In between medical and clumsy

June 20, 2014

I wonder if it will leave a scar?

I suddenly wondered just how many times I’ve had this same thought in the last few years?

Oops!

Oops!

Now I’ll admit, I was never what you’d call graceful, and I certainly couldn’t dance, but when it came to my hands, I was pretty coordinated. I played musical instruments. I juggled really well. You know that trick of patting your head with one hand and rubbing your stomach with the other? I could do that without a hitch, and I switched my hands easily.

And then I started having trouble. For most of my life I was a truly horrible cook. Really. No kidding. Just dreadful. But a few years back I finally learned how to cook and I did ok. Until I started cutting myself. I’d laugh off a slip of the knife, ha ha I’m so clumsy, but when I had to throw out part of an apple crisp because I got blood in it, I knew there was a problem. There were cuts, burns, and spills. Last week I cut my fingernail off with the knife. I’m just glad it was only my fingernail! There’s some sort of disconnect between my brain and my hands these days. I can feel that it’s tied into the brain fog, but I can’t think it through well enough to get beyond that. That figures.

Last night I had meat cooking in one pan and veggies in another. I was doing really well with the cutting. Maybe my cutting success made me let down my guard? All I know is that I reached for the handle of one pan, and somehow pressed my finger into the edge of the other pan and it took a second longer than it should have to realize what I’d done and to pull my hand back. It hurt, but I didn’t think too much of it until a few minutes later when I noticed the skin peeling away. It hurts a bit, but it doesn’t look too bad. Mostly, it just feels bad mentally, because I know how it happened.

Then again, thanks to the brain fog, I can’t remember exactly what caused the other scars on my hands (though I’m sure it’s all related to kitchen brain fog) so I’ll probably forget this one too!


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.


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.


In search of chocolate and reasonable customer service

June 3, 2014

The thing about avoiding gluten is that it isn’t always obvious where the gluten is hiding. I do web searches, but often there’s no clear indication about the product I’m searching, or there’s something clear but it’s 5 years old. Sometimes a product is well labeled, but often it isn’t. And that brings me to my two-day search for chocolate chips.

A different cake made by my aunt

A different cake made by my aunt

Chocolate itself usually doesn’t have any gluten-containing ingredients (though there are exceptions.) However, flour is often used on conveyor belts to prevent sticking, and that means that the chocolate isn’t actually gluten-free. If the chocolate package isn’t labeled, then, how do you know? The answer is that you call the company.

I decided not to have a birthday cake this year. Just having a party will be exhausting enough and I didn’t want to have to worry about stopping at the gluten-free bakery that day. I didn’t mind. Well, not too much. Then my aunt offered to bake me a cake! She’s always been so considerate of my food restrictions, and she’s one of the few who I trust to cook or bake for me.

The other day, with my party fast approaching, she emailed me a list of ingredients. She said she wanted to use Ghirardelli chocolate chips. Yum! I could find the info on the web site, so I called the company 6 times and each time I heard the same message about how no one was available and I should leave a voicemail and it would be returned. I left a message, but it was never returned. Not helpful.

With Ghirardelli not an option, my aunt suggested Callebaut. Again, the information I needed wasn’t on the web site. The first time I called, I got a message about how no one was available, etc. I didn’t leave a message. When I called later, I got a human being – success! Or so I thought. She needed a product number. When I said I didn’t have one, she said she couldn’t help me because they have multiple products. I asked her to tell me which of their chocolate chips are gluten-free, even if it’s more than one, and she said she couldn’t do that. Well, I’m not about to spend hours standing in a store aisle calling customer service numbers where I may or may not reach someone and reading off product numbers! That’s a #customerservicefail if I ever heard one!

Finally, my aunt said she could use Nestle, though it wasn’t her first choice. Maybe it wasn’t her first choice, but it sure was my favorite! I didn’t even check the web site this time. When I called I got a human right away. She didn’t transfer me. She apologized for making me wait about a minute while she pulled up the information. Then she read through multiple items and told me not only that they didn’t have any gluten ingredients, but that the equipment did not process wheat products. That was it. Simple. Straightforward. Easy. The way customer service should be.

I get that gluten-free folks, those of us with an actual medical condition and not just the ones doing a fad diet, might not be the most powerful demographic for companies to reach out to, but they still should. If they ignored every small group, they wouldn’t have many customers left. And really, it’s the right thing to do. Anyone should be able to find out if a product contains allergens. I understand that having a product number might be more convenient for them, but it’s just not realistic for customers. And it’s not necessary. If Nestle can be so helpful without a product number, then should the other companies have that same capability?

So it looks like I’ll get my birthday cake, and it won’t make me sick. Too bad it was so hard to get the information I needed to begin with!