Watching dawn

April 19, 2018

The first time it happened, I was baffled. Waking up during the night isn’t so unusual, but staying awake for hours before falling asleep again is beyond odd.

It happened a bunch of times, but finally I got into a good sleep pattern. Between my CPAP for sleep apnea, various supplements, good bedtime routines, etc., I was doing ok as far as sleep went. Not fantastic, but ok.

Until a couple weeks ago. At least 5 times in the last 2 weeks I have woken up during the night and stayed awake for a while. Sometimes I have thoughts swirling in my head. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breath with my CPAP on. Sometimes I’m in pain. But always, I’m awake. Too awake.

This morning, not for the first time, I saw dawn break. I’m not a morning person, and I have only ever voluntarily seen dawn 3 times in my life: once because I knew it would be beautiful to see dawn over the Atlantic ocean where I was staying and so I woke up super early to see it, once on an airplane where the time difference made it easy, and once when some friends and I stayed up all night talking and laughing and watching movies (ah, youth) only to discover as we finally turned out the lights that it was actually getting light outside already. That’s it. The rest of the times have been far from voluntary.

Like this morning.

Last night went something like this:

  • Wake up.
  • Realize something isn’t right.
  • Look at the clock.
  • Look at the readout on my CPAP and realize I only wore the mask for an hour even though I had slept for 3.
  • Put on CPAP mask.
  • Try to shut off the thoughts running through my head. I’m not stressed out, just too awake to stop thinking.
  • Try to sleep.
  • Finally give up on sleep.
  • Go to the bathroom.
  • Drink water.
  • Try to sleep.
  • Can’t sleep.
  • Read a book for a while.
  • See that it’s getting light out.
  • Feel sleepy.
  • Notice that it’s 6am.
  • Debate staying awake for the day at this point.
  • Remember that I have only slept for about 3 hours, and only 1 hour with the CPAP.
  • Put on the mask and go back to sleep.
  • Wake up to a loud noise and feel tired and irritated. Why didn’t I shut off the alarm when I was awake during the night?
  • Snooze the alarm.
  • Sleep for a few more minutes, then give up and stay awake. At least I got to sleep for another 2 hours.

That was bad. Even worse was trying to focus today. I didn’t get out of bed until 10am. I was awake, but dragging. When I got up, the world had started the day without me. People kept texting me. I responded, until I just couldn’t manage it anymore. A friend was trying to figure out where we should meet up the next day, but I couldn’t handle making decisions. It was hard to focus. Wait, did I say that already? Everything was a bit tough to grasp. Everything was exhausting.

A friend suggested I call a doctor, but who? I saw my sleep doctor recently. There’s nothing more to be done. I have a complicated condition that’s hard to treat, and they’re doing the best they can. There’s a medication that could help. One. And it’s in a class of drugs that I’m allergic to. I take supplements that help, but not consistently. Medical marijuana helps, but I don’t want to use that every single night. So I just have to try and stick it out. It sucks.

Now it’s night again, and almost time for bed. Tomorrow night I’m going to a show that I have been looking forward to for months. I have the ticket. I have plans to go with a friend. So please please please I just need to sleep through the night with my CPAP mask on all night long. Please. If I do that, I know I’ll be able to function.

If only I had a choice.

Leave a Comment » | Expectations, Fatigue, Frustration, Limitations, Rants, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

How dare insurance not cover my specialists

March 27, 2018

24 years. If I’m remembering correctly, I have had gastrointestinal problems for 24 years.

First it was ignored. I didn’t think to tell anyone. And I didn’t know that diarrhea wasn’t normal, that not pooping for days at a time wasn’t normal, that nausea and pain weren’t normal. So I suffered in silence.

Then I saw a doctor who wasn’t helpful. I drank prune juice for the constipation and that got me through the worse of it. Sort of.

Another doctor said I had IBS and gave me a prescription.

Years later I went off gluten, then a bunch of other foods. That helped a lot. The episodes that had been coming more frequently backed off. I no longer found myself in the fetal position from gastrointestinal pain 3-5 times a week. Now it was only 1-4 times a month. Only. Hmm.

The problem was, the episodes continued, and my emotional response to them got worse. I found myself thinking more and more often about how I would prefer death. I only thought that way in the middle of the episodes, when I am already in too much pain to seriously consider killing myself anyway, but still, that’s not good.

I never think about death when I have joint pain, even though that pain is much worse. There is something about the nausea that triggers these thoughts now.

Recently I had an episode that was especially bad. I called a friend and neighbor, who came right over. But even his dog, who he kindly brought, wasn’t enough to help me. I sobbed while curled up on the floor, unable to sit up, unable to think clearly, but knowing I needed to not be alone. Eventually the worst of it subsided. But it was enough.

After that, I finally decided to pay the money for the stool test that had been recommended to me. When I saw my doctor the next week, I was shocked to learn that the test was actually covered by insurance! Wow! I took it home, read the instructions, and realized I needed to go off of a couple of my supplements for 2 weeks before I could take the test. So I waited. And waited. And finally it was time, but my joints were acting up and I just didn’t have the mental bandwidth to manage the pain and the test at the same time.

And then, finally, I took the test. For 3 days I scooped poop into a cup. Joy oh joy. But I did it.

It took time for the company to process the test. Then more time for my doctor to get the results, and for the results to be sent to me. But now, finally, months later, I have the results!

And I have no fucking clue what to do with them.

Some aspects of my gut are in balance, others are not. My doctor was honest: there was nothing he could suggest except to take a probiotic (which I already take, but which I had to stop taking for several weeks before the test) and so he wanted me to see someone with more expertise. I appreciate his honesty. That’s why I see him.

There’s just one problem. He recommended 2 different practitioners. And neither are covered by my insurance. At all. Not one penny.

So now I’m considering paying. The one who looks more promising based on her experience is $217 for the first visit and $188 for each followup. I have no idea how many visits I’ll need.

I have the money. And to be honest, if I’m going to spend money, this is a good thing to spend it on. I save as much as I can these days, but really, why am I saving it? To take care of myself. And if I can fix this problem, avoid these episodes from now on, why wouldn’t I do it?

So once again, I am going to pay out of pocket for my healthcare. My insurance is fabulous when it covers my care. But when it doesn’t, I question what is wrong with our system. No one would question that I need help. There is obviously something very wrong. I have limited my diet, tried pills, and followed doctors’ orders. And yet, I still have episodes that have me curled on the floor thinking that death might not be so bad. I need help. And I am so incredibly lucky that I can afford to pay for it.

What if I was one of the ones who couldn’t?

4 Comments | Frustration, Gastrointestinal, Healthcare, Limitations, Medication, Pain, Rants, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

It takes skill to injury yourself the way I do

March 27, 2018

The other day I woke up to find that I had wrenched my shoulder in my sleep. It felt like it was partially dislocated. Sometimes it felt fine, and then I’d try to put on a shirt or reach for something and there’d be searing pain. I didn’t fall. I didn’t pick up something heavy. I slept wrong.

Everyone hurts themselves from time to time. A stubbed toe or a paper cut are the hazards of daily life. No big deal. But then there’s this other level that shows up when your body is out of whack. Being out of whack makes me more prone to these kinds of injuries, and sometimes they make no sense.

Like the time I wiggled my toes and injured a tendon. That was a month ago. It still hurts.

I’m skilled, I tell you. Totally skilled. I mean, it’s not the average person who could give themselves a long term toe tendon injury, with daily pain, just by wiggling their toes!

And do I go to the doctor for any of these injuries? No. Of course not. Because I’d be going All. The. Time!

Don’t get me wrong. I do take big things seriously. When I dropped a chef’s knife on my foot a couple years ago, I went to the emergency room for stitches, and later had surgery.

But no, I don’t see a doctor for every injury. Just like I don’t see a doctor for every new gastrointestinal symptom or new pain or new type of fatigue. What’s the point?

So I’m waiting these out, hoping they’ll eventually go away on their own. They often do. Like the time I finally went to the doctor for the unmistakable nerve pain, to be told I had a pinched nerve and should go to physical therapy. I didn’t have time. I asked if not going would cause long term damage. She said no. So I didn’t go. Eventually it fixed itself. If it hadn’t, I’d have gone.

So many of us have far too many medical issues already, so we try to ignore the little ones. But it sure would be easier to ignore them if we weren’t so skilled at creating new ones constantly!

Leave a Comment » | Expectations, Healthcare, Pain, Raves, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

The things we do for our health

February 26, 2018

As I sat on the bathroom floor scooping poop into a plastic cup with a wooden stick 2 hours ago, I thought about how some people can go their entire lives without ever having to do this. Lucky them. I’m not so lucky.

I really really really didn’t want to do a stool test, but much more than that, I really really really couldn’t stand to keep having these episodes. I can handle the gas, the bloating, the constipation, and the diarrhea. I don’t love them, but I can handle them. But I can’t handle the nausea. It just does me in emotionally.

I have had these kinds of episodes since my teens. When I removed gluten and corn from my diet in my early 30s, they became much less frequent. Instead of 2-4 times a week they were *only* 2-4 times per month. Still, that’s far too often. The symptoms changed, too. Some got worse and some got better. And over time, I accepted it, to a certain degree. At least it was less often, right?

The thing is, the nausea, the fatigue, the rest of the symptoms all come on together. I never know when it will happen. Is it my diet? One night I feel fine and another I’m a mess, even when I ate the same thing both times. Maybe it’s something else? I have tried diets, so it’s time for the next step.

Someone suggested this particular test to me. I asked my doctor and was shocked to learn that insurance will actually cover the cost (a rarity for many of the tests I ask for.) His office gave me the kit, and I put it off.

First I needed to do an adrenal test – the fatigue was a more concerning symptom. Mentally and emotionally, I could only handle doing one at a time. It took a few weeks before I could schedule that test, since I had to change some things about my medications to prepare for it.

I gave myself a week, then decided to do the stool test. I read the instructions and learned I had to be off probiotics for 2 weeks before the test. I stopped taking probiotics. 2 weeks later, I was sick. I waited. I finally felt better but my schedule was a bit busy. I knew I needed to be home and not rushed for this. My schedule cleared and I went to take the test. I read the instructions again and saw that I had to be off another of my supplements for 2 days. I went off those. I felt sick again. Then if I did the test, I would finish on a Saturday, and it has to be mailed Monday-Friday, within 24 hours of finishing. I waited a couple more days.

FINALLY it was time! I was nervous and not wanting to do it, but I did it. Because I had to. Because I need answers. Because each time I have one of those episodes, I start to wonder if I would be better off dead. The only times I feel at all suicidal are doing those episodes. I don’t know why. They last for hours that feel like weeks, but never more than a few hours. The pain can be so much worse and last for so much longer, but it never makes me feel that way. These episodes have to stop.

So I did the test. It was a 3 day test. For 3 nights I had stress dreams about the test. The first day I realized it wasn’t fun, but not nearly as bad as I’d expected. But still, I had the dreams. They woke me up at 5:15am today. I want to believe it was worth it.

I finished the test just a couple hours ago. The samples are sitting in my refrigerator (carefully packaged, of course) and ready to be mailed when go out this afternoon. And then I wait. And wait. And wait. It will only take a few weeks to get the results, but it will feel like so much longer.

After many months of procrastination, then another 6 weeks of mostly legitimate delays after I received the kit, I finally feel SO CLOSE to potentially having some answers. I don’t want to hear I have parasites or infections to deal with, but those might be better than a lifetime of these episodes that make me literally want to die, that I can’t predict, and that continue to get worse over time.

So yes, I scooped my own poop into plastic containers multiple times. That’s something most people never even consider doing. But maybe, hopefully, it was worth it.

 

Leave a Comment » | Expectations, Frustration, Gastrointestinal, Healthcare, Rants, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

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