There’s no such thing as a quick swim anymore

June 26, 2017
pool-690034_1920

I wouldn’t mind being able to do this!

When I moved to a new apartment a few months back, a lot of friends were excited for me that I now had a pool. They were a lot more excited than I was.

I lived in a building in a pool once before. It was about 15 years ago. I was living in sunny Los Angeles, where pools are more common, and I was in much better health. I swam regularly during the months when I had less work (and more time.) It was lovely!

But this is not that. This is different. My new friends in the building often invite me for a quick swim. They have no idea what that really means for me.

  • Driving to the pool seems silly, but it’s 1/3 mile away, which is sometimes too far to walk, especially in the summer air.
  • If it’s too cool, no one wants to swim.
  • If it’s too hot, I can’t be outside, even in the pool.
  • If it’s too humid, I can’t be outside, even in the pool.
  • I must bring a lot of water and snacks, even for a “quick” swim, to stay hydrated and keep my strength up.
  • I will be in a lot of pain afterwards.
  • I will be in a lot of pain the next day.
  • I will be exhausted the next day.
  • I might have to cancel all of my plans for the next day so that I can rest and recover.
  • I won’t be able to cook that night, so I need to have leftovers available for dinner.
  • Obviously I can’t swim if I have plans later in the day, because I’ll need to rest.
  • I need to take extra meds if I’m going to swim, which means I have to know about swimming far enough in advance to take the meds.

There’s more, of course, but this gives folks a good idea of why swimming for me isn’t the relaxing, care-free, spontaneous, fun activity that it is for my neighbors. There are many things in our lives that get ridiculously more complicated, painful, and exhausting once chronic illness enters the picture, like grocery shopping. The big difference is that swimming is completely optional. Sure, skipping the pool hurts my social life a bit. But it helps my LIFE life a lot!

I’m not saying I won’t go swimming at all this summer. Only that the logistics have to be just right. I need to know the right people will be there so I’ll have, I need to be feeling good that day and not have other plans in the next day and a half, the weather has to be just right.

It’s not easy. But then, few things are when chronic illness is involved. So yes, I will be the “spoil sport” who skips the pool. I can live with that. Because I’ll live better for it.


When the best medicine is taking care of someone else

June 17, 2017

Today started out rough. I felt like I did too much on Wednesday. Thursday I did less, but probably should have stayed home to rest. By Friday I had no choice but to spend all day at home in my pajamas, watching tv and crocheting. So this morning, I was glad to feel better than yesterday, but I still didn’t feel great. And yet, I didn’t want to cancel all of my plans.

My evening plans had to be cancelled. I knew I had to get to bed early. But the afternoon plans – a friend coming over who I already cancelled on at the last minute last time – I didn’t want to cancel again. So I rallied and got dressed and waited for her to arrive, knowing it would be a quiet day and I wouldn’t have to leave my apartment.

When she came, she had the start of a migraine. Unfortunately, she had switched purses and didn’t have the over-the-counter medication that helps her. I didn’t have it either. I offered to go to the store, but she said no. So I messaged a bunch of neighbors. No luck.

I got her a cold pack for her head. I made her tea. I shut off the lights. Eventually, I insisted on going to the store for her. So much for staying home. But the funny thing was, I felt ok.

After taking the med she slowly started to feel better. I got her food and kept on eye on her, making sure she was doing ok.

I have noticed this kind of thing before. Obviously, there are times when I’m not at all able to care for someone else, or when caring for someone else will make me feel worse. But then there are other times, times like today. Times when I’m not doing great, but I’m not doing horribly either, and taking care of someone else gets me outside of my own head, distracted from my own condition, and eventually I even begin to feel better.

I feel bad my friend had a migraine. I wish that hadn’t happened. Still, it was a good reminder for me:

Sometimes the best medicine is taking care of someone else.


Why socks are stressful

April 27, 2017

My friends saw the socks lined up in my drawer and they laughed. I guess I understand. It does look odd, after all.

They had taken the drawers out of my dresser so the dresser would be easier to move across the room (because my friends are super awesome like that) so they noticed the socks.

I had only lined up my socks a couple weeks earlier and I was already loving it. Now it’s been more than 2 months and I’ll never go back. I can see all of my socks at a glance, and I can easily grab the ones that are right for that day. This is important, because choosing the right socks can be stressful.

Yes, I’m talking about socks. The things that go on your feet.

IMG_20170427_215806

One morning 12 years ago my toes were swollen and painful. It was hard to walk. I saw specialists, had tests done, and it was never figured out. The only thing that helped was Prednisone, and that’s not a long term solution. Over the years, the swelling and pain came and went, sometimes at random, sometimes obviously triggered by heat. Until a few years ago. A few years ago the swelling came and it stayed. I don’t know why. No one knows why.

The amount of pain varies. I wear special orthodics, the only shoes I wear are sneakers and boots, I’m super careful. But there’s only so much I can do.

The more swollen my toes are, the harder it is to wear shoes. Or socks. On cold winter days sometimes I can’t wear socks at all, so I sit in a chair and wrap a blanket very loosely around my feet to keep the warm. It’s not ideal, but what else can I do?

Some socks are tighter in the toe, others are looser. I try different brands, always searching for the “best” socks for my poor little toes. Summer socks aren’t too hard in general, but winter socks tend to be tighter, plus they’re thicker, which makes my shoes feel tighter. But I can’t wear summer socks year-round because it’s simply too cold for that. Thanks to Raynaud’s, the circulation in my fingers and toes isn’t good, and my toes get very cold very easily. I also have to be careful not to wear warm socks on days that won’t be cold, because my toes could easily overheat, and then they’d become even more swollen and even more painful.

We all have these calculations we make in our heads a thousand times every day. When to take pills, which foods to eat, whether my fingers can manage the buttons on that dress today, can I walk in the sun or do I have to stay in the shade. For me, which socks to wear is just another calculation. Still, it’s one I struggle with Everything. Single. Morning.

I became inspired to line up my socks as I was reading an organizational book. I put warmer socks together and cooler socks together. Then I organized them by how loose or tight they are around the toes. It’s been amazing! No more hunting through my drawer each morning looking for the “right” socks for the day. Now I just decide on the weather and how swollen my toes are. If it’s a cold day and my toes aren’t too swollen, I can go for those cozy red socks. If it’s a cold day but my toes are more swollen, the soft purple socks will do.

It seems silly to an outsider. But to me, it’s one of the thousand daily health calculations I make that’s been made easier. So it’s worth looking silly. Because it works.

 


Why first person I turn to is Dr. Me

April 24, 2017

It feels like everyone with chronic illnesses has their own story of medical mismanagement. That leads to everyone having their feelings about doctors and the medical establishment. For me, it lead to a combination of distrust and dismissiveness. Which is why it wasn’t until I had a bad reaction that I realized I should have run things by my doctor. But it just simply had never occurred to me to talk to him about it.

My own story of medical mismanagement has to do with crappy insurance, insular establishments, poor practitioners, and a lack of communication. In hindsight, I still can hardly believe that in 11 years of symptoms, my doctor only sent me to a rheumatologist ONCE, and that was only to rule out lupus. The next time I saw a rheumatologist was by my own design, and I was diagnosed within a few weeks.

As it turns out, the test he used to diagnose me had been run several times before, with results that weren’t high enough for a diagnosis, but that were high enough that they should have been flagged. But no one told me about it, and my primary care physician didn’t keep track of it. So the ball was dropped.

Over and over the ball was dropped. It was dropped when I went to my doctor asking to be tested for lactose intolerance. He told me there was no such test (a lie!) and to keep a food journal. Then he showed the journal to a nutritionist (supposedly) and said that it showed I wasn’t lactose intolerant. That was it. No followup. No tests. No referral to a specialist. A few years later I was “diagnosed” with IBS. I remained sick. I was often underweight. I the pain, nausea, and diarrhea were getting worse. 12 years after the lack of a lactose intolerance test, I told my current doctor that I wanted to be tested for Celiac. She said there was no point, that I clearly didn’t have it, and the tests weren’t accurate anyway. She offered no other suggestions, tests, or specialist referrals. So I went gluten free on my own and saw results within a few weeks. 6 months later, with the help of my new naturopath, I made more changes to my diet. Finally, after 20 years of nausea and other digestive symptoms, I was “cured.”

I could tell you dozens of stories like this, but the stories themselves aren’t the point. The point is that I found little use for primary care physicians. They rarely treated my symptoms properly. The rarely gave me the right referrals without a lot of nagging from me. They were supposed to coordinate my care but never did. So what was the point of them? I kept them because insurance required it, that’s all.

Recently I was having a normal day, when I was hit by a wave of nausea. Then my pulse spiked. I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I took my pulse many times. At one point it was 114. That’s not good. After 45 minutes or so, it hit me: I was having a hyperthyroid incident! A minor hyperthyroid incident is scary. A major one can kill you. So yeah, it’s good to take these things seriously. I immediately called my doctor, arranged to take the blood test the next day (since the office and the lab were about to close in 10 minutes) and lowered my medication.

When my doctor, and later other doctors, asked what caused the hyperthyroid incident, I was able to give them a short list of likely reasons. They agreed with my assessment. And the question kept coming up: why hadn’t I told my doctor about the change I’d made to my adrenal supplement dose?

The answer: because I never thought of it.

I knew I would have to lower my thyroid dose to account for the new adrenal dose. I had planned to do that the next week. My body just responded to the change faster than I had expected. My naturopath was working with me on this, and she hadn’t expected such a quick response either.

This wasn’t the first time I had changed that supplement. But I had never discussed it with my doctor.

The funny thing is, for the first time in my life, I have a PCP I like, respect, and trust. But I didn’t tell him.

Because decades of dislike, disrespect, and distrust had trained me not to.

I should have told him. I know that in hindsight. And I hope that next time I will. But who knows? I have very good reasons to be so dismissive of PCPs. No one argues with that (except my doctors, of course.) Maybe one day, if I have enough good experiences, I’ll learn to trust them. Maybe.

In the meantime, I continue to default to my own opinion, at least in areas I have researched (like my thyroid and adrenals.) It has served me pretty well so far.

After all, I chose to lower my thyroid dose after that incident. I hadn’t had the blood test yet. I didn’t know for sure what had happened.

Then the test results came back. I was very hyperthyroid. My doctor’s office told me to lower my dose immediately. But that was days later. The delay could have been dangers.

I had made the call myself, and it was exactly the right decision. Because Dr. Me knows my body better than any other doctor ever will.


Why am I having flashbacks?

April 11, 2017

Something happened the other day that scared me, and it finally occurred to me that I should talk to you guys about it!

I’m keeping this short and to the point.

For several years now, from time to time something will trigger me to very strongly remember a medical experience. The memories are strong, but they’re just memories.

Then the other day, it wasn’t just a memory. It’s what I’m guessing is called a flashback. I wasn’t confused. I knew I wasn’t in the doctor’s office. I felt like I was there. I could see the nurse standing over me. I could feel my arm outstretched as she looked for a vein (while in real life it wasn’t stretched out at all.) And I got all of the same symptoms I’d had at that time – the dizziness and jumpy vision among others, all while I knew it wasn’t real, it was a memory or something. Each flash was short, but then it would come back (the trigger remained for a while.) As soon as the trigger was gone, I felt fine. Shaky and confused, of course, but fine.

Afterwards, I figured out what triggered this. But WHY was it a flashback?

For years I have assured people I don’t have PTSD. I’ve read the descriptions many times and I don’t have it. But maybe I have something else?

I don’t have a therapist and I won’t have one any time soon. After all, this only happened once. And therapists are expensive. And my past therapy experiences weren’t good, so it’s not like I’m feeling like one will help me.

But the thing is, I want to know what’s going on. A label might help, because then I can look into ways to prevent it, or at least ways to handle it if it happens again. Coping mechanisms.

Has this happened to you? If so, what caused it? What do you do about it? Please let me know, so maybe we can learn from each other!


When even medical professionals don’t get it

March 30, 2017

There are the medical people I know in my personal life: a distant cousin, an aunt’s in-laws, friends of friends. Sometimes it’s just a random person I meet to hears about my health issues and lets me know they work in the medical field.

Some of these people are awesome: understanding, supportive, helpful. And some make me want to scream by thinking they can offer me advice. People I barely know, or maybe don’t know at all, tell me what I should do for my health. Or worse, they don’t understand that I really am sick.

But then there are the worse ones: the medical folks I see for my own treatments who Just. Don’t. Get it.

cat-1739091_1920

Usually I walk away. If they don’t understand, then I don’t want to waste my time. But this latest one is a tougher situation.

It’s my physical therapist. For one thing, she means well but she’s scatter-brained. She asked me if I’d tried a particular yoga pose. I said no, I was told not to do yoga. She was surprised. I pointed out that she told me not to do yoga just a few weeks ago. Things like that. When I walk in, she has no recollection of what we did last time, even though I know she writes notes after every visit.

She also does a good job overall. And there’s no one else to see. It took years for me to find her! I searched for ages for someone to do this particular type of treatment (easy) that my insurance would cover (almost impossible.) One of my insurances covers her and she’s giving me a break on the other. I really appreciate that. She’s been so kind about it. And she does a good job.

But then she wants me to exercise more, to make sure I build up a good sweat. I try and explain how adrenal fatigue works, how that could be dangerous. She wants me to talk to my other doctors to make sure I’m really not supposed to be doing it. You know, in case we hadn’t already had this conversation 80 bazillion times. In case I misunderstood. In case I don’t know my own body! So frustrating!

And then yesterday she grabbed my wrist for the millionth time. I know this is just a typical maneuver. I know she does this automatically because she’s done it so many times before with countless other patients. But she’s a physical therapist and she needs to take each patient’s needs into account and I don’t know how many more times I can tell her not to do this before I completely lose my shit.

Because I’ve been clear. I’ve said it hurts. I’ve explained that I have a long history of pain there. I’ve said that it upsets me. Yesterday I calmly talked about it after the appointment. I explained the emotional trauma a bit. She tried to say there was no need to explain, but I figured hearing it might help her to fucking remember! 

I don’t usually swear on this site, even though I do in real life. Not a lot, but enough. I can hold back when I think it will offend people. Usually. But not today, because this is SO UPSETTING to me!

I have 25 years of pain in my wrists. It was my first symptom. But that’s not the reason it upsets me so much. No, it’s because of how I was treated. Doctors did horrible things to that wrist and to me. I had to start off my explanation by saying, “I don’t have PTSD but….” Because while it’s not PTSD, I do have a panic response. I told her that there is no one in this world I trust to touch my wrist, and that’s true. There are some people I trust to touch near it, and some don’t make me panic as much, but I don’t trust anyone. Not even my mother, my best friends, my past lovers. And certainly not medical professionals!

So we’ll see if she listens. If not, I might have to take more drastic action. But for now, we’ll see.

I try to be patient but she’s a medical professional. She should know better.


I couldn’t remember how I “got better”

February 23, 2017

It’s not like I’m “healthy” by any means. But compared to 5 years ago, I’m a different person.

If you were reading this blog 5 years ago, you know that I was struggling to get through each day. If I went grocery shopping, I’d be so exhausted that I wouldn’t leave the house again for the rest of the day, or the next day either. I’d rest up for 2 days so I could spend an afternoon with my family, then I’d need 2 more days to recover. I didn’t leave the house much, and when I did it was really tough. I researched my health issues and began to find answers. I would read 3 pages in a book, fall asleep, wake up having forgotten what I’d read before, and have to start over. The brain fog made it hard to understand any of the medical concepts and I often had to read the same paragraph 5 times. It took ages to get through one book, but I did it. And I learned from it. And then I started the next book.

So how did I get from there to here? Here, where I can go to the grocery store, read a chapter in a book, and cook a meal all in one day, while still feeling ok. It’s like a miracle!

Someone asked me today about medications I’d taken. We’d just met, but I’m obviously open about my health conditions and she’s in the medical field, so she was curious. But the thing is, I couldn’t remember.

Later, it started coming back to me. The diets. The supplements. She asked about prescriptions, but those weren’t what did it. Except the thyroid medication. I’d forgotten about that. Oh yes, that helped a lot. Getting rid of the daily nausea did wonders. And the supplements, slowly over time, began to work. Of course, I forgot about the sleep apnea diagnosis. First the CPAP machine, then the ASV machine (similar to a CPAP, but with different air flow) did wonders for me.

I guess the brain fog still rears its ugly head, because I honestly could not remember any of that in the moment that she asked. I think every day about how much better I’m doing. I am so happy, grateful, appreciative. There are a million “What ifs” for how I might not have improved. But I did improve. Thank goodness.

So the next time I can’t remember how I did it, I will remember to read this blog. These 5.5 years of writing are like my medical diary. It covers all of the big moments, good and small. Not to mention the hell of dealing with benefits (my food stamps got cut off again last week! For crying out loud! I got them back, but come on….)

The thing is, I couldn’t remember today how I managed to improve. But I didn’t forget that I had. I didn’t forget February 2012 when I first cut out gluten. I didn’t forget falling asleep while I struggled to read a book about hypothyroidism. And I didn’t forget how grateful I am for the improvement.

I remembered the important parts. I blocked out the struggle.


%d bloggers like this: