Wishing someone would tell me what to do

August 20, 2018

When I was a kid and I didn’t feel well, my mother would bring me a cool cloth for my forehead, some children’s Tylenol, juice, and toast. She took care of me. She told me to rest, to watch tv, to read a book. She told me if it was severe enough to go to the doctor. I didn’t have to think.

It’s not like that as an adult. Now I have to take care of myself. I have to remember to take the medicine, to rest or not, to buy juice at the store. Of course I miss having my mom take care of me when I’m sick, but mostly I manage those things ok. What I miss the most, though, is someone else telling me what to do. Making the big decisions.

Sure, I still struggle sometimes with when to take the Tylenol when I have a fever, but that’s not such a big deal. The harder piece is choosing which treatment approach to take with my chronic illnesses.

I have a long list of illnesses of course. And just when I think I know where to focus my attention, one of the supposedly not-so-important illnesses taps me on the shoulder, winks, and then pushes me down a flight of metaphorical stairs.

Like my PCOS. Everything seemed to be just fine, and then I got a period so heavy that my doctor told me to go to the emergency room due to the blood loss. Then I became depressed for several weeks as my hormones did wacky things. Not fun. I was already considering trying a new way to manage my PCOS, but that episode made it clear just how necessary a new plan was.

Now I have seen 4 medical practitioners who I trust a lot, and I have 4 potential treatment approaches. And I don’t like any of them. I desperately want someone else to tell me what to do.

You see, most people just take birth control pills and they’re fine. The problem for me is that birth control pills make me incredibly sick. Since those aren’t an option, I need to find something else. (Sometimes Metformin is prescribed. I tried this once and immediately had an allergic reaction, so that’s not an option, either.)

It’s easy to knock out 1 approach right now: the one I’ve already been doing. It worked great for many years but has recently become ineffective, so that has to go. But what about the other 3? They each seem reasonable, but which to try? Each of them has the potential to make me feel incredibly ill, so I’m not anxious to try any of them, but not doing anything isn’t an option. Each doctor makes an excellent case for each approach.

I will try one, and if I don’t immediately have horrible side effects, it will take months to know if it works. So it could take a year or more to find a treatment that works. If any of them do.

I want someone to tell me: do this. Simple. Easy. But that isn’t an option, either. So I will continue to debating, to research, to question. And in the end, maybe I will make the right choice and maybe I won’t.

These decisions are complicated and difficult. Sometimes the choice is obvious (though still not easy) but often it’s not. And no one is going to make it for me.

In case you’re curious, here are my current options (from an endocrinologist, a naturopath, a women’s health nurse practitioner, and a gynecologist – clearly I’m not limiting my sources!):

  1. A progesterone compound. I feel sick when I take it and it no longer works effectively to give me a predictable cycle.
  2. A supplement called Calcium D-Glutarate. It should help balance out estrogen. This appeals as an easy thing to take that can be easily stopped, but I’m concerned about what it does. It lowers estrogen, and the other practitioners say I need to increase progesterone and estrogen and/or lower testosterone, so I’m not sure this is the right approach for me.
  3. Progesterone cream. It’s harder to dose and I have to be careful to not damage my skin. It would hopefully fix my cycle but not the other symptoms so I would have to take spironolactone. This makes me nervous because it’s a blood pressure medication and my blood pressure is already too low.
  4. An IUD. This makes me nervous because if I have a reaction, I can’t quickly remove it myself. Again, I would need to take spironolactone in addition.

If any of you folks with PCOS have tried any of these things, I’d love to hear about your experiences! Maybe you can help me make an informed decision. Because I’m not having much luck so far.

Advertisements

Getting a break from the nightmares

August 17, 2018

While I have had symptoms of chronic illness for over 25 years (wow, that makes me feel old!) I only started having recurring nightmares in more recent years.

First there were the dreams where I felt the impending diarrhea and couldn’t find a bathroom, then when I finally found a bathroom the toilets were either set way too high on the wall (like, 4 feet off the ground!) or there were no doors on the stalls. I was trying to hold it in and feeling more and more desperate, but I couldn’t find a usable toilet that I felt comfortable with. I always woke up feeling stressed out and anxious.

Then there were the dreams where I’d be having a lovely time with family or friends. We would be passing food around the table and without thinking I would take a bite of bread or a cracker and after swallowing I would realize that I just ate gluten! Again, I would wake up stressed out and anxious. And wondering if I had really eaten gluten.

The dreams didn’t happen nightly or even weekly, but they kept returning. And no wonder. I was fastidious about avoiding gluten, but somehow I occasionally was glutened. And there was always the fear that I would slip up and eat it by mistake. There were multiple times I needed a toilet desperately and had trouble finding one. These were real life problems.

And the thing is, they still are. I haven’t been glutened in a while, but it’s happened this year, and I’m more nervous than ever about avoiding gluten. As for the diarrhea, I’d love to say that’s a thing of the past, but it’s not. It’s less frequent, and I’m incredibly grateful for that, but it still happens.

So imagine my surprise when I realized the other day that I haven’t had either of those dreams in months! I was free!

Will I ever have those stress dreams again? I have no idea. Even if I don’t, maybe there will be others. Again, I have no idea. All I know is that I’m not having them NOW!

I would love to say it’s because I’m less stressed out, but I’m not. In fact, lately I have been feeling more overwhelmed than I have in a long time. But at least I can get some rest in my dreams. I guess that’s a start.


Gluten free dish soap? I’d love your advice!

August 1, 2018

I feel stuck, and Google hasn’t helped at all. It feels like every day, I find some new non-food thing that needs to be gluten-free. Or I need to check a new purchase of something that I used in the past, because just because something is gluten-free once doesn’t mean that it will be again. My current challenge: dish soap.

Two weeks ago I went on a search for gluten-free lipstick and found a bunch of brands that will be safe (though I still haven’t chosen which colors to get – that’s the harder part!) Last week I found gluten-free hand sanitizer after only a few attempts. But now I’m trying to figure out dish soap.

I want to get Dawn dish soap, but when I called the company, they couldn’t make any guarantees. They don’t add any gluten ingredients, but they can’t guarantee that the raw ingredients they get from other manufacturers are gluten-free. So it might be safe, but we can’t be sure.

But then I started thinking, does it matter? Wouldn’t it just be tiniest trace amounts? And I wash it off the dishes before I eat from them anyway, right? And when I eat gluten-free dishes at restaurants, I don’t check that they use gluten-free dish soap. Ditto for when my mom cooks for me. And I’m fine with those. So maybe it isn’t an issue?

I just don’t know, and I don’t know who to ask. I don’t have a medical professional I can turn to. So I’m asking you, dear readers, for your experiences. Some of you might say it matters and some might say it doesn’t, but either way, I’d love to know what you think. Please share in the comments: if you have Celiac or non-Celiac gluten sensitivity (NCGS), do you get gluten-free dish soap? Do you think it matters?


Am I losing my joints?

July 30, 2018

First it was my wrists. Then my knees. Then my fingers and then my toes. Every few years some new joints began to hurt. Until this year.

Suddenly, all at once, things are doing downhill fast. In the past several months I have developed pain in my feet, thumbs, and shoulders. The foot pain is from arthritis, and it is especially disturbing because I had x-rays done 3 years ago that were fine. In only 3 years there has been marked deterioration and we don’t know why. The thumb pain is from tendonitis, something I’ve never had before. We don’t even know about the shoulder pain yet.

A few months ago, none of these bothered me at all. Now, walking has become more painful than ever, my favorite hobbies of crocheting and knitting are extremely limited, reaching for things is painful, picking anything up hurts, sleeping is harder, and I am freaking out.

Why is this happening all at once?!? Well-meaning friends suggest that it’s weather-related, but I know my body, and it’s not that simple. And besides, let’s say it’s the weather for the sake of argument. How does that help me? That only means that for months every year I’ll be in extra pain? And over time, as the climate continues to change, it will only get worse. So that’s NOT reassuring. Besides, it’s not weather-related. The tendonitis could be, but that began before the heat and humidity set in. And weather did not cause the arthritis in my feet or the bone spurs that are developing.

I keep wondering: how much worse will this get?

For years I have assumed that eventually all of my joints would be come painful, but I expected things to continue in that every-other-year pattern. I would have been in my 50s before things got really widespread. Now, in my 30s, I’m seeing the progression and it ain’t pretty. What will happen if I can’t use my thumbs? How will I function? What if walking becomes even more difficult? What if what if what if?

What ifs aren’t helpful, but I’m only human, and I can’t help but think about it. I’m following doctors’ orders: stop standing on my toes, limit crocheting and knitting, do handy therapy exercises, wear new orthodics…. but it’s not helping. At least, not yet. And besides, the goals with those are to lessen the pain. The doctors agree that this new pain will be permanent. And that makes it extra difficult when well-meaning friends hear about what’s happening and say that hopefully it will go away. When I say it won’t, that this is permanent, they get uncomfortable. They want to offer reassurances but there are none to offer. I get that. I’m the same way when someone I care about is hurting. Still, it sucks that people keep suggesting it will get better. Haven’t they learned? ALL of my pain is permanent. Sometimes it improves, but it never goes away.

Today is a calm day. Last week I was so upset that I couldn’t even write about this. I’m sure I will have many more calm days and many more upset days. In the meantime, I need to find some rational, logical part of my brain to start figuring out why my joints are suddenly causing me pain so much more quickly than they used to. Then maybe, just maybe, I might stand a chance at slowing things down.


I wish I could stop my fake smile

July 21, 2018

Even at 12 years old, I knew not to milk my situation. If I exaggerated the pain I was in, cried unnecessarily, or complained too much, it would come back to bite me in the butt later. I was right, of course. Even without all of the theatrics, some doctors and teachers suggested my pain wasn’t real, that I was just trying to get attention. Assholes. The thing is, this idea that I shouldn’t exaggerate anything boomeranged, and soon I was pretending I was ok even when I wasn’t.

Sometimes that’s a good thing. For me, faking it until I make it can help. And I hate having people constantly ask me what’s wrong, so looking like nothing is wrong can help to prevent that.

But then, sometimes it’s not so good.

Today a friend stopped by unexpectedly. I was NOT in a good place. I’ll probably right about that another time, but basically, I’m in rough shape. The pain has been worse lately, and it’s spreading to more parts of my body for some unknown reason. I’m worried about the future. I might have to move out of the apartment that I love. I’m frustrated and overwhelmed and, mostly, very scared.

I started to talk about some of this with my friend. I could feel the start of tears in my eyes. But I didn’t want to get too far down the rabbit hole. If I tried to explain everything, it would just lead me to focus more on the thing I’m trying to get off my mind for a while. So I said I needed to stop talking about it. And a second later we had changed the subject and I found myself smiling.

Now don’t get me wrong, smiling is a good thing, especially when you’re happy. But I wasn’t happy. I was smiling because I am used to plastering that smile on my face, even when I don’t want to. It’s what made the LTD and SSDI trials so hard: I was supposed to let them see how I really felt, and I didn’t know how to do that anymore. After so many years of fake smiles, how could I stop?

Before my friend showed up, I was definitely not smiling. I wasn’t smiling after he left, either. But with him here, I smiled. I thought to myself, “I should stop smiling. He knows I’m scared and in pain and he’ll be here for me. I want to stop.” But I couldn’t.

When my grandmother died just a few years ago, I cried during the funeral. Later, at the shiva (a Jewish tradition where friends and family gather to console the bereaved) I found myself smiling a lot. One relative I didn’t know very well even commented on how great it was that I could focus on the good parts of my grandmother’s life and remain so cheerful. Little did he know. I wasn’t cheerful. It was an act. I was smiling, I had a bounce in my voice, and I was miserable.

My fake smile was helpful today at the grocery store. I looked and acted normal, so no one asked any questions. But with my family and friends, sometimes I want to stop smiling.

If only I knew how.


Forgetting that I can’t work

July 13, 2018

She was telling me about her search for a part time job that would both meet her logistical criteria and be interesting for her. After years of working just a few hours each week from home, she wanted a change. Just listening, I got excited, and remembered the feeling of accomplishment I got when I worked. I started thinking that I should look for a job, too. Then I quickly came back down to Earth.

Of course I couldn’t work. She stopped working because she could: her part time work from home was lucrative, and her husband earned good money. She was in fine health and there was no reason for her not to get work if she wanted to. I, on the other hand, can’t work. I am too sick. Even my attempts to work part time from home have failed, resulting in worsening health and little money. My only success so far has been dog sitting. I love it, but it doesn’t cover my bills and it doesn’t use my brain the way my former jobs once did.

The strange thing is that this isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten I can’t do something. I had to stop working almost SEVEN year ago. This isn’t new. Yet sometimes I forget. Because I still feel like the old me sometimes, like someone who can go on dates and go out with friends and work full time and clean my own apartment. Maybe I didn’t always enjoying doing all of those things, but I did them. And now I can’t.

I struggle to reconcile who I was, who I feel I should be, and who I am. They’re all me, but somehow, they’re not. My abilities and disabilities alter my personality in ways I don’t expect, but then leave other parts intact, much to my surprise. So I forget. I forget that I can’t go on a hike or swim before heading to a party or get a job. And forgetting isn’t the problem. Remembering is the problem. Because remembering sucks. Remembering brings it all crashing back.

So I will try to support my new friend in her search for a part time job, while also trying to stay grounded in the knowledge that I am unable to do the same. Because right now, that’s my reality.


Feeling too disabled to protest

June 29, 2018

Like in many cities around the country, there will be a big protest in Boston tomorrow, and I won’t be there. Not because I don’t want to be there, but because my health stops me.

At first I thought I might borrow a wheelchair like I did a couple weeks ago for the Pride parade. A friend even said she’d push the chair, and I really appreciated that. That spark of hope lasted for about 45 seconds. Then I remembered the weather forecast.

Until now, we have had surprisingly not-horrible-by-my-standards weather for this time of year. But that ended this week. And tomorrow is supposed to be the worst of them all: 97 degrees and a dew point that the forecasters are calling “oppressive.” The thing is, I struggle when the dew point is what everyone else considers reasonable, so you can imagine how well I do when it’s “oppressive”! For me, that means difficulty breathing, lots of sweating, my already suffering adrenals struggling even more to do their job, more pain than usual, etc. I could end up suffering not just for a day or two. I could have a major health setback. So I can’t go.

I would like to participate in some other substantial way. I can’t donate to funds, since my income doesn’t even support my own expenses.

So I do what I can. I post a lot on social media to make people aware. I don’t know how many people are actually seeing what I post, or how many care, or how many didn’t already know what I’m posting about, but if I get even one person to vote this fall who wouldn’t otherwise, then it’s worth it.

I am trying to humanize the situation for my friends and acquaintances. For most of them, Trump’s and the GOP’s policies are horrible, but don’t affect anyone they know. I’m trying to show them that isn’t true.

Of course, this is harder because I won’t post on social media about being on SSDI or food stamps. My “real” friends know, but I don’t want to share that online. Still, I do talk about how my health insurance is at risk, and the real consequences that could bring for me. I talk about not being about to work, about being queer, about being Jewish, about being a woman, and how these policies will affect me because of those various aspects of myself.

It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

I feel incredibly frustrated and yes, even angry, that I can’t protest tomorrow. Over and over I have had to miss out on these protests. Instead, I am trying to remind myself that maybe what I am doing is helping in some small way.

And in that vein, dear reader, let me ask you to please vote! I know that many of you aren’t in the U.S. but I’m guessing it’s important for you to vote, too. And for those of you in the U.S. with chronic illness, it is especially important for you to look at who is going to be on your ballot this November and what their policies are. Our lives are at risk. We are facing limits to healthcare access, cuts to social security as well as medicare and medicaid, not to mention cuts to food stamps and housing services. There is so much more that I could say, but I will just mention these few things that on their own should worry us all. This November we will see many seats in the House of Representatives as well as the Senate up for grabs, and it’s important to vote in folks who will fight for us, not hurt us. At the same time, many governors’ seats will be voted on, as well as other state and local seats, and those are also super important. If you ever want to learn more about any of this, just let me know and I will be glad to discuss it.

Either way, if you are in the U.S. then put November 6, 2018 on your calendar and be sure to vote! And if you won’t be able to get to your polling station, contact your town or city hall well in advance to get an absentee ballot. You can vote from home!

Even if, like me, you can’t get out to protest in person, you can protest with your ballot. Let’s do this!


%d bloggers like this: