Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - Epilogue: MCAS and Moving Forward

written 4-18-26

It’s been three years since I touched “my book”. I haven’t had the courage, or sometimes the energy, to pursue publishing what you’ve read so far. But two weeks ago, my great physical therapist from 2023, with whom I previously shared my rough draft, reached out. He had another patient like me with a “quirky nervous system” and wanted to know if I ever finished the book and would I be willing to share?

Of course, yes, I want to help. I always said I wanted to use my challenges for good, but…am I ready to release control of this book from its current place of safety on my computer? What will people think of me? Do I shrink back in fear, following a pattern of people pleasing I’m just beginning to overcome, or do I take a risk and release it?

It’s funny, because the last few years have already had an element of risk and uncertainty. As stated earlier in the book, I went part time in 2023 to recover from professional burnout. Within a year I pursued a passion in human health and nutrition by completing a health coaching certification, and I started a health coaching business on the side. I wanted to take all the years I struggled with my health, reading the latest health books and reviewing the research, for good. I’d even started a small website to share healthy recipes. I wanted to pass on what I’d learned.

Encouraged by the results of a family member I worked with – who excitedly shared her improved A1C, cholesterol levels and weight after a doctor’s visit, I felt confident I was on the right path. This path would allow me to pursue both passions - continue to work with pets in the clinic, while more directly impacting human lives as a health coach. I’d long observed in my career that the health of pets and their people were intricately linked. When people feel better they’re more likely to walk the dog. When they eat better, they’re more likely to consider what they’re feeding their pet. When they prioritize their own health check-ups, they’re more likely to schedule vet visits and catch problems with their pet earlier, while they’re treatable. Since food is so foundational to health, it was one way to give back to people, and indirectly to my canine and feline patients.

I poured my heart, time and energy into the coaching business. Many power point presentations were made to prepare for seminars and one-on-one coaching with clients. Countless hours were spent on my website, branding, LLC, etc. A mental health professional even asked to add me to his team, acting as a consultant in the nutrition and herbs/supplement space. Finally, all my efforts and perseverance through the years were paying off! I would be able to use all my health challenges and hard-fought knowledge for good!

Here’s where it gets funny. To grow the coaching business, I rallied my confidence and drove all over town to advertise my first healthy eating seminar, only for no one to sign up. I regrouped, recognized that the first location was not ideal and decided to make the second one completely free…only for a severe hurricane to hit our area days earlier, leaving many without power. Two people showed up, and I celebrated the win! Undeterred, I planned again and scheduled another free seminar months later…only for a rare snow/ice storm to hit our area and it get cancelled. You’d think I’d take these severe weather events as a sign, but I didn’t believe I was supposed to give up.

Then April 2025 hit. The veterinary clinic I had been working at for four years suddenly closed, without prior notice to its employees or its clients, and without severance or final pay. It was jarring, to say the least. The song that kept coming to mind, though, was a popular one on Christian radio at the time, about how the Lord will provide. And he did, as he always has in my life.

My prior clinic, now under new ownership, had an opening. When interviewing, I felt strongly like I was coming home. Home to a clinic and its team that I dearly loved. Since I would be working more hours and had not yet gotten the coaching business off the ground, I knew it was time to put coaching on the back burner. Thankful for the opportunity to return to the vet clinic, I openly shared with the new owner that I’d faced some health challenges from Long Covid (POTS), but that it hadn’t been an issue for a while.

And I meant those words when I said them…but it wouldn’t last.

Over the next six months new symptoms would appear. A resurgence of heart rate and blood pressure spikes, three presyncope (almost passing out) episodes, intermittent crushing fatigue, new food sensitivities (one episode with a rash and acute mood crash), and more. After ten years of health challenges, I thought for sure I’d be done by now. Yet over and over again, God keeps my god of the pursuit of perfect health always out of reach, making me look to him for my security. It is my “thorn in the flesh” from 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. (More on the latest health issue in a moment.) 

In this New Testament passage, Paul references a medical condition that God allowed, despite Paul’s many prayers to take it away. This condition kept him grounded, kept his pride at bay, and kept him leaning in to God for guidance and comfort. The actual malady is never explicitly named. So when I first heard this passage as a kid with a very literal mind, I pictured a literal large thorn poking into the poor man’s torso. Church was a safe space back then, and I remember eliciting good-hearted chuckles when sharing with my youth group friends once I realized the thorn was figurative (although I didn’t use that word, of course).

As the years went by since childhood, God was still safe, but his people felt far less so. The church of my childhood was lively, welcoming, with great worship music, and lots of friends my and my parents’ ages for connection and accountability. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, because we and other humans filled it. But It felt like a second home in a lot of ways. I recognize that it was the 90s and times have changed, but I still remember church members showing up to one’s house unannounced. They’d heard someone was sick and brought over a casserole. Or the house phone would ring and it was part of a prayer chain because someone was in the hospital. 

In recent years, David and I had searched for our church home and hadn’t quite found the right fit. In truth, I was a large part of the problem. Perhaps for fear of being controlled once more by those I trusted spiritually, I’ve had reservations. 

For nearly two years we attended a church that seemed like it would become our church. It had in depth Bible preaching we appreciated, many activities, they gave back to the community, and we’d made a few friends. However, when we sought out church membership and heard of the requirements, something in me shifted. Instead of the brief membership process I’d seen at other churches, this church required four months of weekly, lengthy bible study classes. There was often an emphasis on submission to the authority of church leadership and on recognition of our lowly position as servants within the larger church. At the end of the four months, you would interview with a pastor, and they had the power to approve or deny membership.

With reservations, we started the membership class. Prior to doing so, I shared with a leader that the weekday on which classes were held would be quite challenging to attend due to work; would missing some weeks prevent me from membership at the end? I was advised to ask my boss if I could change my work schedule. 

Changing my work schedule was neither realistic nor feasible. In fact, this was one of the busiest times in our vet clinic, and vet work isn’t usually over when the business hours end. This was also the time my latest health challenges came to a head. So here I was again, same old story. A new health challenge forcing me to take an inventory of my mental and physical wellbeing.

During this time, I found myself sitting across from my primary care doctor, telling him about the latest health concerns. It’s been a long-held fear of mine that I won’t be taken seriously when I don’t “look” sick. I tend to downplay concerns, because I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining (I know many people have it worse), or come across like a hypochondriac, nor do I want it to be brushed off as “just anxiety”. I shared about the heart rate and blood pressure spikes, the episodes of tunnel vision when I felt I would almost pass out, headaches, fatigue, and a frequent physical sensation of anxiety when I did not feel anxious in my mind. I was grateful that he took me seriously and started me on a medication to help. (Even if, despite my fatigue and calm interaction, he listed my demeanor as “anxious”.)  This began a 3+ month process of numerous medication adjustments, some making me feel worse and triggering new food sensitivities, constant pivoting and frequent ups and downs. I also added an amazing nurse practitioner to my care team and, voila! She saw past what looked like “anxiety” and discovered one more piece of the puzzle.

Many people with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) also have hypermobility (check! relates to my knee pain and frequent gym injuries) and…Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS), the new puzzle piece. These conditions aren’t psychological in origin. That being said, I strongly suspect that my years of emotional abuse “primed” my nervous system to over-react. POTS and MCAS are disorders of the autonomic nervous system, which is responsible for involuntary/“automatic” bodily functions, such as breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure. It also balances “fight or flight” with “rest and digest”. While the years of emotional abuse probably rewired my brain and left it vulnerable, my focus has been on circling back to the theme of forgiveness, which is healing.

So where did all this leave me (and David), regarding membership at the church we were attending? Could it be contributing to the POTS/MCAS symptoms, which don’t originate in but are exacerbated by stress? Yes. 

The repeated theme of submission to spiritual authority brought up some serious baggage from my past, including frequent bad dreams. I had escaped control once and had an almost visceral response to the idea of being controlled again. My “fight or flight” response was on high alert. 

That church has done so much good for the community and we know wonderful people that attend there. But did it feel “safe” to me, given my background? No.  

If conversion disorder/mind-body syndrome is a dissonance between what we need to accept or do and what we’re currently willing to accept or do, I had a choice to make to minimize symptoms. It’s okay if that church is good for other people, but it wasn’t for me (or David, who had similar feelings as me), and we had to move on.

It’s surprising how emotionally freeing it was the first Sunday we attended our new church, and how soon my physical wellbeing improved, as well. It felt like “home”, where I could fully be me, flaws and all. We were met by a genuinely welcoming congregation and a pastor who preaches from a place of humility and curiosity, like he knows he’s still a work in progress. 

I am still a work in progress myself. I’ve learned so much along this journey. 

It’s been ten years since my back pain first began, with which this book opened. It also marks ten years since I married my dear David. He’s been so good to me; I am thankful for him every day. We’ve been married long enough now that we’ve walked through some valleys, but we’ve also stood on mountain tops, some literal! God didn’t have to heal me and restore my ability to walk at age thirty four. But he did, and I am forever grateful. 

Our hallway contains a “gratitude wall” of hiking trip pictures to remind us of how fortunate we are. Last year we added a picture from Rocky Mountain National Park, our hardest trail yet! Hiking with David is one of the greatest joys of my life. It’s why for the cover of this book I chose an earlier photo from Zion National Park, the first hiking trip we took after I was healed.

So there it is. I took a risk and shared my story. May it bring hope. Wherever you are along this journey, don’t give up. 

If you have symptoms that doctors can’t explain, ask yourself:

Is there a truth I am unwilling to accept?

Is there a change(s) I am unwilling to make?