What about the infectious diseases?

June 18, 2014

It started with a Twitter chat about different thyroid meds. Then we were emailing about hypothyroid. It morphed into conversations about our families, our hometowns, and the other stuff of life, but it always came back to health stuff. And then the other day Miss Diagnoses emailed me a transcript of an interesting talk about tick-borne illnesses and how their symptoms often masquerade as autoimmune diseases. Hmm. There’s something familiar about that!

I read the 21 page transcript, then I visited the doctor’s web site. I ordered his book from my library system and will pick it up next week when it arrives at my local branch. I considered trying to visit this doctor, without insurance, 5 hours away. And then I checked myself. How many times have I traveled down a similar path?

There are so many things that could be the cause of my health problems. There are so many things that could be contributing factors. It’s hard to know which to pursue. But every time I see a potential answer to the big question, I grab hold of it like a life jacket in the middle of the ocean. Then I remember that there’s a boat nearby. I’m just not sure if I can manage to swim to it, or if it might have a hole in the bottom. Because if I see the wrong infectious disease specialist, I might be told I don’t have any infectious diseases even though I do. Or I might be told I need treatment that I don’t need. Or I might be given antibiotics for 1 month when I really need them for 1 year.

There was a time when I believed, as so many people still do believe, that if you get sick, you see a doctor, they find the problem, they treat you, and you get better. But I know better now. I have literally dozens of stories to disprove that neat little theory. Take last fall. I saw a sleep doctor who said there was nothing he could do to help me. He gave me a referral to a sleep psychologist. Great. Then I saw someone else in his practice (the doctor I’d originally been trying to see anyway!) He ordered tests that the first doctor didn’t even suggest. He suggested a medication change that the first doctor ignored. I ended up with a sleep apnea diagnosis that the first doctor never considered. And he prescribed a CPAP machine that I was clearly never going to get from the first doctor. The CPAP has made a huge difference for me. I sleep so much better, and I feel more clear-headed. Some nights I haven’t used it all night for one reason or another (an ear infection, congestion, a weird dream that caused me to take it off in my sleep) and there’s a noticeable difference the next day not only in my fatigue and energy levels, but also in the clarity of my thinking. More than that, if untreated, sleep apnea can be dangerous. One doctor diagnosed it. Another never considered it. And that was in the same practice.

I can give similar stories in the fields of endocrinology, rheumatology, internal medicine, physical therapy, psychology, dentistry, orthopedics, and probably others that I’m not thinking of right now. So why should infectious disease or any other specialty be any different?

And yet I know that I need to pursue this. And visiting an supposed-expert 5 hours away for many hundreds of dollars just isn’t the most realistic approach. I need to find someone local, and I really won’t know if they’re any good until I try them. And even then, I don’t know enough about the field to be sure. But I’ll try, because what other option is there? Can I really risk leaving this stone unturned?

I started a list tonight of new paths to pursue, new potential pieces of my health puzzle. Maybe this isn’t one of them. But there’s no way to know until I try.

If you know of a great infectious disease specialist in Boston, please let me know in the comments or email me at msrants at gmail dot com ! And I’d love to know about your experiences with infectious disease diagnoses and research.


A little petting goes a long way

June 17, 2014

It wasn’t hard to see the pattern: I would pet an animal, usually a dog, and feel really happy afterwards. It’s probably been that way my whole life, but I’ve been noticing it more over the last few years. I think that as my health has gotten worse and PoochI’ve been leaving the house less, the joy of being around pets has been more pronounced.

The guy on the right is awesome. He almost always makes me feel better. But I don’t get to see him very often. (And yes, there’s a dog under all that fur!) I need to find a way to pet dogs more often.

Some days I don’t leave the house. Other days I just drive to a doctor appointment or do the grocery store. But when I’m able to walk around my neighborhood, I often see people walking their dogs. Like a little kid, I walk up to strangers and ask to pet their dogs. I’m friendly, and I tell the owners how beautiful/cute/sweet/smart their dogs are, so they’re happy to chat while I pet. This helps, but it’s not enough.

I’ve been thinking that since I can’t care of a  dog myself, maybe I should find a way to volunteer at a shelter. With my health issues, of course, I wouldn’t be a very reliable volunteer. But when I saw dozens of cute pooches at the Pride Parade this weekend, I just knew I had to try. Businesses of all kinds set up booths at the festival that follows the parade. Several sell gear for cats and dogs (rainbow bandanas, rainbow leashes, etc.) There were also a couple of nonprofits that work with animals. I was familiar with one of them, so I asked about volunteer opportunities. It might be a good fit.

I’m still nervous about trying to commit to something when I can never be sure in advance which days I’ll be able to leave the house, but it’s sure with trying. Because after petting those dogs at Pride I sure felt a lot better!


All rainbowed up and no place to go

June 13, 2014

One thing about chronic illness is that I miss out on a lot of events. You name it, I’ve missed it: weddings, dinners out, birthday celebrations, medical appointments, support groups, parties…. Illness doesn’t discriminate. Sure, when there’s an especially important event, I’ll try to rest up in advance, but it’s not like I always have a choice.

This weekend, I’m wondering if I’ll be attending Pride events. For those who don’t know, LGBT Pride is the biggest holiday2014-06-13 17.03.12 of the year. It’s like queer Christmas, Chanukah, and birthdays all rolled into one. It’s something I look forward to for months. As I type, my fingernails are painted in rainbow colors. My buttons and mardi gras beads are ready. And I’ve been feeling crappy all week. Because my illness doesn’t care about Pride. It just acts up whenever it wants to.

Last year there was a hurricane coming up the coast and a bunch of us went out to the Dyke March anyway in the drenching rains. We got soaked, but we were glad we went. The next day was warm and sunny and the Parade was a ton of Rainfun. As usual, I was too tired to go to any of the parties at night or on Sunday, but that was ok, because I went to my top two choices: the Dyke March and the Pride Parade.

This year it’s raining again. It’s not as bad as last year, but it’s not exactly a light rain, either. Check out the view from my window. If I was having a good day, I’d just suck it up and go. But do I really want to do that when I’m already feeling so crappy? No, not really.

Tomorrow is supposed to be cool but with a very high dew point. Which means I may not feel up to going to the Pride Parade either. Plus, just to add in another obstacle, the closest subway station is under construction so I’d have to do even more walking. Oh yeah, and there’s a 50% chance of rain. Ugh.

So maybe I’ll just go to the party on Sunday. And that would be nice. But that’s not what I really want to do. I want to go to the March tonight and to the Parade tomorrow and I don’t want to have to wait another 12 months for my next chance. Plenty of people will skip out because of the weather and that’s their choice. But it wouldn’t be mine. I’ve gone out to both the March and the Parade in the rain before, and I want to do it again. I want it to be my choice, not my body’s. And that’s why I’m feeling so pissed off right now.


Chronic illness mentoring

June 5, 2014

“My friend was just diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last week.”

She said it because she’d overheard me telling someone else about some good resources for studies that had been done, but for someone newly diagnosed, I had other advice. I told Amy that a lot of people lose their friends when they get sick and are no longer able to be as social as they had been before. I told her to make it clear to her friend that she’d be there for her, no matter what. And that she then needed to follow through. I told her that a lot of web sites indulge in fear-mongering, and that she needed to tell her friend to ignore those sites. I told her that her friend needed to talk to others with MS, but only the ones who could be realistic and encouraging, not the ones who are in denial or who will tell her that her life is over. Amy asked how her friend could find the right people while avoiding the wrong ones and I told her to do the research herself, to go on Twitter and on blogs, filter out the negative ones, and give her friend links to the better ones. I warned her that it would be scary and discouraging to see some of the writing, but that it was the best way to help her friend from hundreds of miles away. Amy said that her friend was wondering if she should leave her job and I told her to tell her friend not to give up anything before she has to; when she becomes too disabled for her current work then she can find something else, but there’s no reason to act disabled before she really is.

And then I gave her my email and phone number and told her to have her friend get in touch with me. But I doubt the friend will.

When I first started feeling sick, I felt so alone. I didn’t know anyone else with symptoms like mine. I looked in books, but I didn’t find anything. The world wide web was just coming into existence and didn’t have a lot of information. As my symptoms progressed and the internet grew, I tried again, but with no luck. Now it’s the opposite: there are too many places to turn. Someone who is newly diagnosed can easily be bombarded with information, some accurate and some not. There are scam artists and legitimate resources. There are bloggers who talk only about the worst symptoms and others who act like life will never change. There are horror stories scattered across social media like landmines. There are so-called “inspirational stories” leaving most people with unrealistic expectations of what they are expected to achieve. If you look hard enough, you just might find, hidden amongst all of that, a few people talking about the reality. They discuss the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult, and present it as fact.

What’s missing, I realized while I spoke to Amy, is a mentor. There are probably a few hanging around the web, but I haven’t met them, and I imagine they’re even harder for a newcomer to find. We see mentors in business situations all the time, but where’s the mentor for someone newly diagnosed with a chronic illness? Where’s the person to guide you when you’re scared and your family and friends don’t understand? Where’s the person to help you navigate doctors and insurance and nightmares about a scary future? I needed that when I first got sick more than 20 years ago. People need it now.

The other day it was Amy. Last month it was the woman who gave me my tetnus shot. I can’t help everyone, but I’ve decided to label myself a “chronic illness mentor” so that at least the occasional person will feel comfortable calling me. I’ll print up some free business cards and hand them out. I will make no promises. I won’t cure an illness or even make the journey easy, but I hope that I can at least make it a bit easier for people at a very difficult time.

Does this sound like a reasonable approach? How would you offer your help to people? What else do you think I should do? Please comment and let me know.