Playing Musical Doctors

March 23, 2015

There’s a child’s game that’s really quite simple called Musical Chairs. The children gather in a circle around a bunch of chairs. Music plays, and the children march in a circle around those chairs. When the music stops suddenly in the middle of a song, everyone rushes to sit in a chair. The catch is, there are fewer chairs than children, and whoever doesn’t get a chair is out of the game. (Each time someone leaves the game, more chairs are removed from the circle.) So you always wonder who will get a chair and who will be left standing.

That’s how my calendar went with doctor appointments last week. I called it Musical Doctors.

When you see many specialists, and each require multiple checkups and followups each year, sooner or later this kind of thing is bound to happen. For me, the game started this time when I needed to make an appointment. A few days before I’d been thinking thinking about how nice it was not to have any doctor appointments lately, how much less stressful it felt, how much more time and energy I had. Then I tried to make an appointment and discovered why I’d been enjoying a blissful break in the doctor hecticness: they were all piled up in March and April! In 3 weeks I had 5 appointments scheduled, with 2 more a couple weeks after that. I often have appointments grouped together coincidentally, but 5 in 3 weeks is a lot, even for me! And suddenly I was scheduling a sixth! It wasn’t easy fitting that sixth one into my schedule, but I made it work.

I was dreading the 6 appointments in 3 weeks. It was overwhelming just thinking about it! But then I took a closer look at my calendar and realized I had an unfortunate conflict. The appointment with the hardest doctor to schedule, Dr. T, happened to conflict with a support group I’m in that means a lot to me. Not only that, but this was a special meeting of the group. It had taken me 6 months to get this appointment. The last time it took me 8 months to get an appointment. Still, I called the office and asked to be put on the cancellation list, just in case.

But I wasn’t putting all my eggs in that basket! I emailed Dr. T and explained the situation. I was clear that I would keep this appointment if I had to, but if it was at all possible to move the appointment, even if it meant waiting a few more weeks, I’d really like to do that. A few days later, I got a call from his office. They offered me another time slot, and I was so excited. But when I pulled out my calendar, I saw that I already had an appointment that day. This was the only day they could offer me. The other doctor, Dr. C, is also hard to schedule, but not as hard as Dr. T. Technically I had time to do both the same day, but I knew I would haven’t have the energy for both. I figured I’d take my chances. I took the new appointment. Now I could go to my support group!

Ok, it was time to call Dr. C. She was booking into July (and this was mid-March.) I could wait if I had to, but it wasn’t ideal. But wait, they’d had a cancellation later in April! This would mean seeing Dr. C the day before seeing another doctor, Dr. H, and each involves a lot of driving. Still, it seemed like the best possible option. I took it.

It was an odd set of coincidences, but somehow it seems to have worked out. My biannual dental appointment, my quarterly rheumatology checkup, my annual determatology checkup, and several followups all just happened to fall in the same 3 weeks. Such is life when you have multiple chronic illnesses.

After some juggling, each doctor is now in a time slot. And who’s “out” like in the game? I’m not sure, but I think it’s me.


My improved health: how I got here

February 16, 2015

A friend recently asked me what has helped me the most. I’ve thought about that vaguely from time to time, but this time I really considered what got me to where I am.

Three years ago I had left my job hoping to go back soon, and instead I found myself feeling steadily worse. I was house bound 3-5 days per week, on average. An afternoon with a friend would leave me barely functioning that evening and all of the next day. My memory was lousy, I was nauseated all the time, the fatigue was debilitating, and the pain was getting even worse.

Now, I only spend 1-2 days at home each week, and when I go out, it’s for longer stretches of time. I do more each day. When I’m home, I don’t feel as bad. The GI symptoms are almost entirely gone, the pain is mostly stable and an acceptable (for me) level, my memory is better (but not great yet), the fatigue has improved so much, and I can recover from an afternoon out pretty quickly. It feels like a miracle! But it wasn’t a miracle, it was a lot of hard work and a bit of luck.

I think what helped me was a bit of an insurance doctor, a lot of my naturopath, and a huge amount of me.

The doctor that the disability insurance company made me see encouraged me to see a sleep doctor. I had been thinking about it, but he nudged me more in that direction. I did sleep studies and started using a cpap machine, and it made a huge difference. For the first time in ages I was waking up feeling slightly better than I had when I went to sleep!

My naturopath did a lot for me. I was already gluten free, but she got me off dairy and helped me figure out the other foods I should avoid. She got me on various supplements that have been helpful (and some that weren’t, but that’s ok – it’s all trial and error, right?) She got my vitamin D levels up, improved my zinc levels, and found a multivitamin that didn’t make me feel ill (something have had problems with for many years.) She tested my adrenals and got me on supplements to help them. She guided me through every step of the process.

The luck was that I had medical conditions that could be improved. Not everyone is so fortunate, and I am grateful every single day that I had options, even thought I had to work incredibly hard to find them.

And then there’s me. When I was barely functioning 3 years ago, and the doctors were all telling me there was nothing they could do, I decided to at least learn a bit more about my situation. I picked up a book at the library, and that led to more books, blogs, and online support groups. Reading was slow thanks to the brain fog and fatigue, but I eventually learned that my hypothyroid treatment wasn’t the only option, despite what my doctor had said. I did more research. I learned which kinds of doctors I should see. I made many phone calls. I learned about naturopathy and researched naturopaths, eventually choosing the one that I see now. I went on a gluten-free diet. Later, I stuck to the more restrictive diet that my naturopath recommended. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. More recently, I cut out all trace amounts of gluten, like from lotions and from kissing someone who’s eaten gluten. Again, it isn’t easy, but I’m doing it. I’ve swallowed more pills per day than I’d like to think about. I’ve stressed about the financial cost of it all. I’ve fought with insurance companies and with doctors. When a doctor I’d waited months to see was unexpectedly out of the office and I was given a substitute (who was useless, by the way) I complained to the head of the office and got an immediate appointment with the doctor I wanted (who was incredible!) I pushed myself to do more than I wanted to do. When a doctor didn’t want to give me the hypothyroid treatment I wanted, I found someone new (and the treatment change was a good move!) I found a new podiatrist when I felt my orthodics weren’t right, I restarted physical thearpy, and I learned about trigger points. As I felt better, I moved on to new lines of research. I followed up every lead from books I read and from patients I spoke to. I like to knit, and sometimes, as you’re knitting along, pulling at the yarn, you’ll encounter a knot, and it’s hard to untangle it. I’ve been untangling the knot of my health conditions for the last few years.

The main thing I did was I ignored all of the naysayers. The doctors told me I couldn’t get any better. Friends and family thought I should stick with “traditional” medicine. But I stuck at it. I didn’t do anything that didn’t seem to have some solid research behind it. I listened to patient experience, but I didn’t follow up on anything unless multiple people had had good results, and then I was still careful. And all along, I knew it might be for nothing. I knew the doctors might be right and I might not get any better, but I held out a glimmer of hope, too.

I won’t pretend I’m perfectly healthy now. Or that I ever will be. I know that my health conditions are permanent. The best I can hope for is to go into remission, and even that is a long shot. But I’m trying.

Because I could have given up. I could have accepted what the doctors told me. I would now be bedridden, with no hope of any improvement. That could still happen some day. I know that. But I’m focusing on one thing: today is not that day.

I’m not suggesting that my story is one that can be replicated. I’m not trying to be inspirational or any of that other bullshit. I’m not pushing anyone to do what I did if they don’t want to. I’m simply trying to answer the question I hear over and over from friends and from readers: “How did you manage to improve?” I’ll gladly give more details if anyone wants them, but for now I’ll just say, it was a bit of luck, a fair amount of searching for the right medical providers, and a whole lot of effort by me.


Feeling figuratively itchy

February 8, 2015

I have this itch I can’t scratch and it’s driving me up the wall. It’s a desire to do something!

How do you spend your days? Think about it. Now ask yourself, could you be doing more?

For a long time, my answer to that last question was no. I was doing all I could. Well, I was doing enough, anyway. I was working, socializing, volunteering. I was sick and trying to take care of myself. I was spending hours dealing with lawyers, insurance companies, and benefits. I was seeing many doctors. I was doing combinations of these. But now, suddenly, I’m not doing any of them Well ok, I’m still seeing doctors, but not as often.

The insurance nightmare is over. I’ve received all of the benefits I’m eligible for. My health is stable enough. I have some more research to do and some more treatments to try, but they’re on hold as I adjust some of my current meds. On top of all of that, miraculously, I’m feeling better! I’m able to do more each day than I could a year ago. I still need to rest, but usually for only a day or two at a time, which is a big improvement. Sometimes just half a day of rest is enough. I have more time. And when I’m being productive, I’m able to think more clearly. My memory still has gaps, but they’ve shrunk a bit. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have the potential to do more!

So you may be wondering what my problem is. Well, it’s simple: I feel like I have potential, but I’m not confident that I really do. And if I do something to earn money, and I lose benefits, it would somewhat defeat the purpose of working.

I mentioned the other day that I want to get a new apartment. I’ve been looking at apartments and each time I do, I’m completely exhausted and need to rest the next day. This is a physically and emotionally tiring process, but it’s short term. In a few months, hopefully, I’ll be mostly unpacked in my new home. Still, if this is so exhausting, then can I really manage even a part time job? I don’t want my health to backslide. I also don’t want to lose my new-found ability to take care of myself properly, lose my ability to socialize, or lose this feeling of actually feeling ok a lot of the time.

Another other thing that’s on my mind when I look at apartments is the cost. Right now, I’m pulling money out of savings every month. That’s ok for a while, but at some point I’ll run out of savings. My social security payments can cover my rent or all of my other expenses. (Yes, my rent is almost exactly half of my total monthly expenses.) So any rent will be too much. Still, I’m trying to find something slightly cheaper than my current place, which isn’t easy to do around here. At the end of the day, I know I need to earn some money to go towards my rent. Let’s say I can manage to earn $1000 per month eventually. That’s not enough for me to lose my social security, but I’m guessing I’d lose my food stamps and fuel assistance. Once I account for the loss of those other benefits, it would be like I was only earning $750. So I’d be putting in $1000 worth of effort and time to only getting $750 in return. That’s hard to swallow. I need to figure out a way to earn that $1000 with as little time and effort as possible to make it worth it. And then I still wouldn’t be breaking even, either. But I’d be closer.

I want so badly to do something useful. And I know I need to get paid for it. I also know I need to wait. I need to wait until I’ve figured out the financial angle and until I know my health is stable enough. So I’ll wait. I wouldn’t want to try any sort of work until after I move anyway. But still, there’s this feeling, this need, to do something. Because it’s been a long time since I’ve had that option. And deep inside, I have the fear that this almost-ability won’t last long, so I better seize the chance while I can.

But I need to wait.

Hence the itch.


What a difference a parking spot can make

February 6, 2015

I should be out doing things today. I should at least be doing things around my apartment. Instead, it’s noon, I’m in my pajamas, and I’m having trouble finding the energy to do anything remotely useful. Why? Because of parking problems.2015-01-28 08.31.11

Parking is a problem in a lot of cities. It’s so inconvenient that I briefly considered going car-less a few years ago, but the reality is that there were just too many days, even when I was healthier, that I could walk to public transportation. So I kept my car. Which means I always need a place to put my car.

Boston has gotten a lot of snow recently – about 40″ in the last two weeks. And we’re do for another foot or two in the next few days. In a city of narrow roads, this greatly restricts parking. My neighborhood has parking on both sides of the street normally, but right now there’s only enough room to park on one side. That means that every time I drive, I worry about giving up my parking space.

Two days ago, I came home tired, then spent 1/2 hour looking for a parking space. By the time I got to my apartment I was too tired to cook dinner.

Yesterday I decided to take the bus instead of giving up my parking space. I took the bus, walked, walked more, took the bus, and took another bus. I was exhausted. I did everything I needed to while I was out, but it was tiring. Then I waited for the last bus for 30 minutes in wind chill temperatures around 10F. That didn’t help. Again, by the time I got home I was too tired to cook dinner.

Today I’m resting. If I had driven yesterday, I’d probably have the energy to do the few things I’d like to do today. I could go to the post office, cook, and generally feel decent. Instead, I feel lousy. And why? Because I didn’t want to give up my parking space.

I’ve thought about moving several times over the years, but this may be the last straw. It may be time to move now. I’ve tried to put up with the parking stresses, but last week I didn’t go out because of it, and that wasn’t good for my emotion health. This week I did go out and it wasn’t good for my physical health. Shouldn’t I live someplace where I can go out when I need to and come home when I need to? (By the way, parking can be tough even when there’s no snow on the ground. The snow just makes it that much harder.)

So I’m looking for a new apartment. In fact, that’s what I was doing when I took the bus yesterday. I’ve seen a couple places that are close to what I want, but not quite. I’m still looking. It’s a tough market, so please wish me luck!

And hopefully, by next winter, I will have an apartment with my very own, off street parking space. Oh, what a luxury that would be!