Tag Archives: CPAP

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Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

I couldn’t decide whether to use this Robert Palmer song for my title or the equally cheesy and almost as ancient Thompson Twins song: Doctor, Doctor, can’t you see I’m burning, burning… Have to say, I like the latter better, but I don’t currently have a fever, so it didn’t win out. 🙂

I wrote this post yesterday before I launched into the exciting day of driving myself to appointments. It’s kind of unfinished, but I’ll publish it anyway and get on with resting up…

I got the results from the saliva and stool sample tests that I sent off almost a month ago. I don’t have the hard copy results in front of me yet, but the doctor called me yesterday and I took furious notes. Here’s the wrap up:

  • IgA antibody tests for milk and eggs were negative and gluten was 4 (he said they consider below 6 negative). These results could be because I am not sensitive or they could be because I am sensitive, but I haven’t eaten any of these foods in 7 months (almost a year for gluten) ~ and I’ve been very strict with no cheating. Soy came up as “equivocal”, meaning not negative but not a strong enough reaction to be positive. He suggested I stop eating soy to give my gut the maximum opportunity to heal in case it is causing inflammation or reactions. I don’t eat soy a lot, but the things I do eat with soy, I really don’t want to give up: namely, Vegenaise (I can’t have the eggs in regular mayo) and soy creamer in my tea (I’ve tried all other options ~ soy creamer is the best mimicker of milk in my black Irish tea). He said I have to watch out for soy lecithin, which is in a lot of processed food. My Earth Balance fake butter has soybean oil and soy lecithin in it, so he said I could probably use butter since people with dairy sensitivities usually do fine with butter (just to be clear: I don’t know if I have ANY sensitivities to foods, I am just doing this diet to help my gut heal, decrease systemic inflammation and increase good bacteria).
  • DHEA was 6 with a range of 3-10. He said that indicates that I am no longer in severe adrenal fatigue.
  • 17-hydroxyprogesterone was 22 with a range of 22-100. He said this indicates that I am in a high cortisol output state, but, because my DHEA isn’t extremely low, he thinks my adrenals still look okay.
  • H. pylori was low = negative.
  • When my stool was cultured for yeast, it was negative.
  • Estrodial was 8 with a range or 2-10.
  • Progesterone was 45 with a range of 20-100.
  • Chymotrypsin (a digestive enzyme component of pancreatic juice) was 12 with the range being >9. The doctor interpreted this as showing my digestive enzymes were okay and my pancreas is working.
  • No signs of parasites or infectious disease-causing bacteria like Campylobacter, Shigella, Salmonella, E. coli etc.
  • Levels of two enzymes (lysozyme and alpha-lactalbumin, I think?) that the gut produces when it’s irritated were low = good.
  • My bacterial balance still indicates gut dysbiosis, unfortunately (which, by itself can lead to immune dysregulation and both can lead to mitochondrial dysfunction). I am still low in friendly gram-positive bacteria and too high in gram-negative bacteria. He said I am doing everything right (bowel help, elimination diet and probiotics), so he is not sure why this is not getting better. But, he said keep doing what I’m doing.
  • The other significant result was the salivary cortisol test:
    • Morning = 16 Range 13-24
    • Noon = 10 Range 5-10
    • 4pm = 8 Range 3-8
    • 12am = 7 Range 1-4
      • Apparently, my pituitary is turned on all the time and my cortisol is not going down enough at night, which is probably why I am not sleeping well. He suggested taking phosphorylated serine (a supplement called Seriphos made by Interplexus), starting with half a capsule an hour before bed. He said this is an amino acid that will help turn down the cortisol.
  • Lastly, he said I should avoid genetically modified foods by trying to choose organic fruit and veg as often as possible. I kind of scoffed at avoiding GMOs, mostly because I didn’t want to think about ANOTHER thing to avoid, but he gave me a speech about what scary gene manipulations are being done and how many studies are suppressed by big money (ie: Monsanto), so… okay, I’ll take it more seriously. [There is such a ton of shocking information out there, that this subject needs a separate post all to itself.]

THEN I had an appointment with my new sleep doctor. I love him, thank god. Once again, I spent a few days this week weeping from the burden of this disease. Lack of sleep not only increases all the symptoms of ME/CFS, but it also causes the usual black fuzzy cloud of irritation that healthy people experience when they don’t sleep. My friend Z., who has a new baby, reminded me of this. Even healthy people are exhausted and overwhelmed when they are woken up throughout the night, night after night, so I’m cutting myself some slack. Having said that, after having quite bad diarrhea from the Valerian supplement I started last week (my body is SO tolerant), I was finally ready to consider a prescription sleep drug. Especially after reading this post over on Learning to Live with CFS.

Dr. M, my new sleep doc, gave me a few new options for sleep and then pointed out, “Note that I am not reaching for my prescription pad. We can go there, but not yet.” Low dose anti-depressants may be the answer, but I love doctors that try everything else first. It makes me feel listened to ~ respected. First he said, for very light sleepers, CPAPs can replace the waking problem of apnea with the waking problem of a foreign object attached to your face. Well, no shit! Finally someone who doesn’t say, you just have to work at getting used to the mask and it may take months.

Alien-Face-Hugger-01

Just get used to it!

He told me to add another mg of melatonin about 3 hours before bed and keep taking the 1mg right before I go to sleep. He recommended getting a custom-made pair of earplugs from a hearing aid store. They will cost about $100, but he said they will be a very good ~ and comfortable ~ investment. I should try going to bed a little later ~ he thought that I may wake up 5 times rather than 15 times if I went to bed closer to what I thought my natural sleep time would be (I told him, in a perfect world, I think my sleep schedule would probably be around 12am-8am). He warned that it sounded crazy, but putting a gel ice pack under my neck and head when going to sleep can help and, even better, take a bath 3 hours before bed and then do the “cool head” routine to really exaggerate the effect. He recommended I read Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight, more than anything to get some solace in the fact that I’m not alone. Finally, he thought we should try a dental appliance to replace the cpap since my apnea is mild (although, he did confirm that I have a physical apnea problem ~ not just heightened brain activity. He thought the throat narrowing is probably a congenital disorder that has affected my sleep all my life). This is not my dentist, but the page gives example images of dental appliances, if you’re interested.

Aside to my Dad: I KNOW, you told me so. But I wanted to give the cpap a fighting chance. Plus, I really liked breathing filtered air all night instead of dust mites and dog dander. Plus, I invested a lot of time and money getting to know the cpap life. Dr. M. warned that it won’t be a quick and easy transition to a dental appliance. The dental device takes time to make and, once I’m using it, it will take a few visits and a lot of tinkering to get it fit perfectly. He said it will shift my teeth a minuscule amount and cause some jaw discomfort, but it can ultimately help TMJ disorders, as well as apnea.

More later when I’m up to it. The snow from my last post is gone already ~ just in the time it took to edit this, maybe half an hour. So, new gratitude:

TO THOSE FRIENDS THAT HAVE NOT LET MY ABSENCE FROM LIFE SCARE THEM AWAY: THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE. There are no words to describe how much I have needed you and how you have buoyed each day and given me the strength to keep fighting this. Isolation is a killer and feeling like you’re not interesting/funny/able to contribute/able to participate can start to make you feel a bit worthless. If I’m not brimming with energy, quick-witted and able to talk about life’s new adventures, would I want to know me? So, you know who you are: I don’t take you for granted for even a single second. [Again, this subject needs a separate post all to itself.]

heart_beating

… love … love … love … love …

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Fish or Get Out of the Boat

I’m not up for writing, honestly, but I want to track a few things from the last few weeks. The Monday before last I had a follow up with the Good Doctor after 9 weeks. Let me just tell you, I love this doctor. I wish she were an expert in M.E., but she is the closest ally I have in this fight and I feel so confident in her hands. At least that was my feeling leaving her office. Now, looking back, I can’t remember much of what we talked about or decided. I told her I was a different person than I was the last time I saw her (New Year’s Eve). I want to remember that because I feel like hell today and I need to know that there has been progress. On New Year’s Eve I was just starting to feel better after the very low low of December. On Christmas Eve, while the men were in the kitchen, I told my sister that if things didn’t change, I couldn’t imagine going on. I was in such extreme pain and stiffness, that it was difficult to go through the motions of life, let alone find joy in the moments. As I’ve mentioned before, the muscle and back pain were horrid, but the headaches, coupled with the EXTREME noise and light sensitivity, were the main culprits. Well, cut to this last appointment with the Good Doctor and I have had over two months with hardly any headaches and much less pain, overall. What changed? I don’t know. Here are my theories:

December 1st: started Berberine
December 4th: started drinking only filtered water
December 11th: started drinking tart cherry juice concentrate every night
December 17th: stopped the birth control pill
Late December: stopped taking pain killers
January 5th: started vitamin B2 and selenium
January 6th: started cooking (once in a while) with coconut oil

I started feeling a little better on December 26th, but pain continued to lift through January. Sleep was better, too. I have been putting my faith in the tart cherry juice, but, honestly, I think it has more to do with eliminating the pill and pain killers.

Unfortunately, my sleep started to go downhill again and continues to decline. I fall asleep without any problem, I stay in bed 10 to 12 hours, sometimes I don’t remember waking up at all (although, most nights I remember 12 to 15 awakenings), but I hardly ever have proper, calm sleep cycles. I I feel like I am going insane. I was so thrilled the last few weeks that, although my nights were tortured, my days were staying okay. Until this past weekend. Today, I am so tired. I ache all over. I am back to moving like the Tin Man. I don’t recognise myself in the mirror. I think, for the first time in my life, I look older than I am.

The Good Doc’s plan for me is to try valerian for sleep and then move on to Chinese herbs and/or an antidepressant. She is the only doctor I’ve ever seen that uses psychotropic drugs as a last resort. She said, “Cymbalta is great for depression, but you’re not depressed.” I’m not. I’m not sad or hopeless. My mood is actually pretty good (as long as the bad pain stays away). She said, “It can help with sleep, but can cause insomnia, too, and it has a host of side effects that might set you back. So, let’s eliminate all other options first.” Love.

She also said I can try adding legumes back into my diet. I’m going to wait until after my period to eliminate any confounding variables caused from PMS… but, I might not even add them back at all. I have been on this diet for so long, I feel like I should keep it consistent while I try the Chinese herbs and sleep drug.

That Monday I also saw the sleep clinic tech to get a new cpap mask. It’s the most impressively designed mask that I’ve come across yet (Respironics Wisp), but it makes no difference, I’m still awake hundreds of times each night (literally hundreds ~ the sleep study showed I was waking up 48 times an hour). Last Friday, I went to see the rheumatologist I saw a year ago (literally ~ the doc pointed out I was there on the same date in 2012). The first thing he said was, “Why are you here? Chronic fatigue syndrome is an infectious disease.” My brain was so fried, I honestly couldn’t come up with any reason why I was there. I couldn’t for the life of me think what a rheumatologist does. I had gone to acupuncture beforehand and the Master had done a session that was meant to make me very tired so I could sleep well that night. It didn’t help me sleep that night, but it certainly caused me to be half-comatose in the hours after the appointment ~ I was slurring my words driving from acupuncture to the hospital and, after melting for an hour in the waiting room, I was far from the articulate, cogent, well-informed patient I pride myself on being… And the rheumy was a fast talker ~ a New York native, I think, based on the accent ~ and I was the last appointment of the week, so all-in-all, it wasn’t going the way I had planned. I think I said something like, “I’m not sleeping and I think it’s the fibromyalgia-type constant awakenings and I wanted to talk to someone who knew something about this.” He told me about the sleep study that Dr. Moldofsky conducted many years ago (I’ve now heard about this study from every single doctor I’ve talked with about sleep. It must be on every medical school exam) and then he said, “Try amitriptyline. You have to try something. I have patients that would rather limp in pain their whole lives than have knee or hip surgery. That’s fine, but you narrow the horizons of your life.” I know that is exactly how I would be: limping is a certainty; surgery is an unknown and full of risks. The doctor said, “As my father used to say, [for days I’ve been trying to remember the adage he used: fish or get out of the boat, catch something or reel it in, cast or go ashore… something like this].” I replied, “My Dad would probably say, shit or get off the pot.” And that was the end of our appointment.

So, the week’s round-up: After three nights, valerian is making no difference and I’m seriously considering turning to amitriptyline or cymbalta. My period is four days late. My skin is like braille. I’m swollen, tired and achy. BUT, for a few weeks there, I thought I was definitely making progress and that has given me much renewed hope for the future. I can do this. I shall overcome. Plus, every day without a headache is a good day. Pure gratitude!

First colour in the garden. Spring fever. :)

First colour in the garden. Spring fever. 🙂

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Ghosts in the Machine

Yesterday, my acupuncturist said, “This session should make you very relaxed and tired and you should sleep very well.” That prediction actually seemed to be true until 5am when the ghost in my room pulled and released the window blind and woke me up like a flash-bang detonated next to my head. I had been sound asleep, dreaming about Janis Joplin of all people. It’s one of those spring-loaded, black-out blinds and the sound of its uncontrolled retraction ricocheted off of every surface in the room and bounced around my cranium like a high-speed destructive bowling ball. After figuring out where I was and who I was and what had happened, I regained control of my fight-or-flight panting and was able to release my fingernails and toenails from their death-grip in the ceiling plaster. I lay down, trying to go back to sleep, but I knew that sun would come streaming in soon and I wake up from the glow of an alarm clock, so I had to make a move.

I stepped onto the chest below the window (climbing Mount Everest) and reached up in the dark to try to get a grip of the end of the blind, but it had wound itself too tightly to get my fingers behind an edge. Then I realised I was standing in my bedroom window naked and, if someone happened to be out there in the garden or my neighbour happened to have insomnia and was gazing out her window, they were getting an eye-full. I stepped down off the chest, put on my robe and climbed back up (Mount Everest again). After fiddling with the blind from every angle, I knew I wouldn’t make it budge without some sort of pliers to grip the end. I was also still shaking from the adrenaline and sweating from the exertion of standing up out of bed, climbing, reaching above my head… So, I gave up and went searching for my eye shades. Of course, they were in none of the usual places. I went into my meditation room and found my dusty back-up pair, knowing all these lights on and this rummaging was waking me up more and more. And worse: the dogs downstairs would think it was morning and, once they’re up, I’m screwed. That’s a combined total of 170lbs of hunger.

Back in bed, I lay trying to sleep for about an hour and, just when I was drifting off, the Rascally Robin started pecking at the window in our living room. I keep hoping it’ll stop and I keep forgetting to do something about it during the day, but EVERY MORNING AT AROUND 6AM this robin starts attacking his reflection in our window. I realise this wouldn’t wake up 90% of you ~ it’s a window on a different floor, for god’s sake ~ and I tried so hard to talk myself into believing it was just the soothing clickclack of a branch in the wind, but it didn’t work: I would start to drift off and it would wake me up every few minutes. Over and over. Torture. SO, I got up and closed my bedroom door. I know, this seems like an obvious remedy ~ something I should always be doing ~ but a closed door in our house is like a dog whistle. I could lie in bed all day with the door open and neither dog would have any interest in coming in, but, close that door and they are behind it scratching, whining and pacing back and forth, sure they are missing out on some awesome adventure.

Sure enough, as soon as I closed the door, got back in bed, put my eye shades on and settled down ~ just long enough for me to do all those things ~ there was a scratch on the door. And then a whine. I got up, let my dog in, let him on the bed, told him to shut up and then we both lay down and listened to the Rascally Robin pecking on the window downstairs. When it got a little louder, my dog started to get interested. He started doing that “aa-FUH” thing that dogs do ~ that half-bark puffing air through their lips. So, I started looking for the earplugs that my husband had gotten me ages ago. Up out of bed, rummage rummage, back in bed. The little packet only had one earplug in it. Not joking. Up out of bed, rummage rummage, got second packet, back in bed, insert earplugs. Now, picture this: cpap mask, medical tape over my mouth, my Zeo headband, earplugs and eye mask. Seriously?

The thing they don’t tell you about earplugs is, if you lie on your side in half-sleep and feel something burrowing into your ear, you wake up. Because that could be spiders or earwigs or ticks, oh my! The other thing they don’t tell you is, earplugs HURT. They make your ears ache. They make your head ache. Especially if you have the wee-est ears in the world, like I do. If I were watching, say, Led Zeppelin play a concert, I might not notice the ache. Or, at least, it would certainly be worth it. But, lying in the lightening room, feeling exhausted and traumatized, it began to feel like someone had filled my eardrums with ever-expanding putty. And, although I couldn’t hear the robin anymore, I was suddenly enveloped in my OWN noise. My bed was a sensory deprivation chamber. My gurgling stomach sounded as if it were amplified through a long pipe into my brain. My heart was like the drug smuggling airport scene in Midnight Express. The hum of the cpap and my metronomical breathing were like Dave in the spacesuit trying to change to manual controls, while Hal sings, “Daisy, Daaiseeeey…”

Just as I convinced myself this was soothing, womb-like and I could deal with the earplug pressure, my 105lb Rhodesian ridgeback jumped off the bed, went downstairs and rang the bell hanging on the front door ~ his signal to go out. And then he rang it again. And again. I knew, however, this was a call for breakfast. He didn’t need to go out. The cheeky bugger was trying to get me downstairs to feed him. I ripped the tape off my mouth and yelled, “GO TO BED!” It worked for about half an hour and then I heard my husband getting ready for work. I called it quits at 8:30am.

My sleep graph: the top line "W" = Wake

My sleep graph: the top line “W” = Wake

I did not embellish any of this and, although, I’m really trying to make it into a comedy, it devastated me. After all these weeks of horrible sleep, to be roused permanently from such a nice slumber after 5 hours, feels so unfair. When I came downstairs, my husband told me he was getting up at 6:30am tomorrow morning (a Sunday) because of the clocks going forward. I burst into tears.

I’ll try valerian for a week or two, but, if it doesn’t help, I’m moving on to brain chemical-altering, heavy-duty drugs. End of story. I thought I could will my sleep better, but this is beyond my abilities. I hope I haven’t caused permanent damage.

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January 1st, 2013

2012 was the worst year of my life. I realise that is not a very festive and celebratory way to start a new year’s post, but it’s the truth. Having said that, however, I know that if this past year has been my worst, I have been extremely fortunate and had a very blessed life.

On January 1st 2012, I wrote an eight page-long goodbye letter to my husband which included all the details of our online accounts, passwords, paperwork etc., things with which I have always dealt. It also laid out my thoughts about my funeral and asked him to make sure to use my savings to pay for my family and E. to travel from Ireland, if needed. Really morbid stuff.

Thank you for your love, kindness, caretaking, honesty, patience… You gave me everything I’ve ever wanted in a friend, a partner, a husband. I am so lucky…

I had never experienced anything like what I was going through and I didn’t think I’d come through it. At the time, I had been diagnosed with malaria. Never did it occur to me, if I did survive, that I’d still be sick a year later. Never did it occur to me that I might be sick for years and years to come. I work every minute of every day to get better and that is what I will continue to do. Every day, in so many ways, I try to help myself heal:

I wake up slowly, gather my strength, set my intention for the day. I open my blinds so moisture doesn’t collect on the window panes, I turn on my air purifier so it can work its unseen magic during the day. I wash my mouth guard, cpap mask and machine parts ~ yes, every day. I brush my teeth sitting down. I wash my face, pick off the leftover adhesive (from the tape I put over my mouth at night) and apply a calendula cream that helps my skin heal. I put my dry eye drops in and use my antihistamine nasal spray. I make tea with stevia and soy creamer (no sugar, splenda or dairy allowed anymore) and take my first supplements of the day with filtered water (the top rated (cheap) filter by Consumer Reports). I check the temperature and the humidity in the house. My body has no concept of comfortable anymore. I could be feverish for no reason or freezing in the heat. Or sweating face, but icy toes.

I work on the computer for a bit, sitting in front of a light box. Breakfast is a smoothie with flax, berries, and walnuts or homemade granola with fruit and almond milk. I seem to have completely conquered my hypoglycemia by switching from rice milk to almond milk and adding fiber to my tea. Afternoon beverage is decaf green tea, per the Good Doc’s orders. I do any chores I can manage. I try to meditate three times a day. This is forced rest… or preemptive rest. Regardless of how I feel, at the very least, I lie down twice each day for an hour, usually at 1pm and 6pm. I have a room ~ not my bedroom ~ where I have peace, privacy, a small futon, a wedge pillow, blanket, eye mask, headphones and CDs. These meditations are the only reason I can get through the day. If I don’t recharge, flat on my back with my eyes closed, I will start to deteriorate: get shaky, slow down cognitively, become achy, stiff and develop a headache.

yoga room

In between 2pm and 4pm, if I’m up to it, I do laps around my house with the dogs. I’m currently not up for more than 4 times around ~ about 400 steps. I wear a pedometer all day, every day.  I am diligent about keeping my core temperature up. For those few minutes outside, I put on my heated vest, hat, scarf, gloves, Uggs. I never want to go back to the debilitating chills of this time last year. If I feel I have some strength, I do every little thing possible to “exercise” so my muscles don’t decondition any more. I squeeze the squeeky dog ball in both hands. I slowly and carefully scoop dog poop. I focus as many miles away as possible ~ to the skyline or horizon ~ since I spend so long indoors only looking six feet ahead. I breathe deeply ~ consciously ~ to get my dose of outside air. I notice everything: planes tracing lines in the sky… the sounds of our neighbours… plants, birds, trees that I never paid much attention to before. And I am grateful for every step, always silently thanking the universe for keeping me on my feet, for allowing me to have the health I still have.

last leaf

Even if I can barely move, I try to stretch my muscles as often as possible. I soak in an Epsom salt bath (2 cups) for no more than 30 minutes (I am told any more than that and the badness leeches back into your muscles) and then I do gentle floor stretches, as well as my neck traction. I dry my hair sitting down. My lunches and dinners are predictable, boring and really pretty disgusting after months and months on end. No grains of any kind besides oats, no eggs, dairy, legumes, potatoes, tomatoes or cod. No msg, obviously, and I’m desperately trying to cut down on sugar. I add turmeric to virtually everything I eat. If I had the energy to cook, I would be making the most creative and tasty dishes, but, as it is, I rely on my husband and quick snacks: apples, nuts etc. Basically, I eat enough to take my supplements. I drink two tablespoons of tart cherry juice with dinner every night and usually drink ginger tea last thing before bed. I don’t watch tv later than 9:30pm, I practice good sleep hygiene and I never get to sleep later than 11:30pm.

My year felt like one third survival, one third denial, and one third a carefully constructed balancing act. A tightrope walk with no end in sight and any time you fall off, you don’t go back to the beginning ~ you go back much further than where you started. So, you don’t know how far the rope goes in front of you or behind you. Now: Turn that tightrope so it’s vertical. You aren’t walking forward, you’re clinging on with your hands, trying to climb upwards into the clouds… an abyss below you. Just one hand over the other. Don’t look up, don’t look down. This moment, this breath.

Holding onto a rope

2012 Wrap Up:

January: Saw endocrinologist; Mom visited.
February: Saw infectious disease doctor; started seeing a therapist; started meditating.
March: Saw rheumatologist, saw allergist, saw gastroenterologist; started low fat diet; changed birth control pills; eliminated pain killers.
April: Saw naturopath; started gluten-free and dairy-free diet; my friends’ sweet baby A. was born ~ the highlight of this year.
May: Saw second infectious disease doctor; Mom visited; stopped working and left career.
June: Saw optometrist; got CT scan.
July: By best friend E. visited; my sister got a new puppy (my new nephew); dear friend of the family’s, M.B., died.
August: Started seeing the Good Doctor; saw chronic fatigue “specialist”; started automimmune elimination diet.
September: Started acupuncture; saw sports medicine doctor; had sleep study done; Dad visited; became housebound.
October: Got brain and cervical spine MRI, Mom visited; brother T. visited.
November: Saw obgyn; started using cpap.
December: Brother A. visited; sister and J. visited for Christmas; dear old friend, D.H., died far too young.

This was my year. I know there is a big world out there with a lot bigger things going on, but this was my year. Doctors, tests, symptoms, setbacks, births, deaths, revelations about myself, revelations about our bodies, grief, joy, fear and more grief. And I know: it could have been much, much worse. What I see when I look at this is: my brothers, sister, mother, father and best friends all came to visit me. They journeyed across the city, country or world to my house to support me. In doing so, they healed me. I am very lucky. I am very blessed. With this kind of support, I can be the rock again. I will feel like I can weather any storm again. Maybe that’s what the new year will bring. I will notice everything, consider anything, expect something, but fear nothing. Welcome, 2013. You’re going to look very different from last year.

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…it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled…

What a roller coaster it has been. One day I want to write about one thing, the next day, everything has changed and I want to write a whole different post… So, I wind up writing nothing at all.

I spent three days feeling good. And I mean good. Stiffness was drastically reduced, my back pain was virtually eliminated, my energy level was up and, best of all, I had no headache. For three days, I wasn’t grimacing at my husband’s footsteps or holding my ears while we watched tv. It was bliss, I tell you. Then, a series of unfortunate events: Sunday night, my husband turned on our yet-unused gas fireplace insert (purchased because wood fires make me dizzy and my lungs burn) and the house filled with chemically burny metal paint fumes. I didn’t think much of it ~ it’s a brand new unit, after all ~ until Monday morning when I woke up very dizzy. My husband had gone to SO MUCH trouble to get this fireplace for next to nothing ~ driving out of the city to a clearance sale, standing on the roof, repairing the chimney for days, going into the crawlspace and disappearing into the hearth to run the gas, building/grinding/soldering/I-don’t-know-whating a framework because the insert was much smaller than the opening to our fireplace… So, I was upset and emotional all day. What if the fumes from the fireplace made me dizzy? Oh no, we didn’t think of that! What if the new paint or whatever doesn’t burn off and that smell lasts for ages or the permanent off-gas causes me to get dizzy or makes my eyes burn or makes my chest tight…? Where will I go while he tries to burn off the smell? Should I get a hotel? What if this bloody fireplace causes me to be worse in the long term? The usual fretting. So, we were worried and annoyed and frustrated. Also, I think everything was exacerbated by PMS because, after months of being an emotional zen master, I felt inflamed. I was distraught and enraged. I was guilty that my husband’s fireplace project might be a complete waste. Knowing my sensitivity to scents and chemicals, I was frustrated that we hadn’t taken this into consideration. I was upset that my husband wasn’t more sympathetic to how this might worsen my symptoms (he wasn’t pleased when I asked him not to turn it on again). I was furious that this disease ruins everything. That night, knowing my period was looming and taken aback by the onslaught of my emotion, I started the birth control pill again. I thought, Whoa, PMS is HELL. I need my hormones regulated again. Then, that night, things fell apart. I woke up feeling like someone had turned on a shower over me. Sweat was running down my ribs and dripping onto the bed. I was so confused. At first I thought it was blood… Then I thought maybe my cpap machine was leaking water… I hadn’t had these sort of drenching night sweats in so many months, that I didn’t even recognise the symptom. My sheets were soaked. I got up, pulled off the sheets, changed my pillow, lay down some towels. My cpap mask and headgear were slick with sweat. I had to take it all off to dry it, wash my face. And I was shaking. And scared. Was it from the pill?? Was it from the heightened anger and emotion of the day? Was it from the tart cherry juice I started drinking? Was it from the fireplace somehow? Was it because I have been taking melatonin every night for too long? I checked my blood sugar to rule out hypoglycemia and went back into fitful sleep.

My acupuncturist encouraged me to see it as a good sign. He explained that, in Chinese medicine, as the body gets stronger, you will experience some of the earlier symptoms again. He said, I had been in the Yang Ming stage, where the pathogen was deep inside my body, but, as I try to fight it off, the pathogen is pushed into the Shao Yang ~ the “Lesser Yang”, Which is characterised by the chills and sweats. He said, “Fever means you are winning.” That made me feel better for about two hours until I developed a crushing headache, which hasn’t gone away in five days. And this headache isn’t the normal one ~ it feels more like the narcotic bounce-back headaches I get. So, I start the relentless questioning again: Is it from the acupuncture (it got much worse that night)? Is it from the birth control pill? Is it from the fireplace? Did I overexert myself? Is it from the tart cherry juice, for fuck’s sake?? The hard part is that I am convinced the headache is from the pill and, if you stupidly go online and research it, like every other drug in the world, the horror stories make you want to stop right there and then. So, here I am again… weighing the pros and cons of having a viciously painful, incapacitating period over Christmas or putting up with this headache all day, every day, which is not touched by painkillers and makes me feel as if I am carrying a very dangerous, sleeping 2,000lb crocodile on my head: constant pressure and pain, never making noise or sudden movements… Right now, not being in the throes of period cramps, I choose a period over the headache and I decide I won’t take the pill tonight (imagine what I am doing to my body jumping on and off the pill like this!). However, you know one week from now, when I am curled in a ball, weeping and ~ god forbid ~ the headache hasn’t gone away, I’ll be wanting to put myself back on birth control.

Those few days before the fumey-angry-sweaty-pill day were glorious. I thought I was coming out of the dark ages. I was sleeping better, I hadn’t put IcyHot on my back in ages, I didn’t think about a painkiller for two whole days! I’ve had the surge in energy before but I can’t remember the last time I had had some relief in stiffness and pain. Heaven.

That’s my catch-up. I am just trying to maintain my tenuous grasp on Okay, so we can have a nice Christmas with my sister and her boyfriend.

Speaking of, my sister and brother came over to visit for one day last week (my brother, a pilot, had a layover here) and it was absolutely wonderful. Even though I had tried very hard not to talk too much, gesticulate too much, laugh too much, walk around too much, still, by the end of the night, my internal tremors were vibrating from scalp to toe, my eyes were unfocused, my face was red and muscles stiff… I crawled to bed at 9:15pm and thought, “That day was worth every symptom.” I am so grateful for family, for lightness and conversation and laughter. Once in a while, it is important to put fear away and forget the careful construction of the day… and just live a little.

You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it.They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster.