LINN — Timmy Wibberg, 41, of Linn, has battled illness and physical issues for a long time, with most interactions requiring an ambulance ride to the hospital. He’s currently at the University of Missouri Hospital in Columbia, and the scary part is the doctors aren’t sure exactly what’s wrong, so he’s taking his case to the Mayo Clinic.

“I started feeling sick. I get cellulitis infections in my leg like people get a common cough, cold, or headache,” he said. “When that happens, you know, normally, it comes on pretty strong, and it’ll happen quickly. I’ll gain 50 to 75 pounds in about three days, and swell up like a balloon.”

When that happens, it’s not just a matter of discomfort; it’s potentially life-threatening. “I gotta come to the hospital because by then it’s infected,” said Wibberg, whose latest stint has lasted more than 100 days. “I need IV antibiotics because my body is pill-resistant.”

Initial intake at the hospital can be a little challenging. “When I explain my situation, they look at me like I’m stupid,” said Wibberg, who takes diuretic medicine to reduce the fluid. “Then they watch me lose 75 pounds in four or five days, and they can’t believe it.”

In 2016, Wibberg was diagnosed with Castleman Disease (CD), a rare group of lymphoproliferative disorders characterized by enlarged lymph nodes with distinct microscopic features and a wide range of inflammatory symptoms and laboratory abnormalities.

In 2017, his doctors put him through chemotherapy, which is a difficult enough process to fight what they believed to be cancer. What made it worse was the fact that after he completed his treatment, the diagnosis changed.

“I’ve had every test done you can think of, and I seem to be showing signs of cancer, but they can’t figure out what exactly is going on,” said Wibberg.

During his recent development, Wibberg talked to his hematologist, who referred him to the Mayo Clinic. However, insurance became an issue, and his first request for an appointment was shut down.

Wibberg explained he had a private indemnity plan to augment Medicaid, Medicare disability insurance through the state of Missouri. That, however, was being seen as his primary coverage, which the Mayo Clinic did not accept.

“I had to cancel that and go back to the state’s insurance, and they agreed to see me,” said Wibberg, noting the turnaround time was fast.

The clinic called on Christmas Eve and asked to see him on Dec. 30.

Preparation for a 10-hour drive to Rochester, Minn., to see some of the best doctors in the world took quick planning. Wibberg needed a van, gas money, and accommodations.

“I did what I had to do,” said Wibberg, noting the trip cost $1,200. “I sold the truck I kept for a spare motor and transmission to raise quick cash. I basically gave it away.”

After staying at an Airbnb the first night, he discovered the Mayo Clinic was attached to a hotel, which made it easier.

Wibberg underwent a bone marrow biopsy for testing, which was not a pleasant experience. “The 10-hour ride after a bone marrow biopsy is not a good idea,” he quipped. “I didn’t have any sedation for my bone marrow biopsy to begin with, so it sucked.”

The procedure required doctors to insert a needle through his hip bone to deliver lidocaine, a numbing agent. “When they do that, you can feel it from your pinky toe all the way up into the back of your eye socket,” said Wibberg. “And it feels like somebody’s electrocuting you and tapping your bone. It’s the weirdest damn feeling you could ever imagine. They did that 10 or 15 times. I lost count. Once they get you numb, then they stick some kind of blade or something in there to bust your hip bone open to go in and get that bone marrow. I could feel pressure, and then he was against my bone, and he was like, ‘Alright, I’m gonna tap on your bone now,’ and I could feel him punching on it, and then all of a sudden, it felt like it punched through a soft spot. And then they took a sample. It takes everything you’ve got.”

Doctors also conducted a hair follicle test and a couple of blood draws. Additionally, Wibberg said he may need lymph-node testing done.

“I’ve had testing done here, but it doesn’t matter, because my case is advanced, so the testing I’ve done is basically useless,” said Wibberg.

Like many people dealing with chronic pain and illness, Wibberg maintains a positive attitude through even the worst days. “90% of the time, we’re circling the drain trying to figure out how to climb out, and that’s a tough place to live,” he said. “There are days that you just want to trade it all in, you know? But that does nothing but put a burden on the people who care about you. I could never commit myself to doing something like that just because of the agony it would put on everybody else.”

So, the alternative is to focus on the little things, the small joys that manifest. “The few good days when I get to do what I want to do are special,” Wibberg said, noting he enjoys fishing and hunting, and just being out in the community socializing with friends and family. “That keeps me going, but it’s a full-time job keeping a clear mind. I have a lot of support, and I keep in mind that everyone is battling something. We’re all in this together.”

Wibberg and his parents, Tom and Harriet, plan to return to the Mayo Clinic this week for a Jan. 16 appointment. “I’m trying not to create a financial struggle for my mom and dad,” said Wibberg. “I just need a little help to get back and forth so I can hopefully get this figured out. Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and accept the fact that you need help. Whether it’s just a prayer or a donation, I have no words for my gratefulness. I hope that I can give back in the future to help others as I’m being helped now. No one fights alone, and those words are hitting me hard.”

A GoFundMe account has been established to raise funds for travel and accommodations.

Visit https://www.facebook.com/TimWibberg for more information.