Category Archives: My story

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What’s gone wrong in your system?

I got the results of my sleep study test yesterday. I spend about 15% of my night in deep and REM sleep and these should be around 20%. Also, I have a form of sleep apnea. There are three different kinds (I can’t remember the names): the most severe kind is when you stop breathing for a full ten seconds or more ~ I don’t have this. The second kind is when your throat relaxes to the point that you are not getting enough air, but it is a partial restriction ~ not full apnea. And the last kind is when this throat closing causes your brain to wake up to rectify the situation. I have the latter two. He said my brain is waking up an average of 49 times an hour. This has me in an aroused, wake state a lot, obviously, and it also causes my sleep cycles to be interrupted, so, even if 15% of my sleep is deep, it’s broken up throughout the night, which isn’t as restorative. So, I get to use a CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine! Seriously, I’m going to sleep with the Zeo headband, a mouth guard and a face mask? Wtf? That’s a pretty sight. But, please god, let it help me feel marginally better.

He also said, “Have you had your ferritin level checked?” “Yes, two months ago. It’s in your computer.” He looked it up: “Oh, it’s low. You should be on a supplement ~ that’ll help you feel less fatigued.”

Now, let me tell you how much this pisses me off. The crappy chronic fatigue clinic ordered this test along with zinc (which is also low). The results came back two months ago and nobody called to tell me what it meant. My regular GP saw the result of the ferritin, also, and didn’t tell me to do anything about it. Mine is low and I don’t have a period. If I had a period, it would be far lower, the sleep doctor said. So, I could have had TWO MONTHS OF SUPPLEMENTS UNDER MY BELT BY NOW IF SOMEONE HAD JUST REVIEWED THE RESULTS AND CALLED ME. I am raging mad! This has happened at every single step along the way this year. Nobody communicates with the patient. Actually, the front desk people do ~ schedulers etc. ~ they’ve been pretty good. And maybe one or two nurses. But is there a doctor out there that says, “I am testing you for X, Y, Z and, when I get the results, I will call you and explain them. I don’t think you have A, B, C and this is why:…”?? How dare they! I don’t know why the ferritin has me all riled up. It’s just that he put me on a heavy-duty supplement (ferrous gluconate 648mg/day), so obviously I need it and it might make a difference. Actually, the reason I’m so annoyed is this has happened so often and can have more serious consequences. I won’t get into the details, but my husband had a test that the doctor said was negative, but we have access to our results online, so, I looked at the results and googled the test and did the math and said, “uuummm, I think this is positive, not negative.” He emailed the doctor and, sure enough: “Oh, yes, sorry, it is positive. We need to treat you for that.” Say what?! I know they’re only human and I know they’re very busy and I know the whole healthcare system is a mess and maybe the doctors are just as frustrated as we are, but what if we didn’t have access to our records? I never would have found the mistake. And that’s just one of countless mistakes. Please, everyone, be your own best advocates. Call for your test results, request copies of every test you get done, review them yourself and point out anything that looks odd. And, pay attention to any result that is in the low or high range of “normal”! Normal has never been normal for me. My TSH was in the low range of normal for years as two giant goiters grew and strangled my thyroid until it wasn’t working anymore. My ferritin was technically in the “normal” range, but the doctor said it was too low. Et cetera, et cetera, blah blah blah.

Ok, on to other stuff. WordPress shows me what internet searches led people to my blog. Yesterday, 6 out of 14 searches were for MRI info, so it makes me really happy that I expended the energy to write my tips. I hope it helped someone out there.

My wash-out period ended on Tuesday, but I haven’t added anything back in because I felt like such shite, I didn’t think I’d be able to distinguish my disease symptoms from any symptoms new foods caused. Maybe I will add rice today. The Good Doctor says we are looking for “stark sensitivities, so worsening of mood, fatigue, energy, pain.” This is really hard. I was feeling pretty good last week and then, without warning, I was a mess. If I had added rice in that day, would I think rice had caused it?

I’m back to using the light box and I’m starting acupuncture again next week. I’m going to try all the supplements again, as well as melatonin, Lyrica, and the Chinese herbs. I just don’t know in what order… I guess I have to add all the eliminated foods back in before I start anything else to gauge my reactions… This is so tedious and time-consuming. I used to love Thanksgiving and Christmas and now I don’t get to celebrate at all. I can’t eat most of the food, I have no energy to do special preparations and, even if I did, there’s no point in planning something when the activity and/or socialising will just cause me to crash. Wow, this life sucks.

On a lighter note, have I mentioned how grateful I am for my husband? He drives me to my appointments, takes the dogs to the park, fixes our roof, landscapes the garden, hoovers, cooks dinner, sprays IcyHot on my back and, above all, keeps a positive attitude.

Good times gone, and you missed them
What’s gone wrong in your system?
Things they bounce like a Spalding
What’d you think, did you miss your calling?

It’s so free, this kind of feeling
It’s like life, it’s so appealing
When you’ve got so much to say
It’s called gratitude, and that’s right

Good times gone, but you feed it
Hate’s grown strong, you feel you need it
Just one thing, do you know you?
What you think that the world owes you?

What’s gonna set you free?
Look inside and you’ll see:
When you’ve got so much to say
It’s called gratitude, and that’s right

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Spoke too soon. Again.

This is such a sick joke. I actually thought the last few days, maybe this is the beginning of the end. I think I’m going to get better now… What’s wrong with me? Am I going to spend the next 20 years thinking this is over every time I have a day when I’m able to move? I’m so angry about the tease. I’m so angry about the Catch-22: I can’t move without hurting myself and, if I don’t move, I’m hurting myself.

I had a horrible night’s sleep. Didn’t fall asleep until nearly 2am, had nightmares, awoke constantly, had drenching sweats. Today I feel like a truck hit me. All of my muscles feel inflamed. I’m hunched, I’m hobbling, I’m creaking, I’m wheezing. My spine is rebar, my eyes are embers, my head is a rotten apple.

But my mood isn’t plummeting into despair. It’s just sitting in anger, which, for me, is much more manageable. My stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) seem to be mixed up. You’re meant to go from depression to acceptance. I’m going backwards. I was in depression last month, denial yesterday and today I’m angry, so let’s get straight to bargaining: I would give a limb to be out of pain. I would give two limbs to not have this disease. No contest. I will never, ever work myself close to death again and neglect all my friends and family. I will do nothing but altruistic work for the rest of my life, if this is taken away. I could bargain for days.

Now I hope we can just jump over depression and get straight to acceptance.

 

 

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How My Illness Began … Part 1

[Although I’ve already posted an excerpt from my diary about those months at the beginning of my illness, I wanted to tell the whole story. It will have to be in increments because it is exhausting physically and emotionally to relive those days. But, I don’t want to forget them. Also, I realise that this was the beginning of what stopped my life in its tracks, but perhaps not the beginning of ME, so I’ll eventually have to write a prequel to this Part 1.]

I was sitting at our dining table at the beginning of November 2011, writing Christmas cards when I was hit with a wave of nausea, chills and exhaustion. Whoa, I’ve been at this too long, I thought. My husband was on the couch watching television, so I curled up on the recliner and fell asleep immediately. When I woke up an hour or so later, I knew something was very wrong. I was shuddering with chills, my teeth were chattering, I felt infected or infested.You have to come to bed, something’s wrong and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it back downstairs if I need you, I told my husband. I crawled to bed, he made me a hot water bottle. I was dressed, wrapped in a blanket, under the duvet with a hot water bottle, curled in a ball, shivering ~ practically convulsing ~ with chills. I tried for about half an hour to cover my ears, I thought if I moved my hand out from under the blankets, shifted my position in any way, I might die. I have found that severe chills are as debilitating as severe vertigo and severe pain. I fell asleep for a brief amount of time and, when I woke up again, I was drenched. There was sweat coming out of every pore in my body. And not just beads of sweat ~ rivulets of sweat. My bed was wet, I could have wrung out the sheets. Sweat ran down my legs, down my chest, pooled in my belly button, my back was slick. My ears were wet, my hair was wet, my knees were wet. I was flabbergasted. Never, ever had I experienced anything like this. Such an immediate and systemic response to a pathogen. I could only hope that this would be it and be thankful that the chills and sickness hadn’t lasted days. If the fever had already arrived and broken, then maybe this would be short-lived. I spent the rest of the night plunging in and out of fever dreams, shaking as violently as I had with the chills. In the morning, it subsided. I was spent, exhausted, traumatised, but I thought it was over. I was able to continue work that week. Besides being a little unnerved, weak and tired, I was able to get on with life. However, the chill/sweats cycle happened again a few weeks later… and a few weeks later. I finally went to my doctor. When this is happening, I told her, I feel like I’m dying. I know that sounds melodramatic, but, honestly, when I’m in the grips of it, it feels like there is absolutely no way I could manage going to work that week ~ maybe even month. It feels like I should be hospitalised. I asked her to test me for malaria because that was the only thing I could find in my research that had such debilitating, but cyclical symptoms.

As the end of the year approached, I got worse. I was pushing myself very hard at work, trying to wrap everything up so that I could take vacation days when my Mom visited. The episodes were occurring more frequently and leaving me progressively more sick and weak. I started working some days from home, dragging myself to the computer for 8 hours, over the course of the entire day, crawling into bed periodically when I couldn’t be upright anymore. Two days after Christmas, I was told the malaria test was positive, but they wanted to retest because I hadn’t traveled to a malaria country in over 7 years. My Mother arrived on December 30th. I was doing okay, I picked her up at the airport. That night, as we were sitting at the dining table eating soup, I was hit out of the blue with incredible vertigo. It was like being on a tilt-a-whirl, I gripped the edge of the table and looked at my husband, wide-eyed. Oh shit shit shit, WHAT IS GOING ON? Never, before or after, have I felt the room spinning so violently. I went straight to bed. I don’t really remember the next 5 days. I remembering waking up, hearing my Mother and husband downstairs watching the ball drop in Times Square. I lay in bed, nauseous, dizzy, chilled and sweating. I couldn’t eat, I clung to the walls walking to the bathroom, I just kept thinking, I don’t want to die. In the past, I had had food poisoning that could have killed me, gone into anaphylactic shock that should have killed me, passed out and had vital signs so low the EMTs’ field notes say they couldn’t get a blood pressure reading, but nothing made me feel like I was truly going to die like this did. I wrote goodbye letters to my family. I wrote down all of our passwords and account information for my husband, I wrote instructions for my funeral. I did all this with a pencil, lying on my side, under the covers, sure I didn’t have much time. At some point, in the middle of some night, my husband took me to the hospital to get my blood drawn because parasites are more evident in the middle an episode. But, from the beginning of the chills to the time they actually got around to taking my blood, 6 hours had passed, so I knew it was a wasted trip.
This took me a month to write. Stay tuned for Part 2.
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Forces pulling from the center of the earth again…

My Mother, in an effort to give advice on things that could help my mood and mental fortitude, pointed out that there is never music playing in the house and reminded me that my number one rule of life, written in fading marker on an A4 page taped to her kitchen wall, was: NEVER BE WITHOUT MUSIC. I glowered at her. “I’m too exhausted to go downstairs and find a cd.” “It might help bring some joy back into your life”, she suggested. I went back to grimacing silently in pain.

A little later, she tried again: “You could even listen to music on your phone?” “Yeah, I do, but it just makes me emotional and I’m trying NOT to be emotional. Every time I’m upset, my symptoms get worse. Every time my symptoms get worse, I get more upset. So, I’m staying away from music.” “Not all music will make you upset…”, she said. I think I growled in reply.

Four hours later, I’m alone in the house. I go out to the front porch and watch the warm, beautiful October day. I realise I haven’t actually listened to any music since September 13th when I was at the dog park feeling so good, before the Crash Of The Year. So, I put my headphones on and plugged into my “Guilty Pleasures” playlist. It’s the poppy or hip-hoppy, beat-heavy, fun stuff that makes me feel empowered — like I can do backflips, like I’m one of the stars of Grease/Fame/Glee, like I’m young and strong and athletic. And then… I was smiling. I was swaying. I was elevated. And, even though I knew I couldn’t, I was itching to run, to dance, to sing at the top of my lungs, to compete in the Olympics… And I had the thought: Fuck you, disease. I got this. You think a little pain and exhaustion is gonna do me in? You think daily flu will break me? I’m made of sterner stuff than that. You don’t get to ruin my life. I’ve got nieces and nephews to watch grow up. I’ve got dogs that need to be played with.

It feels like weeks since I felt a little bit of that strength, confidence, happiness. Mother always knows best.

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Fight For Your Life

I’m having trouble breathing, still dizzy, painful back and shoulders, stiff limbs, sore throat, constipation and IBS pain, shooting pains in the bones of my right arm that woke me up in the middle of the night (this is a new one), aching hands, no sleep, night sweats (not full-body, just from the waist up), BUT, yesterday turned out to be the best day I’ve had since the 13th. Not as good as the 13th, by any means, but better than the last 16 days of hellish crashing and constant sadness. I was able to stay up and watch a movie when I hadn’t even taken a nap. I dared to use my neck stretcher and my TENS unit, which I can’t do when I’m in extreme pain. And, when I went to bed without a headache, I felt the depression lift. Don’t get me wrong, I’m depressed about this situation, but I don’t think antidepressants are the answer for me. I am instantly a happier, more hopeful person when the physical symptoms ease up. My only fear right now is that my lungs feel like they do before I get a chest infection. Like all that stuff is clogging the alveoli, but it isn’t rattling or cough-upable yet.

I walked around the house 3 times the past 2 days. Not around the block, just around the house. It’s about 100 steps. My new plan is 3 times around the house for 3 days, 4 times around the house for 4 days etc. By November 18th, I will have completed 10 days of 1,000ish steps. I’m going to try coupling that with gentle stretches each day.

I’m trying to have this new attitude that I am going to fight for my life. That’s it. I’m in a battle for me and I’m going to win. Maybe I’ll never be the old me ~ maybe I’ll always be more fearful and less carefree than I ever was in the past ~ but I’ll be a wiser me, a more appreciative me, a simpler me. And one day I will stop lamenting what I lost and start to find joy in what I have. In the future, I hope that’s not such hard work.

Tomorrow I see my PCP (GP) after a 3-month hiatus. Tomorrow my Mother comes to visit for 2 whole weeks. I am grateful for my Mother. I am grateful in every cell of my body that I was blessed with a Mother who is also a best friend, confidante and mentor. I have never lived a day without the knowledge that I was wanted, cherished, supported and loved. Now, that is something to truly be grateful for.