What did you do today?

September 30, 2014

To the uninitiated, it sounds like such a simple question: “What did you do today?” And really, it is simple. It’s the answer that’s complicated.

Some days the answer is complicated because the day was spent dealing with symptoms, but other days the complication comes from a reality that is so different from that of my peers. That’s how it was one day last week.

I’ve started dating someone, and I’m trying a new approach: honesty. Ok, filtered honesty, but I’m trying not to filter too much. The filter is limited to certain symptoms. There’s no need to mention pooping my pants at this stage of the relationship, for example. I’m trying to share everything else. But that gets complicated.

I asked “What did you do yesterday?” in an email this morning and he responded by telling me about getting together with some friends after work. Yeah, that’s what my answers used to look like, too. Not now.

When he asked me last week, I answered honestly: I bought groceries, did some medical research, pulled together paperwork for my food stamps application, and washed a bunch of dishes. I did a few other niggly things, but those were the main ones. Groceries and dishes are familiar to most of us, but medical research and food stamps? Um, not so much. He was surprised when I mentioned the food stamp paperwork (actually, it’s called SNAP now, but whatever.) But when he thought about it, of course he realized that if I don’t have much income coming in, then of course I qualify for and need food stamps. As for the medical research, he has no idea how much time I spend on that. I tried to explain a little bit. He loves that I’ve taken matters into my own hands by doing my own research. He just doesn’t understand how hard it is. He doesn’t know about brain fog. I’ve tried to explain it, but he hasn’t witnessed it (it hasn’t been too bad since we started dating, and I usually hide it well.) Besides, you can’t really understand brain fog unless you experience it yourself. He doesn’t see how exhausting reading can be. He doesn’t know that I don’t just read an occasionally newspaper article – I follow blogs and Facebook groups, I read news articles and web sites. I read entire books from the library. I spend so many hours on this, it would shock him. He’ll learn in time, I’m sure.

And that was just that one day. He hasn’t asked about today yet, but it’s a similar mix: I cooked (ok, I threw ingredients in the crockpot, but it counts, right?) I rescheduled two doctor appointments, I’m writing on this blog that he doesn’t know about yet, I prepared paperwork for my fuel assistance meeting tomorrow, I prepared paperwork for my medical appointment tomorrow, I looked up the best routes to get between the two appointments (I can’t remember the last time I had two appointments in one day!), I pulled my winter clothes out of the closet and packed away my summer clothes, and I rested. I rested a lot. Because all of that was exhausting! I still have so much more to do, but I know it won’t get done. If I can muster the energy, I’ll do my physical therapy exercises tonight. I have done them in a while – not since before my grandfather died. I need to try. Maybe in a few days I’ll find the energy to finish going through my clothes. Right now, my suitcase and duffle bags are are open on my bedroom floor with clothes spilling out of them. My drawers are too full. I have sweaters on top of the dresser because I haven’t found a place to keep them yet. I have pants on the bed that I need to try on. What I don’t have is the energy to deal with any of that.

And yesterday? Yesterday I straightened up my apartment just a bit, did a bunch of dishes, went to a doctor appointment, bought a new winter coat (yay!), and then came home and collapsed in exhaustion. Somewhere in there I also managed to write a blog post about the suckiness of this month and probably do a couple of other things that I have since forgotten about as those memories have been lost in the fogginess of my brain.

And those are just three sample days. Sure, some days I deal with less health-related stuff. But other days I deal with so much more. Friends are surprised when I mention yet another doctor appointment, picking up more meds, or any of the other random acts that I no longer consider unusual. Actually, what surprises them is not that I do these things – after all, they know about my health problems – but my nonchalance. They can’t understand my attitude when I mention getting bloodwork in the same way that someone else would mention picking up milk at the store. But that’s just it. For me, they are the same. Medical care is more than just routine. It’s like breathing.

No, wait, I was wrong. They are different.

I can’t drink milk.

Now it’s your turn. What did you do today? Or on some other typical day? And how to friends react when you mention it?

5 Comments | Educating, Expectations, Fatigue, Relationships: Family & Friends & Dating & Sex | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

Health insurance should cover a bidet for anyone with a GI illness

September 21, 2014

Sometimes things get messy… down there. It happens. And when you have diarrhea on a regular basis, including explosive diarrhea, maybe it happens a bit more than healthy folks might expect.

As recent readers know, the last few weeks have been especially difficult for me. Still, I’ve been pushing through. I was doing ok, but the last few days have been incredibly rough.

And so I wasn’t feeling great this morning as I read my Facebook feed and slowly ate my breakfast. The stress was getting to me. I’d barely the last 3 nights. I was pretty sure I was all cried out…. at least until the funeral tomorrow. Who knows what that would bring. And how would I make it through the day? The funeral, sitting shiva, the long drives…. would I make it? I tried not to worry about getting over to be with the family again today, figuring I could rest all morning and afternoon and head over much later. I wouldn’t even get dressed, just stay in my pajamas until 3pm. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about how my grandfather looked when I visited him on his deathbed less than 48 hours ago. I tried not to think about the hell that my mother and her siblings were going through. I tried to remember the good times. And there were so many good times. I am endlessly thankful for that.

I sat there feeling pretty good emotionally, all things considered. I was hanging in there physically. I was doing ok. I was going to make it. And then instead of feeling gas released by a fart, I felt poop. Yes, I was pooping my pants. This has happened a couple of times before, but with all of my recent improvements GI-wise, I thought it wouldn’t happen again. But it did.

I bolted from the chair and ran for the bathroom. I took just a couple steps and realized the room was fuzzy. One part of my brain knew the problem, and of its own accord my hand reached up, pulled off my reading glasses, and threw them down. I never broke stride. I made it to the bathroom. Most of it ended up in the toilet. It was just liquid. I felt weaker than before, but I managed to wash out my favorite underwear (how unfortunate!) and my favorite fleece pants (just as unfortunate!) but my ass still wasn’t entirely clean. Things had gotten messy, and thanks to my joint problems in my hands, wrists, and shoulders, it was hard to clean up. Worse than what I usually have trouble cleaning up. So I got in the shower.

I stood in that shower for a long, long time. I hadn’t wanted to shower so early, or maybe even at all today. Showering takes so much energy, and that wasn’t energy that I had to spare. But what were my options? So I stood in that shower and thought, not for the first time, about how much I wish I had a bidet. I used one once when I was in Europe and I liked it. I’m pretty sure if I had one now, I’d be using it often. There are so many days when it would help, but few as bad as today.

We don’t talk about this kind of thing often. But a few weeks ago I was talking to a friend who also has GI problems and we talked about those uncertain farts, and how we can never be sure if they’ll really be farts, or if we’ll end up pooping our pants. I was relieved to hear I wasn’t the only one dealing with that, but sad for her that she has the same problem. And why shouldn’t we discuss it? Yesterday, after hearing about my grandfather’s death, I stood in the shower and cried – sobbed, actually – for ages. I felt my nose start to bleed, but I only stopped crying when I felt myself choking on the blood. By the time I got out of the shower I’d forgotten about my bloody nose until I brushed my teeth. I looked in the mirror and saw the blood dripping down. And I feel like I can talk about that, so why not talk about gastrointestinal problems?

So I’m throwing it out there right now, so all of my fellow CI-ers can remember that if you have similar problems, or maybe something entirely different that you find embarrassing, you’re not alone. We all have our stories. We might not talk about them publicly, but we have them.

And if you’re looking for a safe space to share your own otherwise-embarrassing stories, just post them here in the comments. I won’t judge. (And you can use an anonymous name if you want.) Remember, you’re among friends. And at least a few of them have pooped their pants.

15 Comments | Expectations, Fatigue, Gastrointestinal, Isolation, Limitations, Rants, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

Dreaming of meeting people to date

August 7, 2014

I’ve never been followed by legions of suitors. That’s just not who I am. I’ve seen it happen on tv. I’ve seen it happen to friends. But it’s never happened to me. And I’m ok with that.

But there was a time when I dated. Maybe I didn’t date often. Maybe I didn’t go out with a new date every week a la Sex & The City or Friends. But I dated.

But that was in the old days, when I was healthier. When I went out. These days, I stay in most evenings. Evenings are tough for me. When I do occasionally go out in the evening, it’s a real effort, and I only do things I know I can handle, like quiet evenings with friends at someone’s house. This is fun, but it doesn’t exactly lend itself to meeting new people. Sure, I’ll occasionally meet someone new, but usually my friends’ friends are already in relationships. What I need is to really go out. I need to attend meetup groups where I can meet single people. I need to get used to flirting again. I need to feel comfortable enough in my body that I’m not constantly wincing in pain.

I’ve worried in the past about meeting someone who could handle my health issues. I’ve finally come to believe that there are people out there who would not see my health problems as major obstacles. But how will I find those people? I know plenty of people who were ill before they married their current spouse, but usually they met their spouses when they were well enough to leave the house. Where would I meet someone now? At the grocery store? In a doctor’s waiting room? Sure, those are possible, but I’m not exactly counting on them.

After years of fearing any sort of commitment (for reasons completely unrelated to my health,) I’m finally ready to be in a serious relationship. I’m ready to meet that person who makes my heart flutter. If only I could leave the house enough to actually find them.

Note: I sincerely hope that one day my regular readers will see me writing about improved health, dating, a relationship, travel, a job of one sort or another, and the other things I’ve been hoping might still be possible some day. I haven’t lost that hope, even if some days I feel a bit discouraged.

13 Comments | Expectations, Fatigue, Frustration, Limitations, Pain, Rants, Relationships: Family & Friends & Dating & Sex, Symptoms | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

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!

8 Comments | Expectations, Fatigue, Frustration, Limitations, Rants, Symptoms | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

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