Why is dinner so difficult?

October 25, 2013

I know the title of this sounds whiny, but I don’t care. I feel whiny.

I was just talking on the phone to someone who worked a full day at a job, then worked out at the gym, then finally got home to rest for just a bit before having to suddenly go out and take care of a sick family member. I spoke to her just after she had gotten home and she was completely exhausted. She was having trouble just getting up and moving around. She was completely worn out.

So was I. That’s why I feel whiny. What did I do today? I had a quiet morning. I met a friend for lunch. We walked over to an eyeglass store and I tried on glasses while she gave her opinion on each. I came home. I read, checked Facebook, answered emails. I was doing pretty well until dinner. Some days cooking isn’t too bad, but this wasn’t one of those days. The oven was on and it was too hot, even though the windows were open. In a tank top, I was sweating. I made something new, and it took too much mental energy. I had to leave the kitchen to sit and rest twice. And that was just preparing the meal. Never mind the effort to eat it or, even worse, wash the dishes.

I’m lucky that I can prepare meals most days. I know that. But still, sometimes I just get so frustrated that cooking one dinner can exhaust me as much as a healthy person on their most hectic, stressful day.

What daily (or near-daily) activity wears you out? What do you feel is so much more exhausting than you ever thought it would be?


Sometimes I want someone to get as sick as me

October 17, 2013

I’ve always been a kind, generous, compassionate, empathetic person. I know that sounds like bragging, but it’s just the truth. I always want to help others and I never want anyone to feel sick or hurt in any way. A friend posted a picture on Facebook today of circus elephants and all I could think was, “Those poor elephants!” So you can imagine how hard it is for me to admit that sometimes I want others to get as sick as I am.

For a long time I’ve fought this. I’ve tried to tell myself that I didn’t really mean it when I thought this way. But that wasn’t true. The truth is, there are some people who I want to feel bad. I don’t feel this way about all people, of course, but it’s still there.

But when someone says that all people wanting prescription painkillers are just trying to abuse the system, I want them to feel horrible, chronic pain. I want them to be in pain every single day, horrible pain, can’t-think-properly pain, want-to-cut-my-arm-off pain. I want them to know it will be for the rest of their life. Then maybe after a few weeks, after they’ve had to deal with the physical, emotional, and social fallout, then maybe they can feel better.

When someone suggests that I should really be well enough to work, that a little exhaustion can’t be that bad, I want them to experience my exhaustion. I want them to miss friends’ weddings, fun outings, living life, having a job, feeling young, feeling independent. I want them to worry about ever dating, getting married, having children, having pets. Then after they’ve fully experienced the horribleness of it, then maybe they can get better.

When politicians say that the already underfunded Social Security Disability system should be cut back because of fraud, I want them to get so ill that they can’t work, apply for benefits, get denied, appeal, get denied again, and then question how they will pay rent, buy food, and live in general. After they’ve fretted and suffered for a while, then I suppose they can get better.

When someone says that we don’t need healthcare reform in this country I want them to get really sick and try to get care. I want them to see that even with health insurance, it can be very expensive. I want them to see that health insurance doesn’t cover it all. I want them to see how hard it can be to get health insurance and how easy it can be to lose it. I want them to spend dozens of hours fighting with insurance companies instead of using those hours to get well. Then they can get better.

When someone judges me, thinks that I’m not too sick to do the things they can do, thinks I shouldn’t be out of work or “acting” sick, I want them to get exactly what I have. I want them to feel the exhaustion, pain, and fear, all while “looking good.” I want them to be judged and to have to defend themselves constantly. I want them to break down crying because it’s all too much. Then I suppose they can get better.

You see, I don’t want these people to feel as sick as me forever. I’m actually not all that vindictive. But I want them to feel it for a while so that they understand. So that they have some compassion. I just want understanding and I really don’t think anyone can understand unless they’ve been through it.

I hate to admit all of this. Today was the first day I admitted my true feelings to myself. Maybe it makes me a horrible person, maybe not. But it’s how I feel and I won’t pretend otherwise anymore.


Should I try to trust doctors?

October 10, 2013

I’m in a bit of medical flux at the moment.

I have a naturopath who’s very helpful and knowledgeable, but thanks to absurd politics, naturopaths aren’t licensed in Massachusetts. That means she can’t order blood tests or prescribe medications. Great. I haven’t had a primary care physician (PCP) that I’ve trusted in many years, and in hindsight, none of them were very good anyway, and some even did harm. I have never had a “good” PCP. I have some specialists who are good, but they aren’t in the specialty that I need right now. In a few weeks I’ll see a new PCP, but I’ve never gotten any value out of PCPs. Still, they are necessary for insurance referrals, so I will see the PCP and grade him based on his willingness and ability to refer me to good specialists. And when he does refer me, should I trust the new specialist?

After many years of bad health, I’m finally ready to try new treatments that could really help me. But these are all based on research that I did myself. I then ran that research by my doctors and naturopath and they all agree this is the way to go, but I had to figure it out for myself. I no longer expect a doctor to give me any answers. That means that right now, I am only looking for doctors who are willing and knowledgeable enough to implement the treatment plan that I have designed for myself, and to help catch any potential problems and fix them.

The thing is, what if something new comes up that I haven’t already researched? I just can’t trust a doctor to catch it and treat it properly. It could be big or small, but I won’t trust them. I know that trust is essential, but I just don’t have it for most in the medical field. I have seen my naturopath quite a bit in the last year+ and I mostly trust her, but not 100%  So then why would I trust someone new?

I don’t trust easily. That goes for friends, lovers, medical practitioners, and anyone else I get close to. I don’t give out trust; it has to be earned. My friends have all earned my trust. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t consider them friends. So have my lovers. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have slept with them. But I don’t have the luxury of visiting doctors a bunch of times and letting them earn my trust. Most of them don’t seem interested in earning it, and the insurance won’t pay for it (nor will my bank account.)

The truth is, I have been screwed over by doctors, health insurances, and medical facilities so many more times than I have covered in this blog. Tests I needed weren’t run. Abnormal test results were ignored. Surgery was performed unnecessarily. I was blamed for my own health problems. I was ignored. I was embarrassed. I was belittled. I was outright lied to. Necessary referrals to specialists weren’t given. Important medications were denied. It’s not that I won’t write about it all, it’s that I can’t. I can’t even remember it all. There’s just too much.

So after all of that, how can I be expected to trust a new doctor? But then, what other choice do I have?

By the way, I set out to write about what I am looking for in my new doctors. I need to think about this before I see them in a few weeks so I really tried to come up with what was most important to me. I couldn’t come up with a damn thing because no matter how I thought about it, it always came back to the same problem: I wouldn’t trust them to help me.


From unconsciousness into pain awareness

October 6, 2013

Last night I went to bed thinking about the probable rain we’d get today. I made plans with friends a month ago, and they involved being outdoors today, so I was really hoping it wouldn’t rain.

Normally, I would wake up on a rainy Sunday and immediately enjoy the quiet, the peace, that we only get on rainy

Why must you hurt me, thumb?

Why must you hurt me, thumb?

Sundays in this neighborhood. No cars, no trucks, no shouts. The sound of rain against my bedroom windows. Heaven. Normally I’d enjoy that. Today was different. You’d think I’d have first thought about my ruined plans, but no.

The first thing I noticed was pain. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, which made my brain wake up a bit – why couldn’t I sleep? The pain wasn’t that bad, and I’ve gotten good and sleeping through mild to moderate pain over the past 20+ years. I slowly realized that the pain was in a new place. Huh. That’s not good. I figured that’s why I couldn’t sleep. Every time pain appears someplace new, it takes me some time to learn to ignore it. As I lay there in the dark, I started to realize that this pain was different. Instead of pain in my joints, it was in my thumbs, above the top joints. This was weird. And it wasn’t the usual pain, this was a throbbing pain. And it was both thumbs. I never get symmetrical pain, so this worried me. And suddenly I was a bit more awake.

Cuddled under the blankets, I gave it some thought. What did I know? I knew that I had a new kind of pain, in a new place, and it was symmetrical. I could call my doctor, but I doubt she could do anything by phone. And the office is closed on weekends. Was it worth going to the hospital? Nope. I could wait. If was still a problem tomorrow, then I could call and be seen. But I still doubt they could do anything. How worried should I be? I had no clue. Maybe I should go back to sleep? I tried, but no luck.

And then I noticed that it was raining. It was quiet and peaceful. Oh shit! My plans had to be cancelled!