Grieving all over again

September 30, 2019

Chronic illness is never easy, and some days it feels harder than others. Lately, what has been getting to me the most has been my limitations, especially the ones due to Celiac Disease. I am angry and resentful that I can no longer attend an event and eat the food, friends no longer invite me over to dinner, I can’t simply grab lunch someplace while I’m out for the day. I hate having to worry about every little trace amount of gluten, having to wash my hands carefully before eating or taking a pill or getting a hair off my tongue. I can’t stand that I will never again be able to spontaneously kiss someone without first making sure they brushed their teeth.

But why now? I gave up gluten almost eight years ago. Is it because the increasing restrictions and caution came on so slowly? It took years for me to realize how sensitive I was to gluten. Even so, it’s clearly bothering me more now than it ever has before.

It was my therapist who pointed out what should have been obvious: I was grieving. It’s natural to go through the 5 stages of grief multiple times with chronic illness. After all, we don’t suffer a single loss, but many losses, which come up at different times.

Thinking about this several days later, it occurred to me something else that should have been obvious: the reason this is happening now is because I didn’t have the capacity to grieve before. I didn’t even have the capacity to acknowledge the magnitude of my loss before. I was busy surviving. I gave up gluten just a few months after leaving my job. At the time, I still hoped to return. During the next year I realized I would not be going back to work any time soon, I eliminated even more gluten from my diet, I found a naturopath, I researched new doctors for my thyroid care, I signed up for government benefits, I hired a lawyer, and more. I didn’t have time to care about giving up gluten. Besides, back then I thought it was just a matter of giving up some foods. I didn’t yet know all of the other things I would be giving up.

Over the following years, I continued to research treatments, doctors, tests, and more. I dealt with government benefits, changing apartments, and other logistical issues. I started businesses and had them fail. It was a busy time, and I remained in survival mode.

And then it slowed down, in a way. I am not looking to move right now. My benefits are stable for the moment. My health is always a concern, but with the latest addition this summer of hydrocortisone, my brain fog has lifted and my energy has somewhat improved. My health felt more stable for a bit, my mind was more clear, and I was able to think. At the same time, in the past year I have come to realize more than ever just how cautious I must be about gluten. The two came together and hit me hard, all at once. It’s no wonder I’m grieving.

Add to all of that one additional fact: the permanence. All of my health issues are permanent, but there are degrees. My pain will never go away, but it could improve. My fatigue may or may not ever go away, but there’s hope that it will, or at least that it will improve. I can work towards these goals. But when it comes to gluten, there’s no way I will ever be able to tolerate even the tiniest crumb again unless there is some medicinal breakthrough. Maybe that will happen, but I can’t count on it. Right now, there are no treatments on the market. That means I can’t let down my guard at all, and possibly never will. Again, it’s no wonder I’m grieving.

The important thing now is to let myself grieve. I have lost a lot, and I have years of it all catching up to me at once. This is hard, especially for someone who prefers to avoid unpleasant emotions, but I know it’s important. So these days, I am trying to sit with my feelings, to acknowledge them. It’s not easy, but I know that one day the worst of the grief will pass. I may never again be able to kiss my mother on the cheek, but one day I will come to accept it and it will make me less sad.

Do you grieve your chronic illness’s impact on your life? Please share in the comments. Sometimes it helps just to share what we’re going through.

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Trying to be careful without getting in my own way

September 18, 2019

I am super sensitive to gluten. I have known that for a long time, but it amazes me every time I get glutened. One time, the culprit seemed to be some grapes that someone (who had been handling bread) picked up and then put down, and which I then ate without realizing (until it was too late) that they had done that. This last time, I think it was gluten on my own hands that did me in.

Last month I wrote about starting a new medication and the difficulties in getting my doctor to increase my dose. What I didn’t know when I wrote that piece was that I had just been glutened. That might explain some of my increased anxiety, though not all of it. It definitely explains why I wasn’t responding enough to the medication. As soon as the gluten symptoms went away, I felt how much the new med was helping. That took 19 days. Yes, 19 days. Yikes!

For the first week and a half or so, I barely left the house. Then I started to venture out a bit as needed. The final week I was mostly ok, at least enough to resume most activities, despite the extra pain, fatigue, and bloating. After almost three weeks, the symptoms subsided. The thing is, once I realized that I had been glutened, I tried to figure out how it happened, and there was no obvious culprit. I had not eaten a single thing all week that didn’t come out of my own kitchen. I quickly narrowed down the possibilities:

  • Something labeled gluten free actually had gluten in it.
  • I didn’t wash some produce carefully enough.
  • Twice I ate a meal outside of my home. I brought the food with me. Maybe I got crumbs on the container and transferred those to my hands somehow, and then ate something with my hands.
  • I ate a sliced apple and after a slice or two I realized I hadn’t cleaned my hands.
  • I had a hair on my tongue. I did my best to remove it without using my fingers, just in case they were contaminated.

These all suck. They suck because I am already being so careful in each of these areas, yet I got glutened anyway. There’s no doubt that it was gluten, the symptoms were very clear. I will never know for sure how it happened, but I know that all of these are hard to avoid in the future.

Before this latest glutening I was incredibly careful. I promised myself that this wouldn’t change anything. I would continue to be as careful as I had been before, and I wouldn’t try to control things more. It’s not healthy for me to be so hypervigilant. It takes a severe toll, emotionally and physically, and it doesn’t stop me from getting glutened. It can’t. I will get glutened many more times in my life. I try to keep it as minimal as possible, but there’s only so much I can do, and I have to be realistic.

Yet I have found myself being even more careful over the last few weeks. I hate it, and I am trying not to let this control me, but I don’t know how to do things differently. I don’t want to get glutened again if I can help it, and knowing that it’s inevitable to some extent isn’t enough to make me relax when I am out and about.

For example, I played a card game with friends. They were all eating appetizers and cookies, and I was very aware that they were probably transferring gluten onto the cards that I was touching. I made sure not to eat anything without first washing my hands. That’s fine. The problem is how anxious I felt about touching the cards to begin with. It made me anxious to know I was getting gluten on my hands. I feel like my own body is constantly unsafe whenever I leave my home, and that’s no way to live.

I am trying not to worry about the many ways in which my own home is not completely gluten free. I am sure that my phone is contaminated from being out in the world. I don’t clean every item that comes into my home. Grocery packages probably have gluten on them. My purse probably has gluten on it. My winter jacket will probably have gluten on it. My library books probably have gluten on them.

And there is nothing I can do about any of those things.

I must learn to stop being scared of gluten. Yes, it can hurt me. It could even kill me. But I have to continue living my life, and I can not do that if I am always afraid.

I am trying. It is not enough, but it has to be enough for now. Because what other option is there?


Would it be different if I weren’t a woman?

August 21, 2019

I started a new medication. My doctor and I had discussed beforehand that the dose I wanted based on my research was higher than what he suggested. We agreed I would start at his level, then go up only if needed.

For the first two days I felt absolutely horrible. I increased the dose and felt less bad. I increased more and felt better. So I stayed at the higher dose for a bit. It still wasn’t having the effect I had hoped for, but I needed more time, and the higher dose meant my prescription would run out early. I messaged my doctor to get a new prescription.

My doctor said he didn’t remember discussing the higher dose and thought I should be on a lower one. We went back and forth several times in email. I was anxious: challenging doctors can be problematic. I don’t want to be considered a “difficult” patient. I want my doctor to like me so he’ll help me more. Many doctors dislike being questions. Many people dislike being questioned in general, of course, but doctors often have big egos, and are treated like they know it all.

As I talked to my therapist about my anxiety, I discovered two interesting things. First, she helped me connect my anxiety to the way some medical practitioners had treated me in the past. It all made sense when she connected the dots. In fact, it seemed obvious, but I hadn’t seen it.

Second, as I spoke, I said that this wouldn’t be a problem if I were a man. I didn’t even realize I was thinking that; it just popped out of my mouth. And the instant it did, I knew it was true. I had an imagine of the conversation I’d had with my doctor in his office when he prescribed this medication. I thought about how I presented my own research and his reaction to that. He wasn’t entirely dismissive, but he didn’t really consider it, either. And I felt that if I were a man, he would have actually listened to me and considered the merits of what I presented.

Am I right? Who knows. I can’t test this. But here’s what I do know: it is documented that women and men are treated differently by medical professionals. You can read about it here and here, among other places. Sometimes I wonder if this entire journey would be different if I were a man. I’m not saying men have it easy. They are often maligned for “giving in” to symptoms, and they are discouraged from expressing and dealing with the complicated emotions that come from living with chronic illness. Still, I wonder. Would I be taken more seriously? Would I get of the tests I request, less resistance to the treatments I want to try? Would a doctor still have refused to give me a medication in my late 20s because it would cause infertility, even though I told her I was willing to risk it?

Obviously, I have it easier in many ways, too. I am cisgender, petite, white, and well-spoken. That gets me farther in a lot of situations, including medical settings. I am bisexual, but most doctors don’t know that, just as most don’t know that I am Jewish. Still, this question about gender weighs on me.

I am curious, what experiences have you had in medical settings that you think may have been different if you presented as a different gender? I’d love to hear about them.


When you’re not the “right” kind of poor and disabled

August 7, 2019

I just learned about a program for low income and disabled folks to get internet access for $10 per month from Comcast. Too bad I wasn’t eligible, despite meeting all of the criteria. You see, I’m not the “right” kind of disabled and poor.

I looked at the list of requirements for the program. Despite only needing to check off one box, I could check off many: I am on Medicaid, getting SNAP (food stamps), on Section 8 (a housing voucher), and in the Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program (for help paying utilities.) But I’m not eligible. Why? Because I’m not a new customer. You see, it doesn’t matter how little money you have coming in, if you aren’t new to the internet, then you aren’t eligible for this program. Comcast is the only option for internet service where I live and the least expensive plan is $79 per month. It bothers me when I pay my bills every month, especially since the service I had in my last apartment was better quality and only $45. Still, it’s the only choice for internet here, and I consider internet a necessity for as long as I can afford it. Lowering it by $65 per month (accounting for taxes and fees on the new plan) would make a huge difference, though!

I’m not the “right” kind of poor and disabled for a lot of government and other programs either, though I have managed to get quite a few accommodations, for which I am very grateful.

I am so not the “right” kind of disabled according to a lot of people out there. After all, I can mostly walk without any assistive devices, and that’s their only consideration. I mostly look healthy, especially if you don’t look too closely. That’s all that “counts,” as far as they are concerned.

But that’s not the reality. The reality is that I spent all day feeling like crap, not even managing to get dressed until 2pm, because I had to be out of the house most of the previous day for medical tests. The tests were easy, but the travel too and from, plus being alert and interactive, was just too much for me. I came home exhausted and in a ton of pain, and had to spend the next day recovering.

The reality is that I have a lot of money in the bank, and I am so grateful for that. But I also know that the only reason my totals appear to go up is because my investments have gone up. It’s not real. When the market turns, as it always does, those numbers will go way down, and I won’t have any job income to offset the fall. I am thankful for my social security payments, but they don’t cover enough.

For a minute last summer, my benefits covered all of my basic expenses, which meant if I earned a little money from dogsitting or something, I could use it to go out to eat or buy clothes, and not have to take money out of savings. I would need those savings for a bigger expense, like to replace my car or to move, but for everyday things, I was ok. And then a couple months later I lost my food stamps. I had to start taking an expensive medication that insurance didn’t cover. And once again, for basic monthly expenses, I was taking money out of savings.

My savings are my safety net, but I know they won’t last forever, especially if I have to take out money just to cover the basics. So no, I’m not really poor in the typical sense. Yes, there are people who need the help more than I do right now. On the other hand, without these benefits I receive, I would quickly run through my savings. Then I would be in a dire situation, because the benefits wouldn’t cover all of my basic expenses and I would no longer have savings to make up the difference. Then what would I do?

And that is the crux of the issue with the “right” kind of poor and disabled. By the time we meet that definition, things have deteriorated to the point where the help no longer helps the way it would have earlier on. For example, one day I will need knee replacement surgery. Right now I do physical therapy and wear knee braces in order to put off the need for the surgery. If the problem was caught sooner, I could have avoided years of pain. So now I could ignore my exercises and forget the knee braces and get the surgery right away, knowing that it will have to be repeated every decade or so. Or I can use the supports I have now and put off the surgery, in the hopes that I will only need to have it done a couple of times throughout the rest of my life. I choose the latter. But imagine if I didn’t have a choice. Imagine if my only option was to repeatedly have the surgery. That’s what these programs want. They want us to get the point where we no longer have better options, and then maybe they will help us.

I am lucky. I have the option to keep pulling money out of savings to pay for basics. These days, my basics are rent, utilities, groceries, medical expenses, gas, car insurance, and car maintenance. Everything else is an extra, including a meal out, a gift for a friend or relative, or a new sweater. I get help for some of those necessities, like rent, utilities, and groceries. Still, my benefits only go so far, and my medical expenses are high, since a lot isn’t covered by insurance. Without savings, I would be choosing which of those necessities to get rid of and frankly, I don’t see anything on that list that I’m willing to live without (the car is necessary where I live now and even before, when I lived near public transportation, I was often too sick or in too much pain to take it and would have to drive instead.)

So screw the folks who only want to help the “right” kind of poor and disabled people. We all deserve help, and these programs should be available to those who need them.

I want to add a final, important note. I doubted myself. Maybe I was being too harsh? Maybe it’s good to limit these programs to only the most needy among us? Maybe I’m being selfish? Self doubt is a big problem for a lot of people, and it comes up a lot for folks with chronic illness. Personally, I was told for years that I wasn’t “sick enough” to get help, and that ended up making me a lot sicker. If only I had been diagnosed and treated a decade earlier, I might not be disabled now. I might be able to work full time, and these money issues wouldn’t be on my radar. So yes, I still doubt my needs. And then, while I wasn’t sure if I should hit “publish” I went over to Facebook, and saw a bunch of comments on a post I had made about this program. Several folks were really excited to see it, then disappointed to learn they weren’t eligible because they already had internet through Comcast. Those who were able were already talking about switching to another provider, with the plan to switch back in three months in order to get on this program. Because yes, there are people with internet access who have health and money issues and who need the help. We need help, not gatekeeping. This is a federal program, and should be open to everyone. And that is what made me decide to publish this post after all.

What do you think? Should programs like this be available to everyone who is low income, even if they have internet access already? Are the restrictions reasonable or bullshit? Please comment below, because I would love to know what you think.


Acknowledging the pressure

July 23, 2019

“You’re feeling a lot of pressure.” When my therapist said those words, everything clicked into place. Yes! That’s what I was feeling and unable to acknowledge for myself, much less express to her, but she figured it out. And suddenly, it all made sense.

It’s hard enough to feel ill all of the time, but I also feel responsible for how I address my illnesses. I go to 5 different doctors and get 6 different opinions. I do my own research and figure out a course of action, but no doctor will order the tests I want or the prescription that I feel will help. I try to sort through all of the possibilities, the research, the unknowns, the assumptions, the inconclusive data. I talk to experts and I ask questions of other patients. I look at as many resources as I can. But at the end of the day, it’s up to me, and me alone, to decide what to do.

That’s a lot of pressure!

I want to feel better. I want to feel as well as possible. I don’t know what that is. Would that mean I was well enough to walk 3 miles? To finally get and care for the dog I’ve always wanted? To attend a wedding without having to leave early? To go out 3 nights in a row without becoming so ill that I can’t function for days afterwards? What is a reasonable goal? I don’t know. No one knows. But still, I aim to feel better, whatever that might be.

And as I aim to feel better, I must make myriad decisions. It’s scary and overwhelming. I have a bit one coming up in a day and a half and yes, I am overwhelmed and scared. I have a lot of research to do between now and then. I worry that my doctor might not agree with the approach I want to take or vice versa. I could be wrong. I won’t know until I try this new medication. This is my health, my one and only body, my life. If I get this wrong, there are no do-overs. The result would be damage that is likely irreversible. On the other hand, doing nothing will also result in irreversible damage, which means I have to do something. And I am the only person who can ultimately decide what that something will be.

So yeah, that’s a shit-ton of pressure. And I hate it. At least now I recognize it for what it is. I am learning to sit with my feelings. Still, the pressure is intense and it’s real. This is my life that I’m deciding about. I hope I make choices that improve it.


Feeling a mysterious new contradiction

June 19, 2019

Last night I went to a Meetup group for the first time in 7 or 8 months. The folks there greeted me warmly and asked what I had been up to, and why I hadn’t been around. And the thing is, I found it hard to answer, even to myself.

I had been thinking about that before I went. At first, I was busy. Then I didn’t feel well. Then I felt better, but I was trying to catch up from not feeling well. It was never a priority – yes, there were times I could have gone but chose not to. But also, lately I have either been feeling too ill to go out, or else I’m feeling pretty good and I’m using that opportunity to catch up on household chores, fun projects, and spending time with close family and friends.

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Most recently, the surprising thing is that for the past month or so, I have been feeling so much better, while at the same time I feel that I am struggling more than usual. This is new to me, and hard to wrap my head around, much less describe to someone else. The closest I have come so far is a battery metaphor, since this is mostly related to energy and fatigue (though other symptoms play a role, too.) My battery never gets to 100% anymore, and probably never will. But lately I feel like I struggle to get my battery as high as it had been. If prior to the past month it sometimes got to 65% on good days, now it never gets above 50%.

But here’s the surprising part: it goes down more slowly. Before, it wouldn’t take much for me to go from 65% to 50% to 40%, but lately I feel like I can do a lot more at 50% before I drop down to 40% or lower. It’s an odd feeling. I’m more tired on my best days, but I can do more because I stay at 50% for a lot longer.

I want to know what this means. Is it a sign of improvement or a sign of deterioration? I believe it has to do with going off of an adrenal supplement. The goal was to stop the supplement for 2 weeks so I could take a test, then resume it. The first few days were horrible, but then I actually started to feel better. I had to put off the test for an extra week because of scheduling issues, and by then, I wanted to see what would happen. After all, I really did feel better than I had in a while. Now it’s been 5 weeks and I am anxiously waiting for the test results. What will they show? Will I need to go back on the supplement? Will I instead need the prescription that we were contemplating? Or is my body better off on its own? I am figuratively chewing my fingernails in anticipation.

My body is a series of mysteries. Sometimes there are answers, but far too often I never find out what is going on. I have learned to accept that for the less pressing issues (though sometimes I later find out they were more important than I had realized) but since fatigue has been my most disabling symptom for many years, this is tantalizingly close. I can almost feel the answer to the mystery dangling in front of me, but I can’t quite reach it. I am aching to know, though, if I am improving or deteriorating. Could I be on the verge of a breakthrough? Or is it the edge of a downward slide? Maybe the iron infusion that I had dreaded is having an affect? My fear is that the test won’t give conclusive results, and I won’t know why I feel this way or how to proceed. I should find out any day now, and until then all I can do is wait.

I see doctors constantly, and when they ask how I have been, it is almost always hard to explain. But now the answer is that I feel both better and worse at the same time. I hope they can help nudge towards more of the better.

 


Insurance that won’t cover medication

May 10, 2019

I have always been financially independent, meaning I supported myself. I worked in nonprofit for my entire career, so I never earned a lot of money. Still, I lived frugally and made it work, while managing to save money. Then I became too sick to work. Suddenly, money became a big problem.

Social security, fuel assistance, and food stamps helped, but they weren’t enough. I was pulling money out of savings every month. Thankfully I had savings, and enough that I wasn’t on the verge of ruin, but not enough to last me indefinitely. I tried to work multiple times. Each time I increased my hours, I got sicker. Some weeks I could manage 5 hours of work. Some weeks 10 hours. But if I tried to work 10 hours per week for two weeks in a row, it was a disaster. Even 5 hours per week wasn’t sustainable over time.

Then last year, I got Section 8! (For those outside the U.S., Section 8 is a housing subsidy. These days, the wait list to get Section 8 can be 10 years or more, and the restrictions for using it are very strict. With this type of Section 8, you pay no more than 1/3 of your income on rent, and the government covers the rest.) I was in shock. I thought I would be on the waiting list for several more years, but out of the blue, I reached the top of the list. Finally, I could cover all of my basic expenses with my benefits! I would still have to take money out of savings if I wanted to go to the theater, eat dinner with friends, buy clothes, or pay for car repairs, but this was still a huge improvement. It lasted about a minute.

Less than two months later, I got kicked off of food stamps. They said I earned $20 per month over the limit. I had no idea where that number came from, because I wasn’t close to the limit. So I did the paperwork and sent it in. I got food stamps back, but the same month I started a new prescription. It has to be compounded, as probably all of my medications will have to be from now on. That’s the only way to get this particular medication without any corn or gluten in it, which is a medical necessity for me.

Unfortunately, Medicare doesn’t care that it’s a medical necessity; they refuse to cover compounds. At $150 per month, this is obviously not in my budget. I appeal and was denied. I found an amazing patient advocacy group that helped me with a second appeal at no cost. My patient advocate helped me in many ways and this time my appeal included a 1000 word letter about why I need this medication and how it helps me, a more thorough letter from my doctor, and more of my own medical records.

And I was denied. Again. I can continue to appeal but it won’t help. Compound medications by their very nature are not FDA approved, and Medicare won’t cover anything that isn’t FDA approved. So I’m stuck.

Again, the good news is that I can afford this. I have savings. The bad news is that savings only goes so far. And every time I need to add a new prescription (I will probably have another in the next month or so) it will most likely need to be compounded. The costs might vary, but it won’t be cheap.

I take a lot of supplements and visit a lot of medical professionals. I spend about $600 on healthcare despite having great insurance. I take only ONE prescription medication and yet my insurance won’t cover it, so now I need to increase my medical spending by 25% to cover this additional $150 per month.

For a few weeks I could cover my expenses without dipping into savings or having to ask my parents for money. It was glorious. If only Medicare worked the way it should, I would still be in that position. Instead, I am watching my savings slowly go down month after month and it’s terrifying. But I need this medication to live.

Now please excuse me, I need to go call in a refill of my medication.


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