The future might be the past…

I’m going through a rough(er) patch. My body is scaring me because I can’t find any cause for recent episodes. One of the good things these past few years, is that I can usually pinpoint a reason for reactions and downturns. Even after the last horrific night I suffered with apparently no reason (it was last November, during my Dad’s very short visit and I couldn’t blame it on overdoing it because I didn’t), I started spotting late the next day and–light bulb!–it was my period coming a week early (I can have terrible reactions on the day before or the first day of menstruation).

When my husband called 911 on the first day of my last period (both my MD and ND said that my body had gone into shock), it was the first time I’d had such a bad collapse with vitals bottoming out since 2010 — since before I was sick! Then, 5 days later, I got a tingly tongue and lip during IVIG and then a hive on the base of my throat. I realise it was a tiny reaction compared to what so many mast cell patients go through (a week later, a friend of mine went into full-blown anaphylaxis during her IVIG infusion and then somehow got the guts to try again the next day with the same batch –that put my experience into perspective), but the thing is, except for one small hive when I tried Xanax in 2013, I hadn’t had any hives since being in full-blown anaphylaxis 17 years ago! And that place–a hive in the suprasternal notch– was always the position for a systemic red alert, for something I ingested, as opposed to benign contact dermatitis.

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Then Saturday evening, my tongue swelled up for the first time in 7 months for no reason that I can figure out. I had tongue swelling a few times last year, but I could always explain it (dental work, sauna, vancomycin). Even more concerning, it’s still swollen now, 45 hours later and that’s very unusual. I took Benadryl the last 2 nights, squirting it onto the affected area of my tongue, as I’ve been told to do (this is also unusual for me–I am extremely judicious with Benadryl, only taking it when absolutely necessary) and the swelling still hasn’t resolved. I can’t remember another time it lasted this long — maybe, again, 17 years ago during anaphylaxis.

Then yesterday afternoon, I was hit with vertigo after spending too much time on my feet, preparing food. Vertigo is rare for me and is a big red flag. It’s very different from dizziness and I don’t think it has anything to do with blood pressure. I went to bed for a while, hoping it would resolve, but, when I got up, I was still slamming into walls, as if I were walking the hallway on a lurching boat. The last 2 times I experienced vertigo were 5 months ago during–shocker–my period and a year ago on the morning we were leaving for California, after killing myself the day before to finish packing. I thought it might be something to do with my neck, which always has issues, so I used heat, then my cervical traction device, then an ice pack. I think it helped; the vertigo had mostly abated by the time I went to bed.

But…

A few hours after I went to sleep, I woke up with horrible shakes and chills and drenching sweats. My BP was low (but low-normal for me: 80/50), HR was a little high, temperature was 96 degrees, and O2 was 95%. It was 7 terrible hours that felt viral, like when I first got sick, but was probably mast cells, what with the swollen tongue and all. I finally got up to do that thing that other chronically ill people might understand: put on clothes in case I had to go to the hospital. On a normal day, I might sit around in my dressing gown with unbrushed hair all day, but when there could be a chance I’m going to the hospital, I try to make sure I’m not naked. I also make sure I’m not wearing anything I care about — I’ve lost clothes in the hospital before.

Strangely, I had almost an identical episode on this exact day last year. Here’s a screenshot from my calendar:

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After the most stable autumn and winter I’ve had since being sick, this downturn–this piling on of relatively rare, red-flag symptoms–scares me. My sleep has gone to hell in the last few weeks, which compounds everything by stealing energy and increasing pain. Plus, I’m exacerbating things by holding tight to my “best winter yet” narrative and by fighting so hard to maintain the level of functioning I’ve had this past year, rather than pulling way back and resting aggressively.

My ND says the naturopathic philosophy is that you will go back through previous stages of health and experience earlier symptoms as you travel the healing journey back to where you once were. I’ve latched onto this theory to anchor myself and dispel some fear. The resurgence of all these old symptoms means there has been a shift in my system — but maybe it’s a positive shift, even though it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve gained weight since starting IVIG, over 8% of my norm, which is not insignificant, especially on someone as small as I am. I’m at my heaviest since being sick and, although I’m not overweight, I’ve lost muscle tone the last 7 years and I don’t have the physical ability to burn fat and build muscle, so I hope this trajectory doesn’t continue. My doctor thought this, also, pointed towards a shift in my body: maybe I’ve started absorbing nutrients better. Acne is coming back a little, too. Maybe my hair will grow back! Or the next thing will be that I’ll catch a cold for the first time in 8 years… (And because I really don’t want this to happen, no matter what it might indicate about a calming immune system: knock on wood, toba, toba, spit over shoulder: patuey.)

But, as I lie here, shaky, with my swollen tongue, chronicling these last few weeks (minus the osteoporosis diagnosis and extremely elevated post-antibiotics SIBO test results, both of which I’ll have to write about at a different time), none of it feels like a positive shift and I worry about what I should eat so as not to add to mast cell reactivity and whether I should stay in bed and lie still, even though longed-for Seattle sun is streaming through the windows and I’d love to make some breakfast and sit at my table watching Riley lounge in the grass, soaking up the rays, and the hummingbirds diving around our feeders.

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Dear Family

September 22

Dear family,

So here’s what’s happening. I had that terrible reaction to Cromolyn, but it continued for a few more nights than I would have expected. I’ve never felt so sick and urgently needed to change everything in case something —  anything — was contributing to this downfall. I was suddenly willing to take no meds or supplements, eat nothing, go bankrupt, leave the dogs, do anything to survive. I don’t know how to explain it. It didn’t feel like typical ME payback. It wasn’t my blood pressure or blood sugar or temperature, it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t my muscles… it was a feeling of system-wide poisoning. I realised it started the day after we got back from the coast (a dream come true, which I will blog about at another time), so I had to get out of my home, too, in case it was the cause. I wasn’t willing to stay one more night and risk being in the midst of whatever was poisoning me. It was that bad. It took me about one minute to make the decision. For two reasons: 1. If the house or the dogs were somehow making me sick, I had to leave immediately. 2. At the very least, I’m allergic to the dogs and getting away from them would help me heal and have one less assault on my immune system. Plus, Husband and I have talked about my staying somewhere else ad nauseum and always thought the first test would be in Seattle somewhere, it was just something that we hadn’t had the gumption to tackle yet.

My friend Erik, who has recovered through extreme mold avoidance, bullied encouraged me to not bring anything from my home — not my clothes, not a toothbrush, credit card, phone — in case mycotoxins were contributing/causing my illness and/or relapse. After arguing why I needed my own pillow, my sleep apnea oral appliance, my special food etc., I realised… No I don’t. My urine mycotoxin tests were high out of range. Eliminate all possible variables. Take nothing. Once I wrapped my head around it, it seemed like an obvious leap. I was leaving anyway, so why not go whole hog?

I found an AirBnB rental nearby that was able to have me check in last night. It’s not cheap, but it’s cheaper than a hotel and incredibly nice. It’s a brand new studio on top of a garage. New enough that I’m risking using their washer and dryer, but not so new that I’m overly concerned with all the Ikea cabinetry and new sofa and bed. It’s only available until Thursday, but it buys me some time to gain some strength and figure out what to do.

Husband, the selfless angel supporter, bought me a super-cheap tablet, so I could have email access, food, a few toiletries and a cheap outfit (leggings, sweatshirt). I stripped on the doorstep of the rental, left my clothes in a bag there and went straight in and showered. I have an emergency kit outside the door: epipens, benadryl, inhaler, blood sugar tester, glucose tabs, my phone and thyroid hormones.

Last night was rough. The sheets here are washed in smelly detergent which makes me sneeze and keeps me up at night (I know normal people don’t believe this, but, yes, the smell wakes me up over and over and makes me feel like I’m choking), so I’m going to wash the sheets and duvet cover today. Their pillows are for giants — prop your head at a 90 degree angle — so, I went pillowless and my neck is killing me today. I couldn’t get to sleep until after 2am and then I woke up constantly, of course  — I have no cpap, no mouth guard for grinding, no ear plugs, no eye shades, no melatonin, no magnesium, no dogs — but it was better than it has been.

I spent the whole morning cooking, but I’m still starving and worried about losing more weight. I have no meat and no broth — my staples. I’m scared to eat chocolate and chips in case they’re contributing to how awful I feel, and it feels like breaking a heroin addiction. It’s a ton of work, washing, chopping, cooking, cleaning for myself, plus showering standing up…

Thank you so much for your generosity and support, family. I’m so grateful to not have had to run to the streets or, worse, had no option to leave and no husband to help. I’m not sure what my next step is. Go from rental to rental until I know whether I can return to the house? Or sell everything and get out? I don’t know. I’m scared to test anything right now. The reactions/symptoms I was having were too deadly.

Love you all so much. Especially you, dear husband. You give so much every day. I am so sorry this is ruining your life and dreams as well as mine. We have had such a rough time, but I will fight for us and our little family with everything I have. Every ounce of energy and every penny.

September 23

I’m not doing well. I spent all of yesterday on my feet and moving, which is crazy, obviously, but I’ve been so much stronger recently and I don’t have my typical payback muscle pain, so I’m not recognising the warning.

Last night was horrific. Drenching sweats, heart palpitations, hard to breathe, shaking, feverish without the fever, terrible head, this is all stuff I haven’t felt since the first year and a half I was sick. I’m worried that it is viruses rearing up, like Dr. Chia describes, and a catastrophic (what if permanent??) crash and I didn’t heed the warnings and stay still because I didn’t have my typical crippling pain and stiffness. I’m worried that I brought this on myself because I got cocky and stopped my preemptive rests. I’m worried that I just made myself much worse with so much activity.

September 24

Dear family,

Yesterday, I had a major breakdown. I’m horrified that I may have made myself much, much worse by not getting in bed and staying there, not moving. But I can’t tell you the level of hardship this puts on Husband — and myself! To shoulder the guilt and to have no sense of control over your life. Preparing my own food and taking care of myself may be making me worse right now, but it helps me feel less like a burden. But I’m very, very scared that this is simply ME and, in trying to help myself, I’m walking right into a much more disabled state.

I’ve been averaging about 3 to 4 hours sleep every night this week. Today I need to figure out where I’m going tomorrow. Now that I’ve started this, I can’t go home yet. I’m far, far too sick to be anywhere that isn’t pristine, pet-less, easy to maneuver around… My system (immune, nervous, lymphatic, methylation) is too precarious to detox any assaults. Husband had to remove the scented garbage bags from the rental yesterday.

Worst of all — honestly, it feels worse than anything — is the sudden removal from my dogs’ lives. I can’t even type that without crying. They are my guardians and have become so sensitised to my every breath, noise and movement. The codependence isn’t too healthy, but they’ve kept me company and kept me sane all these years. At least with human children, you can try explaining. I just keep imagining their confusion, knowing they run into my room every morning to cuddle. We have a routine. They will be neglected because husband and I are tapped out and that, more than anything , breaks my heart.

September 25

Very sick. Some things are better from not being home, reinforcing our choice to do this. Please trust me. Love you all.xo

September 27

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September 28

My current rental didn’t work out (literally have slept an hour or two here and there for the last three nights) because it is so loud. The entire room shakes when vans/lorries/trucks go by and the person next door gets up at 4am and stomps around in what sounds like tap shoes on wooden floors next to the head of my bed. So, Z is coming from Vashon this morning to move me.

September 29

Dear family,

I know I need to rest more than anything. Trying to listen to my body is very difficult recently. The return of acute immune system-shifting symptoms has been terrifying and horrifically hard on my body. You’re all correct — I did too much that first day and made myself worse. But that wasn’t because I was isolated and alone or being heedless — I’ve truly been able to do all those things the past few months. I’ve been strong! So, I just misjudged the sudden drop off in my abilities and, like I said, didn’t have my typical warning signs to stop. It was a bad mistake. And so was working 50-hour weeks for 6.5 months after I got sick. And so was joining an exercise class and taking massive amounts of vitamin B12 all the other ridiculous things I’ve done that have made me worse over the years. It’s very hard to rest if you’re not physically maimed. Really. It goes against everything in my nature and I will always fail at it, it seems.

I think the hard part came when I spiralled further down after that first day and husband had to leave work to help me. And that was a double-blow because it came on the heals of his taking a week off of work for the coast trip. But, I’d never been in such a poor state. I may regret that he had to abandon a few days of work and we’re losing so much money (I already do!), but who cares about jobs and money when you’re writing an “if I die” email? Only hour-to-hour survival has been on my mind this week.

There are no words to describe the gratitude I feel that I have a family who cares, that there are people worrying about me and wanting to help. I never, ever take that for granted for a minute. I lost a lot of people the last few years and many people deal with this illness with nobody on their side, so I know how lucky I am that you care and want to help. So, thank you, THANK YOU for your thoughtful responses, empathy and for wanting to keep me safe. That, more than anything, is my overwhelming emotion: thankfulness that I’m not alone in this fight.

October 1

My current rental has mold in the washing machine, in the evenings the whole place smells like secondhand cigarette smoke from the landlords next door (I literally got wheezy — imagine all those years of working in the smokiest of smokey bars!) and the blankets on the bed smell so bad that I asked if I could get them laundered and the man said he had never had them washed before!! This all made me want to get the hell out, so I felt like I needed to give up and go home … I’m so tired… And Husband actually persuaded me to stay away (here or somewhere else). He wants more time to de-dog-ify the upstairs of our house, move out the furniture, bring the carpet to the cleaners etc. He thinks I should give this experiment a longer trial… I’d like to stay away until my night sickness and sweats totally abate because they are such an indicator of how bad I’m doing and then see how I do at home.

October 3

Dear family,

This new rental is great besides the moldy washing machine (again),  but, interestingly, I have a stuffy nose and the electric shivers in my leg came back the first day here — both for the first time since leaving home 10 days ago. Also, I have a new and different drugged feeling here and joint pain has not eased up. But, I’m still planning to stay a week and the good news is my sweats/shivers/shakes stopped (!!!) after 12 harrowing nights and I got some relief from the complete bowel freeze of the last week. I reintroduced a few things from my house (food, apnea device, supplements) with no adverse effects. Actually, the malarial nights went away 2 days after starting to wear my apnea device again, but they also started while I was wearing it, so there is no correlation.

Yesterday morning, my ND sent out an intern to do a house call to take blood and do a hydrotherapy “constitutional” in my own bed. I don’t care what you think about naturopaths, there are no MDs making free house calls and spending an hour, so I want to win the lotto and pour money into this clinic.

My testosterone, estrogens, DHEA, TSH, free T3 and free T4 are all out of range low. Sometimes I honestly think this whole illness is caused by my thyroid being dead. Grave’s disease is evil and most people who have gone through radioiodine ablation are on MUCH higher doses of hormones.

Fingers crossed this makes me feel a little better. X

October 7

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October 9

Dear family,

Ah, 6th rental is a charm. I kind of want to live here. The only downside is the bed is rock hard. I am so boney, have no muscle and have to deal with the fibromyalgia pain, so I really need plush bedding to not wake up in terrible pain. I’m force feeding myself. I get up, cook, eat, rest, cook, eat, rest, cook, eat, TV, sleep.

The first morning here, I woke up without a headache for the first time in a week, which confirms to me that something in the other rental was affecting me (and it started before I reintroduced Coconut Bliss ice cream and chocolate, so, thankfully, I have no good reason to continue to deprive myself of my sugar addiction ;)). I still have an achy headache, but it feels like it’s from a stiff neck and TMJ issues as opposed to a reaction to something. I increased my thyroid hormone and started a few supplements and low-dose Zyrtec. Feeling more stable.

Throwback Thursday: Autoimmune Thyroid Disease

I have had an itch under my jaw, deep in the tissue of my neck for years. In 2009, I decided to mention it to a doctor one day and, although she didn’t feel anything abnormal in the area of the itch, she did casually say, “You do have a lump on your thyroid, though.” I had a thyroid nuclear test done and a radioactive iodine uptake test which showed two toxic multinodular goiters.”Toxic”, meaning thyroid hormone was being produced at an increased rate, which is why my thyroid stimulating hormone (TSH) tested so low. “Multinodular” because it was a late-stage goiter, meaning it had been around for a while and had a chance to grow and become lumpy. In my case, I had been hyperthyroid for at least 7 years ~ my first abnormal TSH result was in 2002, but my doctors never pursued it and I didn’t know enough to insist.

This was my first experience with specialists. I had only ever dealt with general practitioners and emergency room doctors. The research doctors that diagnosed me were bizarre. They came into the room and peered at me like I was a specimen, their faces frozen into pensive seriousness. I started cracking jokes to break the tension, but they didn’t respond in kind. They asked me questions with long quiet pauses in between, during which they would look at each other and mumble and nod: Do you have flushing? Are you intolerant to heat? Do you shake? Stick out your tongue. Hold out your hand. Have you experienced any anxiety symptoms?  I finally stopped them and asked what they had found ~ they had told me nothing! Do I have cancer? No. Do I need surgery? No. Okay, now you can ask me more questions.

I had to do both nuclear medicine tests twice because too much time elapsed from my first round of testing to go forward with treatment ~ radioiodine ablation. After you have radiation treatment, you must stay away from people and animals for a few weeks, use different cutlery, use a different toilet and/or flush twice. It seemed like a big decision, but the doctors told me it was a terminal problem. I’ll never forget that. They said there wasn’t a very long life expectancy for people with untreated hyperthyroidism. Huh? Seriously? I didn’t seem to have a choice. So, I did it. I killed the whole thyroid and started taking hormones every day for the rest of my life. I never missed a day of work through this experience. During the segregation weeks, I holed up in the restaurant office, alone. I remember encountering a pregnant lady on my way to the rarely-used toilet in the basement and leaping back out of her space as if I’d been electrocuted… high-tailing back into the office so she wouldn’t be exposed to radiation. What must she have thought? 😉

Interestingly, I never felt like the symptoms abated. The flushing and hot flashes (my most visible symptoms, which I chalked up to oddly increasing self-consciousness) and the anxiety (which I blamed on my job) ebbed a little, but not much. And, of course, this was undoubtedly part of the priming of my body for ME. Hyperthyroidism and my anaphylactic episodes started about the same time. It was the beginning of the end.

Below are the photos and email that I sent to friends and family back then, hoping that it might open someone’s eyes to thyroid problems or make them listen a little bit more to their bodies. The fact that I thought I was having “devastating” and “debilitating” symptoms then strikes me as funny now… and sad. What was happening to my body because of my thyroid problems was NOTHING compared to what is happening to my body with M.E. They’re not even on the same planet … in the same universe. Can’t I go back to my old serious  health problems?

I have attached 3 pictures that I took before I got radiation treatment (ablation). The first is looking at my neck as I stand relaxed, the next is with my head back and the third was taken as I swallowed. I can’t believe I never noticed the lump on my thyroid. I can’t believe nobody else did. I can’t believe, with 7+ years of abnormal TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels, neither a doctor nor I, myself, looked any closer at my neck or my symptoms.  [The radioiodine must have swelled my thyroid, however there was definitely a visible lump before treatment that I never noticed until it was pointed out -and it is unforgivable that no doctor ever took the time to look further into my bloodwork or palpate my throat.]

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Head straight on.

So, I guess I’m hoping this email influences everyone to pay closer attention to their bodies. Look closer: know every line and lump so you’ll recognise changes. Listen closer: if your body is constantly telling you it’s way too hot or way too cold or way too tired or way too hungry, don’t ignore it. Don’t wait for a doctor to find out what’s wrong with you ~ question everything that feels wrong.

It turns out I wasn’t overheated & flushing because I’d become suddenly self-conscious. It turns out I didn’t just “get lucky” with an amazing metabolism. I wasn’t having floods of anxiety that caused my heart to race & skip beats because my job was stressful. I wasn’t debilitatingly exhausted because I worked too much & didn’t sleep enough. Well, at least not entirely.

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Head tilted back.

It’s still going to be a long road ~ my doctors say we could be tweaking my medication for years. I still vacillate between feeling ok and feeling dizzy and wasted… I eat about half what I used to… I’ll have to take hormones forever…. But, it’s not out of the question to go to a movie after a day’s work and I don’t spend my weekends crumpled in a ball, sobbing, asking what’s wrong with me while my husband wonders what to say….

I’m angry that I spent so long feeling that way and just explaining it away. I hope this inspires everyone to take a minute to think about your body and your quality of life. It’s all too short! Take care of yourselves!

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Swallowing.

Another Day in the Life.

Last weekend an old friend called to catch up after a few years. We had planned the day and time of the call, so I made sure I had the energy for it and didn’t have anything else scheduled that day besides a massage. After half an hour of talking to him (he is as energetic and animated and happy as I used to be), my voice began to get hoarse and the shakes started. I was lying down while talking to him ~ this is always easier ~ but I was outside in the sun, so I moved in to the blow-up mattress that is now in our living room, trying to quiet my system. We talked for another half hour and I wanted to keep going ~ we still had more to cover ~ but I could hear myself slurring and now my head was hurting and my ears were ringing and the internal tremors were so pronounced I think the phone was twitching against my ear. It was wonderful to talk to him. Catching up with family and friends is always good for my mood and fans the flames of life force… but, I knew it had taken too much out of me.

I spent the next few hours resting and then left for my massage. I was driving myself because the place is very close to our house and the last time I was there it wasn’t a problem as long as they put me in the ground floor room and I didn’t have to climb up the steep stairs to the second floor. I don’t get massages very often, but, when I do, I really love them. I ask her to “make my muscles feel like I went running without any of the energy expenditure or lactic acid build up” and somehow she does. It really helps my neck pain and headaches, too.

So, I arrive and realise I have to park across the street instead of directly outside the door because my appointment is later in the afternoon than usual and there is no parking between 4pm and 6pm. I am already running a little late because, after the talk with my friend, every little thing I did caused my heart rate to go too high and I had to move very slowly to keep it under 105 bpms. The chair in my car has a manual lever that you crank to raise it up. My husband is 6’2″; he has it at the lowest setting. I am 5’0″; I have it at the highest. Never before did I realise how many times you have to crank it to raise the seat up. Crank, crank…rest, breathe…crank, crank…rest, breathe…. The things I never knew about aging and injury and illness: I need an automatic car! I need automatic seat movers! I need a bathroom that doesn’t involve going up and down stairs!

[That last comment was off-topic because, the day after the massage, having made it to the garden but needing to drink a lot of water to continue to flush toxins and keep my BP up, I squatted in a corner of the shrubs to pee. You never heard that. Don’t tell anyone. But it saved me about 200 steps]

So, I parked across the street and it was another of those oh-shit-I-never-realised-the-gradient-was-so-steep-here moments. I walked very slowly and carefully ~ carrying my far-too-heavy purse ~ the few steps that brought me directly across from the door to the massage place. My heart was hammering, so I stopped there and waited. And waited and waited. Another bad thing about a later Friday appointment: there was WAY more traffic than usual.

Now, back in Ireland, there are crosswalks, but you certainly don’t need one to cross the road. It was like a game of Frogger: cars didn’t slow down and you bounced your way through lanes of traffic, working diagonally towards the place you were going so as not to waste precious time with right angles. We were quite skilled at it. I would get annoyed if a car slowed down when I was in the street because he/she was just messing with my timing and rhythm. I would wave them on: go, go, go… I have other lanes of traffic to sync my gait with… But here in Seattle? People are aghast if you don’t use a proper crosswalk with a proper green man telling you to properly proceed. Within a few years of being here, I had been given THREE jaywalking tickets ~ and the fines were hefty!

[Another quick aside: I was given the first ticket when I was 23 or 24. I had been heckled by someone outside a bar after closing and was walking home alone when I saw he was following me. I made a bee-line diagonally across the street to get to my apartment as fast as possible and, in the middle of the road, I felt a hand on my shoulder and wheeled around to hit it off of me, thinking it was the guy from outside the bar. It was a cop. He said, “You’re jaywalking. Don’t you answer when someone calls you?” I said, “No, it’s 2 in the morning, some creepster was following me, I was just trying to get home. I didn’t hear you.” He said, “Come with me” and motioned to the footpath back the way I had come. And then slooowly, smirkily and assholey, wrote me a ticket. I had been drinking and I was scared and I was pissed off. I said, “Jaywalking? Can’t you go catch some rapists or something?” And, I swear to god, his answer was: “Actually, there aren’t very many rapes around here.” I still get fired up thinking about it!]

SO, after waiting long minutes for the traffic to be clear in both directions, so I could slowly make my way across the street to the massage place, knowing I was now about 5 minutes late, I decided it wasn’t going to happen and I would have to cross the first side when it was clear and then weave through the cars stopped at the traffic light on the far side. But, when you have this illness, you can’t hop or skip or hurry your steps… you can’t really lift an arm to wave thank you. And the people in the cars looked at me like I was SO rude and one person raised their palms up as if to say “What the fuck?” and I realised the light had turned green and I was still doing my sloth-walk to the curb. I tried to look remorseful, I mouthed “I have this mitochondrial dysfunction and dysautonomia issues and weak muscles. I know I look able-bodied, but I’m not, please be patient” “sorry” to the driver. It was the longest walk across a road in my life.

Then I had to tackle the 5 steps up to the door (oh no, this is too much) and, when I walked in, the owner and my massage therapist were sitting in the waiting room – waiting. For me. I sat down. The owner (whom I know from my old life) said, “I was starting to get worried. You’re always early.” I burst into tears. I still hadn’t caught my breath and time was ticking away and I was embarrassed that parking across the street had caused me such problems.
“My heart rate… It took me longer than I anticipated to get across the street,” I said.
My massage therapist (who knows all about my illness) said, “To get to the crosswalk?”
I thought about the crosswalk 100 miles half a block away. “God no. I could never make it to the crosswalk.”
The owner said, “Next time you should park on the next street over.”
I said, “But that’s a lot more steps to walk.”
He halfway joked, “You need a Segway.”
I said, “I wouldn’t be able to stand.” Because, believe me, I have considered every option out there.

The three of us just sat there for a minute and I felt the panicky, trapped feeling I get every time I realise just how difficult every inch of the world can be and how ill-equipped society is to help. Every moment takes energy and every day needs to be so carefully thought out in advance. Nobody can understand this unless they live it.

Afterwards, my massage therapist surprised me by running out to get her car so she could DRIVE ME ACROSS THE STREET. I wish I had taken a photo ~ it was literally across the street and down a few car lengths. The gesture was so kind and generous after I had her now running about 15 minutes behind, that I didn’t bother telling her that walking uphill to her car idling in the alley and clambering into her tall SUV was as difficult as walking unaided back to my car on the downhill slope.

Gratitude for the day: for all the healthy people that go above and beyond to understand and accommodate and have compassion for people with disabilities.

In Other Conditions Doctors Don’t Give A Shit About News…

I have had reactive hypoglycemia for years. Of course, I didn’t have a name for it for a long time, I just knew that I had to graze all day in order to not be shaky. Is it a coincidence that this is one of the conditions that is associated with ME? I don’t know. My new doctor said it has to do with adrenal fatigue and it is absolutely likely that I was stressing my adrenals for a long time.

Hypoglycemia is yet another condition that is completely pooh-poohed by doctors and, in the grand scheme of things, I understand why. It is manageable for the most part and many patients have much worse things going on. But, that doesn’t mean it should be ignored and people shouldn’t be given constructive advice on how to stop their bodies from going through blood sugar roller coasters. That’s where I come in.

Just like (allopathic) doctors don’t discuss adrenal problems unless you have Addison’ s disease or Cushing’s syndrome, they don’t discuss hypoglycemia unless it is in the context of diabetes. Years ago, I talked to a doctor in Ireland about my blood sugar drops and I will never forget his response: “Ah, just eat a biscuit.” So, as usual, I had to do my own research. My fasting blood sugar is fine and, after lunch throughout the evening, it is usually stable around 80 or 90 mg/dL. But, after I eat breakfast, I have to beware. “Reactive” meaning my BS drops after eating a meal. I have a few rules: I know I have to eat a substantial breakfast and I always have to eat “elevensies” and I have to be wary of what I eat, using knowledge of the glycemic index. I’ve avoided almost all of my hypoglycemic episodes by switching from rice milk to almond milk (warning: rice has a very high score on the glycemic index, meaning it’ll cause your BS to soar and then crash).

But, still, there will always be days that I don’t manage it properly, like yesterday. I want to post about this because the physical effects from a BS crash are nothing to be scoffed at ~ especially when you have ME. It stresses your body just as an allergic drug reaction or a long conversation or a walk around the block stresses your body.

Yesterday, I ate oatmeal for breakfast with walnuts, pomegranate seeds, almond milk and flax meal. I thought that was pretty hearty and didn’t eat anything else for a few hours. Big mistake. My primary symptoms are extreme shakiness (worse than any caffeine or any other sort of tremors I have experienced) and blurry eyesight. And by “blurry eyesight” I mean it feels like my eyeballs are shaking as violently as my hands. It took me three tries to unzip my BS tester kit. It took me two tries to put the little testing strip in the reader (the first time I put it in backwards because I couldn’t see properly). While trying to load the wee needle, I stabbed myself deeply in the hand and just used that blood in the tester, which was good because I don’t think I would have managed the fine motor skills needed to load it anyway. My BS was 56 mg/dL. That’s low. I usually start shaking around 70. I poured the OJ all over the counter, trying to get it in the glass. I dropped my cracker with almond butter on the floor (sticky side down) while trying to navigate the distance from plate to mouth (okay, from counter to mouth ~ getting a plate from the cupboard would have taken too much time and put my feet in jeopardy from the likelihood of dropsies). The shakes didn’t subside quickly enough for my liking, so I ate half a Lara Bar and drank more OJ (this time without the glass, resulting in spilling down my shirt. Nope, not joking)… And then you get to deal with the symptoms of a BS spike: immediate headache, heart racing, exhaustion and a kind of extended vibration inside.

I was feeling pretty good yesterday morning and, after this episode, I was wiped out. It felt almost exactly like a hangover. I miss the days of a hangover caused by copious amounts of fun and whiskey, laughing and singing. I miss the days when a hangover was alleviated by a cheeseburger and Paul Newman’s lemonade. And I did this to myself! I KNOW that oatmeal often causes this to happen. I know I need to eat again an hour after breakfast. I knew I was feeling something off and ignored it, thinking, No, that hasn’t happened in ages. And I now know that my sick body doesn’t bounce back from these disruptions like my well body used to.

My advice: get acquainted with the glycemic index. Buy a BS tester kit and figure out whether you have fasting or reactive BS problems. Eat to minimise these episodes ~ even if you aren’t hungry. And do not underestimate how the roller coaster will affect your body. It’s exhausting.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Conditions Doctors Don’t Give A Shit About: Eyelashes That Drive You Crazy!