A fight I can't win?

For the last three days, I've felt like complete crap. The temps haven't gone above 101.8 but the lowest they've gotten--even with taking those horse pills of IBU the dr gave me--is 99.8. I hurt everywhere. I'm exhausted. And I just want to cry. I don't know how long it will last. I don't know how bad it will get. I don't even know much about the silly disease eating away at me. Little by little, it’s as though the hope seems to fade. Like I'll never have a normal life. A husband that chose me knowing what I have. Having kids and being able to play with them and enjoy their childhood. My family is awesome. They're supportive. They love me. But they don't understand. Granted, that hypothetical husband isn't going to understand it much better. It's just so hard going through the day to day, knowing things can only get worse. That it will get worse. Unless some brilliant Dr. or researcher comes up with some miracle cure of the unknown, things will only decline with time. Unless God decides to heal me, I'm looking at being stuck with this for the rest of my life. I know He can do it. Nothing is impossible with God. I know that. I believe that. I just know and understand that he doesn’t have to. This is the life he gave me. I don't understand why, I don't know how he will choose to use it. But I know it’s a part of his plan for my life. Knowing that, doesn’t make it any easier.

I try to seem normal. I try not to complain. I try not to whine. But sometimes I just feel so horrible I want to do nothing but sleep and wait for it to be over. For the last three days, I've gotten up and gone to work. I've been popping IBU on cue every four hours. I've been checking my temp--when no one is looking--and at the end of the day, I go home and crash. I crank up the electric blanket watch some TV for a couple of hours--till that last dose of IBU--and go to bed. Usually before 9:00. I go to sleep with a temp, I wake up with a temp. I go through my day, trying not to overdo it, knowing it’s too late and trying to act as normal as possible. I made a couple random comments about not feeling that well this morning--as two good friends and coworkers helped me put together my new desk. I got a sub for nursery Wednesday night. My mom hasn't said much about the extra sleep, it never really seems to feel that she understands how bad it is. And I know that’s my fault. I don't talk about it until I can't handle it anymore. When all I can do is go to bed and sleep. It seems like it came out of nowhere. Sometimes it does. Unless you have MCTD or something ridiculously similar--you can't understand what its like. It’s not your grandma's arthritis pain. It’s not like the flu. It slowly sucks everything out of you, and feels like it'll never stop.
I don't talk about it for a variety of reasons. People not being able to understand it is only one of them. I don't want to be a statistic--it’s a rather low number, being it's a rare condition--but I don't want to be a number. I don't want to be remembered as the sick girl. I don't want people's pity. I don't want to admit defeat. I won't let myself give up. I won't let this disease take my future--whatever it may hold. I won't let it hold me back from what God has for me. What I know can happen. I'm fighting--everyday--to feel like I belong, like I fit in. Like I'm normal. I'm fighting back. I am a person with a personality that, while shaped by my disease, is independent of it. I have goals and dreams and hope that I'm not ready--and very unwilling--to let go of. I won't let the disease rob me of a sense of life, feeling of fulfillment, or let it stop me from succeeding. So, I get up everyday, and I fight back. It may be a fight I never win, but I still try. Because if you give up the fight, you're letting go of hope. And I refuse to believe that this is it. God has more in store for my life than this. He's promised never to give us more than we can bear. It’s not something we can do on our own. It takes a strength that only he can provide, sometimes he carries us along. But he hasn’t forgotten me. He's there--I know it, I believe it, I can feel it. So I'm trudging along, knowing it will get better. Hoping for tomorrow. Waiting for His plan, and my own happy ending whatever it may hold.