I’m curious…are there any others out there?
We can wait for the books!!!! Take care of yourself…we will be here waiting for your next stroke of genius…
Any disease that impacts hour autoimmune system can be life changing. Just take your meds and get well and back to normal soon.
So glad you are OK, and you join famous company. I believe JFK had Addison’s disease, for most of his life, until they finally figured it out in his 30′s. The vigorous and atheletic Kennedys thought he was just their “thin, sickly child” before a correct diagnosis. Just look what he went on to accomplish! Looking forward to your next books, you are the picture of health – be well!
You’re in good company. JohnF Kennedy had Addison’s disease. I hope you get back to your old energy level soon, and maybe someday you can work this experience into a story.
Laurie…Oh my. But good deal that you have a diagnosis and know what you can do to take care of you. And start listening to your body even more…it has a voice that should be heard too. Love you. KimFisher
Glad to hear that the doctors figured out what it was and that you’re on meds to help you feel better. Thinking of you and sending good thoughts your way!
You are awesome. I think you SHOULD wear the Victorian hat and gloves. But not while chopping wood!
I was thrilled to hear you speak at the SCBWI California conference, and I’m so glad you’re feeling better. Since you are required to have a companion when traveling abroad, I hearby volunteer!
Xoxo
Laurie,
You know that all of us that LOVE your books would wait and wait and wait for the those books, just as long as you take care of yourself ! Glad you can still run and have a somewhat normal life (but really what is normal!- especially with 2 weddings in 1 year). Take care!
Ay ay ay. I’m beyond amazed that you continued with your presentation.
I’m very sorry you were struggling for all this time without knowing what was wrong, but thank goodness you now have a diagnosis and something that is treatable. Please take good care of yourself.
Good golly, Miss Molly. That was a too-close call. It’s hard to pay attention to what your body is trying to tell you when you can’t think. I want you to stay around a long time. Pester away. Please. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
So glad you’re OK! A speech on the floor before being taken away by ambulance. You have some interesting talents.
One of my best friends also has Addisons (she got very ill when she was in college 24 years ago and almost died before a doctor figured it out). She has lived a very normal life since then and just sees an endocrinologist as needed. And she carries her syringe of adrenalin everywhere she goes. Good luck–glad they diagnosed it for you and that you are back on your feet.
Laurie, you are amazing! Thank you for sharing your story with us. As your fans, we remain ever loyal. Take care of yourself, and we will read what you write, whenever it becomes available. I will now picture you working away wearing Victorian hats and gloves–which I definitely encourage. : ) You are MUCH in our thoughts. Hugs from Colorado!
Oh, Laurie. I am sorry. That seems like such a horrible experience to go through and it sounds like it could have been life threatening at first. I’m glad it no longer is and that you will be around for a long time. Good luck with your slight lifestyle change!
So glad that Addison’s is something you can live with without tons of life-alteration. (Wasn’t there speculation that Jane Austen had Addison’s? If so, you’re in fine company there.)
I had to smile at what you said about being from the North Country, because that description also fits my parents like a well-worn work-glove and my dad was just taken to the hospital today (by my mom, not an ambulance), with an irregular heartbeat. He’ll be fine, too, I figure.
Happy writing–may your words flow like a river.
Laurie, you are a one-in-a-million woman. You give, give, give when you work with schools and when you write. While we don’t want you to stop giving, we do want you to give what you can as you can. You have so much to say, but we want you to take care of yourself first. All the best, and feel 110%!
You are pure inspiration, Laurie! I’m so happy that you finally know what’s wrong, that you’re getting treatment, and that you’re starting to feel better. Trying to write (or even get out of bed) must have been nearly impossible. We all admire your strength and determination. Thank you for sharing your story with us.
Laurie,
So sorry you had to go through feeling so bad for a long time. But thrilled that you have a diagnosis and know what to do. The books can wait. We will wait. Be well.
Your fellow Hoya and AFSer from Georgia,
Margaret
So glad you got a helpful diagnosis! Just wanted to tell you I used your “Go forth laughing and disturb the universe” as a key to a family Christmas present. I put into an album that quote and all photos I could find of relatives laughing, having fun, enjoying life, playing. Everyone loved it. Thank you for the inspiration. I know that sentence was at the end of one of your presentations. Was it the one from the floor, I wonder? Bless you for your wisdom and fortitude.
Laurie,
I have been reading your blog and I must say that I really impressed! I am a full time worker going to grad school full time and I don’t think I could do half of the things you manage to do! Kudos to you! I was wondering if you think you will ever write a, fiction or nonfiction, book about Addison’s disease? Do you think you will use this experience in your life in order to writer a novel about the disease itself, a character that has just been diagnosed with it, or about several different characters that may not necessarily be diagnosed with it, but are affected by it through a family member or friend?
If I do use it, Ashley, it will probably be a while. I find that I need about a decade’s distance from most of the experiences that have wound up in my books. Sometimes more. The passage of time gives me much-needed perspective so that I can write about the emotions and aspects with a bit more nuance, instead of being weighted down by my personal reactions.
It’s amazing how you can still keep your sense of humor in the face of adversity. I am a new reader of your books and you are really an inspiration to young girls. You really seem to have it all: a wonderful career, family, and the support of your fans. I hope you continue to feel better and wish you the best.
I wish that there were something I could do for you! After having given us all that you have, it’s time for you to receive from your devotees. You must take care of yourself like a foundling on the doorstep. Have a real vacation, long and luxurious! Please wear a medical bracelet. Ask your friends to write to you, no begging allowed, as in; hurry-up-with-the-next-book-already!
I will send you prayers and healing light. Please receive them.
You are so beloved. Our national treasure. Take a lot of time for yourself.
I wish you perfect health.
Gillian
Hey Lady-you are one hell of a fighter! Yeah! You give that speech lying down-so proud of you.
Glad to hear you are feeling better-that’s the Laurie Halse Anderson I know. Good luck my dear with the writing. Yeah!! She’s back!!!!;)
Take care.