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!


Sliding backwards

April 28, 2014

Sometimes I feel like Sisyphus. I keep trying so hard to get better, and I keep having setbacks. And yet, I know I’m one of the lucky ones.

I’m one of the lucky ones because I’ve seen improvement overall.

So I’m frustrated and grateful, scared and excited, angry and glad, whipping back and forth between different emotions as my physical health changes. I’m so glad I was able to go to a family party yesterday and still feel ok afterwards, but I’m frustrated that I don’t feel up to going out to dinner with friends tonight. I’m glad that I’ll probably feel up to going to a doctor appointment tomorrow, but frustrated that I probably won’t feel up to doing laundry afterwards. I see a bright future, but I wonder if I’ll ever reach it. It’s like the carrot being dangled in front of me. Family, friends, my naturopath… they all say that one day I’ll grab that carrot, but no one says that it will still be crunchy and delicious. Maybe by then it will have gone bad. Instead of working and socializing and living a so-called normal life, I’ll only be able to work a bit and then be too sick to socialize. Maybe I’ll never really be able to date again. Maybe my dream of being able to actually give a solid RSVP to an event is nothing but that: a dream.

Two weeks ago I was feeling pretty good. I had been seeing a lot of improvement since starting a CPAP machine. I was on a new medication. Things were looking up! I was feeling better than I had in ages and I thought it would continue. The pattern was clear: 3-4 days of feeling great, 1-2 days of feeling crappy, and another day of feeling so-so. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a great sign that things would continue to improve. And then that pattern ended. I don’t know why. Technically, nothing changed. I thought I was in transition towards a better stage of health but maybe that wasn’t it, afterall.

I am trying to focus on the positive. I feel so much better than I did two years ago. I feel better than I did even 6 months ago. And I guess that’s the difference between me and Sisyphus: so far, I haven’t had to start over in this most recent journey. I slide backwards, but not completely. That means that the next time I improve, I’m starting from a higher point. It’s not perfect, but I’m grateful for it.

So right now, as the dark clouds are rolling in and my seasonal affective disorder is kicking up, as my body aches and the fatigue is ever-present, as I wonder if I’ll ever reach that carrot of a future, I’m trying very hard to see the last few years for what they’ve been, and be glad that, at least right now, I seem to be done with them.

 


A day off means something else when you have a chronic illness

April 2, 2014

For most of my life, “a day off” meant a weekday that I didn’t go to work or school, wasn’t in bed sick, and could do whatever I wanted.

About a dozen years ago I took “a day off” for the first time that didn’t involve any travel. I didn’t go to work, I got extra sleep, I took the car in for some work that needed to be done, I cleaned the apartment, and I indulged in some hobbies. By the end of the day, I felt fantastic – rested, relaxed, and productive. I remember it so well.

These days “a day off” is a completely different animal. For one thing, I’m not in school or working at a job, so that’s not relevant. Instead, I spend a lot of my time dealing with health issues. I can never get away from my health problems; those are and will always be with me. I can almost get away from some of the logistical issues, though. And I can ignore the “to do” list that needs doing.

I woke up feeling horrible. I’m more exhausted than I have been in a while. So many muscles ache that don’t usually ache. I woke up not wanting to do anything. Luckily for me, I didn’t have anything scheduled today, medical, social or otherwise. So I decided to take “a day off.” There’s so much I should be doing, but I’m not. I should be making phone calls to find a therapist. I should be dealing with a form from my lawyer. I should be doing laundry. I should be changing the sheets on my bed. I should be taking a walk on this rare sunny afternoon. I should have put food in the crockpot this morning. I should be getting a long-overdue haircut. Doing even two of these things would make me feel very productive, but instead I’m not doing any of them. No, instead I’m taking “a day off.”

Here’s what I have been and will be doing:

  • Took a shower at 4pm. I put it off as long as I could, but in the end I felt sort of gross and decided it was worth it.
  • Emailed with some friends (but ignored all of my other emails.)
  • Fill my pill boxes for the week. I do this every Wednesday. I don’t want to do it, and I’ve been putting it off, but it really has to be done today.
  • Watched tv. Will watch more tv.
  • Read my book. Will read more.
  • Knitted. Will knit more.
  • Writing this blog post.
  • Ate leftovers. Will eat more leftovers
  • Will wash dishes. Because there’s no one else to do it.

I haven’t decided yet about my physical therapy exercises. I should do them, but I’m just so tired, and they take so much effort, and it’s my day off, so I don’t want to even think about it. But I know I need to.

So at the end of today, I won’t feel rested, relaxed, and productive like I did that day 12 years ago. But maybe I won’t feel any worse than I did when I woke up this morning. If that happens, I’ll consider it a successful day.