The Wacky World of Peripheral Neuropathy and Methadone

This hasn’t been a good weekend.  I slept most of January 1, 2016  (Hey, welcome new year !!), and the next two days haven’t been anything to cheer about (although I am alive, so that gets points).  This peripheral neuropathy is kicking my butt, and this morning it felt like a literal kick just to the right of my butt cheek crack. It is like a deep bruising- definitely a muscle type pain… not the weird ‘nerve’ pain of burning, numbness, tingling, etc.   The burning pain in both outer thighs is also bad.  Generally, the burning pain has been when I’m in bed, but today it has decided to join me until ?  But when I touch those areas on my thighs, it feels numb.  And then gentle contact with those areas brings a type of pain that is disproportionate to the degree of the touch.   When I say ‘burning pain’, I’m not talking about sunburn pain… I’m talking about hot oil type pain, over an area the size of the sides of both thighs.  The first time it happened, I froze with confusion.   Chemo and diabetes can have some gnarly complications.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for.  Since getting the CPAP for sleep apnea last year (close to this time), my head feels much more clear, and the morning headaches have been reduced by about %99- that  is HUGE !!  I’m still tired, but not nearly as wiped out as I had been post chemo.  Chemo fatigue is indescribable.  I’ve had fibromyalgia fatigue since the late 1990s, and it’s bad…. but chemo fatigue can be immobilizing.  Just getting up out of the TV chair to go to bed was overwhelming.  Fibro-fatigue is bad- but at some point, it eases up a bit to take care of basic daily activities enough to function, even if minimally.   (I live alone, so nobody to ask to do something on the fly…. there are a couple of friends around here who are so willing to help, but they have jobs and lives, so it can be hard to schedule a good time for both of us- but they are so willing, which is great.  My 83 year old dad is around, but I want him to have a life… I do ask him for help at times, but I don’t want to take advantage of him or anybody else). 

I know I need to contact the pain doc again.   This next two weeks, I have lab work, a follow-up with my endocrinologist, a routine visit with my neurologist, and the endoscopy with the ultrasound and biopsy of the junction between my stomach and lower esophageal sphincter for the “clinically significant lesion” that was found during the esophageal manometry to clarify the spasms in my esophagus that make swallowing so difficult.  Sometime in all of that, I need to see the pain guy.   And the CT of my pelvic area.  Can’t forget that.  I actually need to get that done before the pain guy, since I don’t want to do any spinal cord implants (to sort of confuse my brain about pain perception in my lower spine area) until I’m sure that nothing lurks in my pelvis.  SO many symptoms are common to a bunch of things, and I don’t want to have a metal implant (kind of like a pacemaker sized thingie) put in if something else is going on.

In the meantime, I’ve been prescribed methadone (t’s not just for getting heroin users off of heroin and on to something that has no ‘buzz’- it is a legit pain med), and have already been on ‘adjunct’ meds for other disorders that also help with pain management, like gabapentin, carbamazepine, clonazepam, cyclobenzaprine, and topical things like Icy Hot ‘sticks’, Salonpas patches, and sometimes just lying still on my uber comfortable bed, with my CPAP machine.

About the methadone.   I don’t like the stuff.  It does work for pain (same category as morphine)…. but I worked drug and alcohol rehab for about two and a half years, and from an objective point of view as a detox RN, it is the worst substance for detoxing.   I’m not concerned about addiction for myself.  I generally have a lot of pain meds left over, to the point of throwing them away because they’ve been in my drawer for so long.   I don’t mess with the instructions or dosing set by my doctor (who is board certified in anesthesia and pain management…. not a doc-in-a-box who only accepts cash, and has a line around the block).   I get no emotional ‘perk’ from the stuff.  But with any controlled substance (as well as things like caffeine, nicotine, etc), there can be physical tolerance and dependence.  That gives me the willies, which I guess isn’t a bad thing, but it does make it hard to take the methadone as often as I can (three times a day), even when I’ve got pain that ‘justifies’ taking the stuff.  It’s common knowledge that pain is easier to manage when it’s treated before it gets really bad… but methadone is no joke.  I have a lot of conflicting feelings about taking it.  And yet, the pain I have now is interfering with just moving around my apartment.   I need pain relief.  I’ve discussed my fears with my pain doc… and he reassures me that he will never leave me hanging as far as dealing with physical tolerance.

My pain doc told me that if the methadone doesn’t help now, the spinal cord implant is the next thing he would recommend.  I trust this guy, mostly because he is not a pill pusher.  He does prescribe them, but he also does nerve block injections with steroids and numbing meds, and options like TENS units (little electrodes on the outside of the body to help ‘trick’ the brain about pain perception).  He has rules about how things work at his office (no dosage adjustments over the phone, no messing with doses/frequency without his approval, random urine drug screens, calls for refills have to be on certain days, etc.).  If he feels people are not following his rules, they’re gone.  No jerking around with pain meds.  I respect that a LOT.

I also consider my age.  I’m 52 years old, and might have another 25 years, give or take, to cope with the neuropathy (and other) pain.  It concerns me to take strong stuff now, knowing I have an unknown number of years to live with this crazy body and the weirdness going on with it.  And yet I hurt.  I can’t take NSAIDs (ibuprofen, naproxen, etc) because of chronic gastritis.  I deserve a decent quality of life with less pain, and if that means pain meds, I need to accept that.  The doc can only help me if I am willing to follow his instructions with the meds that scare me.  I don’t expect to be pain free- that is totally unrealistic.  But less pain would be good.  I’ve had daily pain since the mid 1990s… it’s getting worse, and from different sources.    I want to be able to have some times to enjoy time away from my apartment, and hopefully with friends (those I’ve known for a while, and those I’m meeting at the Bible study).

I thank God for the doctors I have.  They listen, do the proper testing to find out what is going on, and in the case of my primary doc, orders things like my wheelchair to help me be as ‘able’ as possible to get around outside of my apartment.  That has been huge.  Going to the weekly women’s Bible study has been a wonderful way to get away, be around others, and meet people !  I’ve been isolated for the most  part for nearly 12 years. It’s been SO good to be around others, and hopefully be a source of positive interaction for them.

 

 

Ramblings of 2015

Here it is… New Year’s Eve.  Getting ready for 2016.   It’s been a bumpy 2015, though I realize I still have a lot to be thankful for.  A lot has happened.  A few things are still being diagnosed.    There have been family changes.   And like always, I seem to manage… but it’s getting harder to do it on my own.   Fortunately, I believe that God has it all figured out. I don’t have to understand it all…

Last year about this time, I did a home sleep study, that showed that I stop breathing about every 3.5 minutes….so basically I don’t sleep enough for it to be useful.  I hadn’t been getting to the REM stage, so restorative sleep was kaput.  I went in to get ‘fitted’ for a CPAP (continuous positive air pressure) machine, and it has really helped.  The morning headaches have pretty much disappeared (that alone was worth the price of admission).  I dream more- weird dreams, but not bad dreams, and I’m getting to the stage of sleep where I can dream.  Add a pulmonologist/sleep specialist to the list of doctors I see- but this guy is A-OK.  The increase in the quality of my sleep has perked me up, so I want to do more.  I can’t always physically get it done, but it’s nice not to feel like I’m a total slug.

Then the summer came around, and it seemed like my body decided to take a flying leap towards deterioration.  From the head down:  scalp psoriasis got much worse (no more dark colored shirts for these shoulders), swallowing got bad, GERD got worse, back pain intensified, blood sugars got nutty again,  legs started having intense burning pain (as in being set on fire… not sunburn), right leg  atrophy got worse (muscle shrinking), legs started getting weak to the point of feeling like they would give out, blood pressure and heart rate started to do their dysautonomia/POTS thing- again, and something I’m forgetting.  Oh, yeah…. the kidney function tests got weird after my blood pressure got really low.

The psoriasis is an autoimmune thing (not to be confused with autonomic… they are very different).  I keep my head shaved for the autonomic disorder (very heat intolerant, and what is more heat retaining than a head full of hair that is about as thick as a bear rug?), but now the psoriasis ointments benefit from not having a ton of hair to muck through.  SO, I’m usually mostly bald, and flaky.  Not like normal dandruff flakes (those are there with the psoriasis as well), but like sheets of skin the size of my little fingernail peeling off.  Lovely.  And, yet that is more of an annoyance than life-altering.

The swallowing is still being evaluated.  So far, it looks like achalasia (esophageal spasms that don’t allow for food to pass into the stomach normally; feels like a golfball is stuck in my pipes).  They also found a “clinically significant lesion” at the junction of my stomach and lower esophageal sphincter (end of the esophagus), which will be further checked in a couple of weeks when I have the third endoscopy in five months, but with an ultrasound and biopsy done this time.  I don’t like the word biopsy, and don’t like that it took about a MONTH to get the biopsy scheduled. To me, that’s not OK.    In the meantime, it hurts, and food choices are more limited, or I have to pull things out of my throat with my fingers. The safe foods are  more carbohydrate ‘intense’, which hasn’t done much for my blood sugars.  SO, add a gastroenterologist, and return visits to my endocrinologist.

The reflux was also really bad, but changing some of what I eat, as well as  a hefty dose of a proton pump inhibitor (GERD medicine) has helped somewhat.   I can no longer take ibuprofen, or any meds in that category because of chronic gastritis (inflammation of the lining of my stomach), so that is a problem with pain management with other stuff.

I’ve got degenerative disc disease, so it’s not all that unexpected that lower back pain gets worse over time, and I knew I was going to have to go back to my pain doc. I needed a current MRI so he knew what was going on.  That MRI was horrible.  I’ve had a lot of MRIs, and usually it’s no big deal.  This one was for both my lower back and neck (it’s in worse shape with messed up discs and bone spurs), with and without contrast, so it took a long time.  I bailed after the “without” part of the test. I got both the neck and lower back done, but  I couldn’t take  being on my back any longer, not able to move.   Anyway, I went back to the pain doc, where I got an injection in my back (have had a lot of those; they aren’t that helpful, but it does help a little for a few hours).   The next step with that whole mess is to have a spinal cord implant thingie that blocks how my brain perceives pain.  It fixes nothing except perception.  I’m going to have a pelvic CT just to make sure something else isn’t going on before I have something implanted in my back/spine.  In the meantime, it’s pain meds (that I don’t like).  They do help, but I am very careful about making sure I don’t get too used to taking them.  I’m not concerned about addiction.  I get no ‘perks’ other than pain relief.  I use them as directed.  But physical tolerance is something that happens with several types of meds even when used as directed.  It is not the same as addiction (no psychological component ), but can cause symptoms if the meds are suddenly stopped.  So I’m careful. I don’t use them every day.   I follow the dose instructions.  I don’t mess with them.

During a routine follow up appointment with my oncologist, my lab work came back funky for my kidney functions.  My blood pressure had been low for a while, and evidently low enough to mess up blood flow through my kidneys.  After a few medication adjustments, my blood pressure came up and my BUN and creatinine went back to normal, along with my glomerular filtration rate (which had put me in the stage 3 level of chronic kidney disease).  One thing that has always spooked me about being diabetic is kidney failure.  I’m not sure I’d agree to dialysis if it involved the sort that requires dialysis three times a week no matter what the weather, for 3-5 hours at a whack.  That’s not a life in my eyes.   Just my opinion, though I’m sure if it came down to it, I’d do dialysis for  a while, and make any other decisions along the way.

My right thigh had started to shrink (atrophy) a couple of years ago, and a muscle study (EMG) that involves pins stuck into the muscle with a bit of an electrical jolt thrown in showed that I have neuropathy.   Between being diabetic and a LOT of chemotherapy that often gives people neuropathy that don’t already have it, I was like a neuropathy magnet… and it was getting worse.  During the summer, I started having sensory issues.   As in it felt like my right thigh was literally on fire.  Ignited with an accelerant type of fire, not a sunburn.  I’ve got a pretty decent pain threshold (as in joking with nurses during bone marrow biopsies), but this pain would not only wake me up at night, but briefly immobilize me while I tried to make sense of the intense fire sensation, and no fire anywhere near me.  If/when I got myself rolled over ON to the burning leg, it would start to subside.  The same area was numb to touch all the time… Back to the neurologist for another EMG.  The sensory peripheral neuropathy was now said to be progressive (I think most of them are).    Then back to my regular doctor to discuss medication options that wouldn’t mess up the rest of the pharmacy I take.  And, to have her check my muscle strength.  The right leg isn’t so good, and if I’m standing for very long, I feel like it’s going to give out…. so I now have a wheelchair for more than walking around in my apartment, or to the dumpster- which I still do to keep using my legs as much as I can.  The other leg decided to join in the burning pain and numbness, so it’s a two-fer now.   The wheelchair has been a huge help  in getting around at church (I joined a women’s Bible study this fall- the first socialization in years).  I hope to go to the mall soon.  😀 DSCN4140

With my blood pressure and heart rate starting to be weird (kind of like it was in the beginning of the whole dysautonomia business), I was getting more symptomatic.  One night on the way to my dad’s girlfriend’s house for dinner, I started feeling like I was getting a bit foggy-headed, and my heart rate was going up.  Time to head for home.  Don’t pass go. Don’t collect $200.   My internal med doc (regular doc) had already adjusted my long-acting blood pressure med a couple of times,  (paradoxically helps keep my blood pressure UP, unless something isn’t working even more weirdly) , so she sent me off to a cardiologist – more specifically, an electrophysiologist who deals with heart rhythm problems, and dysautonomia.  The good news was that my EKG in the office was OK (which was expected).  My echocardiogram (ultrasound of heart) was OK.  Not perfect, but not bad for my age…. my AGE….. arghhh, I’m getting older on top of all of this  :p .  Thankfully, she didn’t want me to hook up to one of the 3-4 week King of Hearts monitors for extended testing. Those are annoying.  I’ve done them twice.  I end up with episodic tachycardia (fast heart rate), PVCs (not good if they keep going but a couple of them aren’t that big of a deal), and ‘burns’ from the electrode adhesive.   I’ll go see her again in a couple of months as a follow-up.

Sometime during all of this, I went back to my endocrinologist after my A1C (average blood sugar over about a 3 month period) went up more than I was OK with.  I hadn’t seen her in about two years…. I’m SO tired of seeing doctors.  But she got me some new fangled insulin samples, as well as the ‘good’ short acting stuff and told me what to take.  I found out that my Medicare part D (drug plan) would cover BOTH of them at the Tier 2 copays !!  That was huge !  I actually cried with joy at being able to get the ‘good stuff’, and not have to take the “disco insulin” anymore (it was popular in the 70s) .  God bless Walmart for making disco insulin available for $25 per vial ( good insulin can be 10x that price).  But I was going to be able to get the good stuff, AND the endocrinologist got me enough samples to get me from the beginning of October THROUGH the end of the year !  😮

SO, just from medical junk going on, I’ve seen a pulmonoligst/sleep specialist, internal med doc, oncologist, cardiologist, neurologist, endocrinologist, gastroenterologist, and board certified pain management doc.   Good to have all of those folks to help.

My 100 year old grandmother died on Halloween. There was a lot of really snotty stuff that went on with the living siblings (aunt and uncle) ‘passing along’ information to those of us grandkids whose sibling parent was already deceased.  From my standpoint, there is no more family besides my six cousins (in one family).   I am in contact with my mom’s deceased brother’s kids, and that’s it.  Toxic people can be prayed for from a distance.  I will always wish them well.  I will not be part of the games by pretending that it was all OK.  I couldn’t go to the funeral (see above), and the six cousins who also have a deceased ‘sibling parent’ weren’t even seated with the rest of the family.… ’nuff said.   Who knows what my other cousins have been told about how we were left in the dust with being informed about changes in grandma’s condition (admission to hospice) AFTER they’d all had a chance to go visit grandma from various parts of the country (not all did go, but they KNEW what was going on).  And it really doesn’t matter anymore.  It will be very clear in the end when we all meet our Maker.  The aunt and uncle (living siblings of my grandma’s) have to live with themselves.  I don’t.

I’m so thankful for my dad.  He’s my earthly ‘rock’.   He’s 83 years old, and going strong.  We talk every day, and see each other at least weekly.   It’s a gift to still have him in my life.    We joke with each other all the time, which is great- but I’m also so grateful for him.

Shelby turned three years old on Christmas Eve.  She’s still a ‘puppy’ at heart, and my baby.   She had to have a toe amputated this summer- it was benign (there was a swelling and firmness to it that was suspicious)… and she’s back to running around all over the place.   She really is a wonderful companion.  She’s nuts… but that’s fine ❤ DSCN4026

Joining a women’s Bible study was great and I look forward to the new semester starting next week.  It’s been a LONG time since I’ve had much continual socialization opportunities.  I have to take my cooling vest, wheelchair, and Bible with the  specific study guides, but it is such a blessing to feel like I’m a bit of a part of something.  It’s at the church where I grew up, so there’s a sense of familiarity, and I’ve met some really nice new people.  I also ran into the mom of one of the tiny babies I looked after in the church nursery (who was my favorite in the 0-7 month nursery- she was such a bitty little thing, and so cute; I claimed her as mine for an  hour each Sunday 😉 ).  It was great to see someone from the past.

A lot has gone on… it sounds like most of it was ‘bad’, but I don’t feel that way.  I’m getting some help with making life a bit easier (wheelchair, better insulin), as well as less isolating (Bible study).  That trumps the bad stuff to the moon and back.   I’ve accepted that I need help with some things, and have a couple of friends who are willing to help. My dad is healthy and a lot of fun.   I have a great relationship with my birth mom, as well as her extended family.   I can still live in my own apartment, and have my goofy dog.  Through Facebook, I can remain in contact with family,  friends from Texas, as well as those I’ve known from before then.   No matter what is going on, I believe that God has it all under control for His good.   I don’t have to understand it, but I do find comfort in His ability to get me through whatever goes on.  I always seem to land on my feet (more or less), and I believe that my faith is what gets me through things.   God is good.

Bring it on, 2016 !  😉

 

 

My Legs Are Retiring Part-Time … Wheelchair Will Be Here Next Week

This week, I went to  my doctor’s office so she could do the ‘face to face’ appointment required to order a wheelchair for me.   Normally I detest MD appointments (leaving home is painful- the docs are OK ), but I actually respect that Medicare requires this so that they aren’t paying for scam wheelchairs.  I’m thankful that I’ll have the w/c available for times when I can get out.  It’s been about eleven years since I’ve been to the mall.  I’m not much for shopping, but it would be nice to just see human beings.   I recently joined a women’s Bible Study, which has been great- I not only get to see people, but to interact with them as well.  But walking from my car to and from the room where we meet is hard.  My legs hurt, and I get short of breath.  I look OK, except for a limp, and no eyebrows ever grew back after chemo.  My head is shaved to minimize heat retention.   I don’t look ‘broken’.  But I feel decimated.

Grocery shopping has become increasingly more difficult.  I can maneuver with the cart for support, but unloading the stuff once I get home as well as the toll that shopping takes leaves me in increased pain for about three days.  This has been going on for a while, but it’s gotten worse.  I don’t even bother with clothes shopping… I get undies on Amazon, and order t-shirts and Cuddl Dud leggings/longjohns online.  I’m at home most of the time, so that’s all I really need.  I’ve also found a couple of plus-size online sites that have  stuff that is suitable for when I leave home.  Amazon has Prime Pantry, and Walmart delivers, so some things are available to have dropped off at my front door.

I’ve had autonomic dysfunction (dysautonomia) for almost 20 years.  That involves my blood pressure, how my breathing feels,  and my heart rate (they go very low, and I keel over if it gets bad enough, or I feel like I can’t get air ).  I have horrible heat intolerance, and must wear an ice vest when I leave home; too hot = unconscious.  Dysautonomia can dull my memory (facial recognition is getting worse), make me feel exhausted when doing very little, and in general, make me feel off kilter.  That’s what got me on disability (along with nocturnal left temporal seizures that leave me exhausted in the morning).  The last two months I was working as an RN, I was sent out by ambulance about 10-12 times… I don’t remember any of the ambulance trips.   The chemo I got for acute promyelocytic leukemia is known for making peripheral neuropathy worse, or starting it to begin with.   The chemo was also  hard on my heart; I had to skip the last dose of one IV chemo because my MUGA scan showed problems.  Fortunately, my heart itself got better… but the cardiac symptoms with dysautonomia have been really wonky.   I have degenerative disc disease, fibromyalgia, and degenerative joint disease (involves my hips at this point).   I guess I need to be thankful for not being in a wheelchair sooner.   And it will be ‘part-time’ at this point.

I seemed to do fairly well until this last summer, when the cardiac symptoms as well as the painful part of neuropathy started to change.  There were several medication dose adjustments to deal with the blood pressure and heart rate changes (were going up with a palpable feeling of something being wrong, then dropping enough to diminish blood flow to my kidneys- that was scary).  Then, I’d wake up with my right thigh feeling like it had been doused with some type of accelerant and lit on fire. One night it was so intense I couldn’t move.  I was stunned into immobility by how bad it felt, and had to get myself calmed down enough to turn on my side- which helps dull the pain enough to not feel like something really bad is happening.  Now, both of my feet are very sensitive, and I wake up with them hurting as well.  My right thigh has atrophied (shrunk), which has left my right leg weaker than the left.  The reflexes on that leg aren’t there from the knee down, and when I stand for any length of time, I begin to feel like the leg is going to give out.  If I step back and forth between legs, I can manage to get through a grocery store checkout line, but I have to lean on the cart- and I look like I have to pee real bad.  When I went to the store this week, for just a few things, not even my usual monthly trip, the pain afterwards was as bad as a ‘full trip’ to the store… it’s time to use one of those scooters, which don’t hold a lot.

One of the hardest things about these changes is that I need help.  I don’t want to need help.  My dad will help, but he has no clue about what a full month’s groceries looks like for someone who doesn’t eat out (like he does), and the running commentary can get annoying (“do you really need two of those?”, or “you’ll pay $5 for hamburger meat?”).  For short trips, he’s great.  I have a couple of high school friends who have offered to help me, which is very kind; they work long hours.  I’m also going to hit up the Bible Study group for volunteers (meets during daytime working hours, so I’m thinking they might be available for a quick trip during the day, when the stores aren’t as busy).  I now need the scooter, and need someone else to push the cart if I’m doing a full month’s shopping (for a mid-month trip, I can maneuver the scooter myself).  For the past several years, I’ve done my shopping at 1 a.m. to avoid the rude people who don’t like being behind someone who is slow.  I always move over in the aisle if someone is around, but for some, my being there at all seems to be an offense that could alter the course of their life permanently  for the worse.  It’s just been easier to avoid them, and shop when they are safely tucked away in their houses of intolerance.  But, that isn’t going to work any longer for the monthly ‘big trips’.   I need help.  😦

The chariot will arrive next Wednesday.  I have a seat cushion ordered for it.  My bio-mom suggested a tall flag attached to it.  I am considering a cup holder and bicycle horn  😀   I figure I need to make the best of it, and look at it as something that will help me be less isolated, and reduce the pain of normal life.  I will still walk around my apartment (that hurts, but it’s manageable).  I can still take the trash out; it hurts, but I can still do it.  I hope I can ‘chair walk’ (use my feet to propel myself) on the sidewalk at the place where I live, so I can go down to the pond and watch the frogs, geese, and crane-like bird that hang out there.  I haven’t been down there for at least seven years.

Changes like this are hard.  I’m thankful that I’m not in worse shape- things can always be worse.  And I’m thankful that the wheelchair is available.  Medicare and my expensive out-of-pocket supplement plan will cover it.   But it’s a sign of decline, and that is hard.  I’m only fifty-two years old.  Something I wish I’d known when I was much younger is that nobody knows how long their body will work like it was designed to work.  Even as an RN, seeing the end products of car wrecks, botched suicide attempts and recreational overdoses, and other life-changing events, I lived  a low-risk life.  I never imagined things going wrong from the inside.   When I found out I was diabetic in 1995, I thought that keeping my blood sugars and A1C in good shape would protect me… chemo totally screwed up my blood sugars in 2010-11.  I didn’t imagine my spine deteriorating.   I didn’t see my life changing as it has.  I guess nobody really does.

I guess that’s my point… live  life while you can.  Don’t spend every minute working double shifts.  Pass up some of the ‘toys’ in life, and have a GOOD savings account in case you have your life turned upside-down through no fault of your own.  Drive a used car.  Live in a house that is “enough”, but not so much that it takes over your finances.  Always get disability insurance.  ALWAYS.   (That has been the difference between living in some public housing pit, and a decent apartment.)  Learn what you need, and what you want- and to be thankful for the needs that are met.   Plan for craziness and be absolutely grateful for the mundane.  And don’t give up when the craziness hits.  Do all you can to be independent, but learn when you need help.   But no matter what, be thankful.

 

Why Handicapped Parking Spaces Matter… Even If I “Look” OK

To look at me, I probably don’t look ‘disabled’- or ‘that bad’.  I have all of my limbs, don’t use a cane because of vision issues, am not in a wheelchair all of the time (though I will have a wheelchair by the end of the month for longer distances), etc.  I don’t have contracted or withered limbs, use braces to support my legs, or any other visible disability.  And yet handicapped parking spaces make it possible for me to go to the store on my own. Period.

My disabilities include peripheral neuropathy (my right leg is deteriorating and both feet burn at times), autonomic neuropathy (if I stand up for a period of time my heart rate accelerates and my blood pressure drops, or if I get overheated, I pass out), degenerative disc disease (my spine is ‘collapsing’ from the discs deteriorating- lots of pain), degenerative joint disease (have had one knee replacement, should have had another, but leukemia got in the way, and both hips have bone spurs), and at times my chronic pain is really bad.  (Did I mention fibromyalgia?)  It’s always there, but some days are worse than others.  I’m a gimp.  Who might keel over if I’m not careful and prepared.  I am also very intolerant of temperatures over about 65 degrees for any length of time.

Having handicapped parking makes going out at all possible.  That along with my cooling vest.  Those two things (and soon the wheelchair) make it possible to be ‘normal’- or at least take a stab at doing normal things.   I already look weird from leftover chemotherapy side effects: my eyebrows never grew back right, and I’m much heavier than I was prior to cancer.  I keep my head shaved because of how my hair affects severe heat intolerance.  But having a closer parking space gives me some freedom on the days when I am able to leave home.  It’s a big deal !

When I see someone park in a handicapped parking place, but leave someone IN the car in that place, and walk in to the store with no indication of disability, I get annoyed.  Now there are a lot of disabilities where the person is able to move around relatively normally.  Some folks have handicapped parking for emotional disabilities.  Those are valid.  But I’ve heard people talk (or read) about using their friend/spouse/partner’s disability placard to get good parking.  That is illegal, and morally reprehensible to me. Then there are those with no placard or handicapped license plate at all.  On a day when I can leave home, those closer parking places are crucial !  They’re not just a convenience.  I can’t leave home just any old day.   Walking an extra 20 feet can be incredibly painful.  More pain can cause unstable blood pressure and heart rate, and that can lead to losing consciousness.

I know which stores I can go to and be safe, because of the proximity of the handicapped places (one hospital here has the handicapped places down a flight of stairs or a lengthy ramp… great planning; they do have valet parking until 5 p.m., so I have to schedule any tests prior to then).  I know how far I can walk before getting a grocery cart to hold on to.  I haven’t been to a mall in about ten years, except for once when I was waiting for a new battery to be installed in my car- I gimped to the food court for a soda while waiting, then gimped back.   I’m hoping the wheelchair will allow me to ‘chair walk’ (use my feet to propel myself as a form of exercise and general mobility) in the mall.  I’m not a huge fan of shopping, so it’s more of an issue of seeing other human beings and being more mobile. As it is now, I shop about once a month, and aside from my dad, I might not see other people for weeks. It’s been like this for 11 1/2 years.  I have joined a Bible study recently, which has been great.  It’s hard to walk from the parking lot  (with handicapped parking) to the room we use, but I’m getting there. It takes about 36-48 hours to recover.

But without handicapped parking, leaving home is not even an option for me and millions of others.   Staying as independent as possible is really important- not only to maintain whatever physical mobility is left or do ‘routine’ chores,  but to interact with others.  For those who need handicapped parking, it is not a convenience.  It’s a necessity.

It’s Been A Bad Few Months…

I’m so frustrated with the increase in limitations over the last few months, especially with my grandma not doing well (and wanting to see her).  I haven’t said a lot recently, but it’s not because things are better.  More things are falling apart.  My aunt called this morning to offer to come and get me to go see grandma (about 50 miles round-trip), and I can’t do it.  I hate this.  I really want to see her.  I had a cousin offer as well (and an uncle volunteered my aunt)- so several offers.  I feel SO badly for declining.  But it’s just not physically safe at this time.  😦

It kind of started with the reflux/GERD getting really bad.  I have had an endoscopy and barium swallow.  Those showed chronic gastritis and some esophageal spasms.  I still have two tests I need to get done (gastric emptying and pressure of esophageal spasms), but haven’t been able to because my spine/back and leg pain being too bad to get through the tests.  I had one test a few days ago (EMG) that showed peripheral sensory neuropathy, that is progressive.   What that means is that my limbs (mostly legs at this point) are subject to strange pain and sensations, or lack of sensation.  At some time, this will lead to not feeling my feet on the floor when walking.   That’s a safety issue.  I also drop a lot of stuff, and have more trouble opening jars, even when ‘unlocking’ the vacuum with an old fashioned bottle opener.  I’m sending for one of those gimp things for opening jars soon.

The pain in my legs has been a burning pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt.  Fortunately, it’s not constant, and mostly at night (which makes sleeping unpleasant, if not impossible). I wake up frequently to that ‘what IS that?’ until I can fully become aware that it’s the neuropathy pain.  Now, both feet are beginning to burn at night, though not every night.  It seems like it’s progressing fairly quickly.  My neurologist did the EMG (pins into legs with electricity run through them, to measure muscle and nerve responses; sounds bad- isn’t that big of a deal).  The MRI was horrifically painful, which normally isn’t the case.  I couldn’t finish the “with” contrast part, as the “without” contrast part took about 1.5 hours, and by the end of that, I was in tears.  I joke around during bone marrow biopsies- so I’m not a wimp. I was just in too much pain this time around.

Over the last several months, I’ve been having more trouble with my blood pressure and heart rate.  The first time I was really aware of my BP being low was at an oncology follow-up appointment when it was 80/50.  I’d been really tired- but I’m  disabled with autonomic dysfunction- I’m tired a lot anyway.  BUT, at that visit, my kidney  function was moderately impaired (at the levels it was at, it would have been considered Stage 3 out of 5, of chronic kidney disease).  Thankfully, with some additional fluids, I was able to get it to the vague acceptable range (normal levels are 90-100; the standard lab values only measure >60, or the specific numbers if <60).  I’d prefer to know the actual number no matter what they are.  Even 60 is stage 2.   But anyway, I dodged a bullet with that.

At that same oncology appointment, I noticed that my A1C had gone up, so got myself off to my endocrinologist to have my insulin adjusted.  With my 2016 Medicare part D drug plan, I will be able to get the “good” insulin, instead of the half-assed stuff I’ve been able to afford over the past 3 years.  Insulin is ridiculously expensive- yet until next year, Medicare has been more wiling to pay for dialysis, amputations, blindness, heart attacks, and strokes before making good, up-to-date insulin a realistic possibility.

My blood pressure meds, which paradoxically maintain my blood pressure (or are supposed to) have been adjusted three times since this summer.  I’ve noticed some orthostatic intolerance on several occasions, but once the meds were adjusted, things would get better for a while.  But it seems that no matter what the dose,  after a couple of weeks, I get symptomatic again.  When driving to my dad’s friend’s house for dinner one night, I started getting lightheaded; that is a bad situation in the car.  I got home OK, but it shook me up. I’m being referred to a cardiologist/electrophysiologist for ANOTHER work-up on this.   I’ve looked up the name of the guy I’m being referred to- and he’s a specialist in heart rhythm and orthostatic issues… perfect for what is (and has been) going on.

I need to see my pain doc, now that there are some answers as to what type of pain is going on.   All pain isn’t  equal.  What is going on is more neuropathic pain, as well as the pain from degenerating discs in my spine (neck to tail).  I’m not sure what is going to be done about that. I don’t like the spine injections.  They aren’t painful, but just don’t last all that long.  I’m not a big fan of being on “routine” pain meds, either (instead of just “as needed”), but I may have to suck it up and just take them.

So, there’s my internal med doc (primary doc), gastroenterologist, oncologist (just follow-up at this point), endocrinologist, neurologist, pain doc, and cardiologist (to come).  Seven doctors in about four months.  I loathe adding doctors to an already complicated mess, but at least until things stabilize, I just have to see them.  Fortunately, my pulmonologist (sleep apnea), plastic surgeon (scalp cysts), and dermatologist (psoriasis) get a break for now.

But the timing on any of this is horrible.  My grandma is dying (as in actively).  I want to see her, and don’t feel it’s safe to go 25 miles each way to see her.  It’s not because I don’t want to.  She was my best friend during those early years on disability when I knew nobody here (and had no access to Facebook or other online social connections and reconnections).  We’d talk about so many things and laugh about stuff in the past.  We’d also reminisce about my mom (who died in 2003).  She’s almost 101 years old, and has been the glue holding our family together.  All get-togethers and gatherings centered around her.   I have called her care-taker who tells her I called, and that I love her.   I know she knows that I do, but it’s still hard not to be able to go down and hold her hand one last time.

Sometimes Being Homebound and Isolated is Really Hard

Considering what has gone on with three people who have been very important in my life this year (they died), I have to know that I’m very fortunate.  Two had battles with horrible cancers between 9 and 10 months long, and one had a sudden collapse with an aortic dissection, but lived two more days…. she had been over a few weeks earlier talking about limited time. Maybe she know something was up, or was just being realistic that at 89 years old, she wanted to get things in order.   We had a really nice visit that I’m so thankful for.  The one who had the 9 month battle with colon cancer is a cousin I had a lot of  phone and e-mail contact with during her horrific struggle.  The other was my dad’s lady friend from church;she and  his first cousin (with the aortic dissection) had services last week.  I wasn’t able to go to either, but did at least meet the lady friend’s family, who I’d heard about for years, and felt a need to pay respects to them; we’d all heard about each other for years. I couldn’t stay long, but at least I popped in after the service for a few minutes.  I will miss them especially during the holidays, but also in general, as they were either family, or just about, as she and dad were buddies for church dinners, going out with friends, etc.

Overall, I really do realize how fortunate I am, but I don’t have many perky days when all is sunny and wonderful. There are some times when I just get overwhelmed when I think about what I used to be like.  Other days, I do my best to get by, and I do still have a lot that I enjoy from home. I still get to help out family and friends with medical  questions/translations- and I’m very glad to do that.  It helps me feel useful in some way.  And I get rather nostalgic about the days when I was working 3 12-hour shifts a week as a charge nurse in some sort of facility (hospital, drug/alcohol rehab, adolescent psych), or the Monday-Friday desk jobs entering assessment data into the computer for Medicare reimbursement and/or care planning for skilled nursing facilities.  I also did some stints on neuro floors, head injury rehab, and pediatrics- so a greatly varied career that I miss.  A great thing about nursing, especially in Central, rural Texas between 1985 – 2002, is that when I’d get bored with something, I had no problem finding another job within days.  Sometimes the offers were waiting for me on my answering machine when I got home from the interview.  Being an ADN, and not having a 4-year degree was never an issue, either as a staff nurse, charge nurse, weekend supervisor (only RN in the building/facility), or department head.  I was lucky to graduate from nursing school in 1985 when we were expected to know how to do procedures and skills, or we didn’t graduate.

Then came disability in 2004.  I fought through 8 years (starting in Texas) of trying different medications to regulate the fainting and weird episodes where I turn beet red, then a bluish red, before becoming pale and cold like a corpse. For eight years, I muddled through, and even had several decent years after the neurologist down there wanted to try an off-label medication.  By the time I was told I was no longer OK to work (by my boss in IL in 2004), it crushed me.  My identity had always been as an RN.  I didn’t have a husband or kids, so no other roles.  My relationships were all with co-workers in Texas ( even though I’d moved back to Illinois, where I was basically thrown away- nobody returned calls, and one former coworker went out of her way to avoid me at the grocery store).  I’d gotten sick- I hadn’t embezzled anything !  I guess it’s a Yankee thing. :/

That started some very chaotic years of figuring out what meds would help with the worsening symptoms (fainting more often, with some injuries including a concussion, and torn meniscus on my right knee requiring a knee replacement, some very strange medication interactions that caused a small stroke, many blood clots in my right lung, and ultimately leukemia (AML, subtype 3, or APL) which required chemo that worsened the autonomic disorder with thigh atrophy and increased sensitivity to heat).  I was a ‘regular’ at one of the ERs early on, and they treated me like trash.  Had I not gone to a decent ER with the blood clots in my lungs, I likely would have died – they were numerous in all three lobes of my right lung and pulmonary artery, and in various acute, subacute, and chronic stages.  The apex of my heart had pressure against it from my lung pushing into it.  It was bad. I only went to the hospital because I thought I was having a heart attack.

I’ve been essentially homebound for ten years.  I’m not sure that many people really understand what that means when “friends” here (coworkers) disappeared as soon as I left the parking lot on my last day.  I do have my dad, and a couple of friends here- one in particular makes an effort to come over periodically, and has done a LOT of work helping me get things organized so that I can get “stuff” minimized around here. She has been incredibly helpful once we found each other again on FB a few years ago.  I have been invited to family holiday parties- which I can attend one of, after everyone eats, since hot food in close proximity to body heat of other people is a problem- so I go when I’m less likely to stick out as being totally weird.  I really like that family bunch, and I hope I don’t come across as not liking them.  I just can’t tolerate a room over 66 degrees.

There are days when I don’t hear another human voice other than my dad (who is 82 and healthy, so I’m very thankful for that). We try to do daily “attendance” checks with each other, and he is really a huge asset in my life for many reasons… he always has my back.  I know he will never give me bad advice.   I might not see another human more than once a week (again, dad) for a few weeks at a time.  The phone rarely rings… usually it’s dad, my birth mom, or a reminder for  a doctors’ appointment or test (this week it’s an abdominal/pelvic CT for some intense bloating likely related to the autonomic problem).  Facebook is my primary form of contact, and I’m incredibly grateful for that; prior to getting this laptop from my birth mom and cousin, I was even more alone… now I can at least keep up with people I’ve known for years, whether from work, family, or childhood.   I challenge anyone to unplug the phone, have nobody show up at their door, and not hear another live voice in person for days (and occasionally weeks) at a time. It takes getting used to- and even now, it’s still hard.

I miss seeing co-workers and patients.  I miss being able to just go out and do something social without having to deal with the logistics of cooling vest equipment, distance from home, how I’m going to get there, can I leave if I need to, etc.  There are no ‘going out to lunch’ days (who would I go with?).  My dad is the one I go places with on the days when I can go (and I know I’m the most undependable ‘date’ with frequent last minute cancellations because of symptoms of some sort).  He knows that when my cheeks turn a deep bluish-red that it’s time to go.  And he’s always willing to take me anywhere.

People don’t understand that I can’t unload the dishwasher and fold laundry in the same day, or I end up with spasms from the base of my skull to my lower back, and am useless for a day or two.  Chronic pain isn’t ‘seen’.  Fibromyalgia and degenerative disc disease are chronic and  the DDD, will get worse (degenerative is a clue)- so I pace what I do as much as possible.  I miss the days when I’d set my mind to doing something around my apartment, and not stop until it was done.  That’s long gone.  I ‘look OK’, so I’m not sure people understand that I really am doing the best I can.  I live independently (getting many things delivered to my apartment from Schwan’s- frozen foods, Amazon, and Walmart).  I go to the store about once a month… maybe twice if it’s a good week about halfway between disability checks.   I still want to do as much as I can myself, so I don’t lose any more muscle mass.  The initial chemo took up about 20 pounds of muscle, and then the neuropathy in my thighs took much more – while I gained weight on chemo (not easy for my head to deal with, or to get rid of the poundage).

I’ve written about the expenses of Medicare and medications not covered in other posts. Buying insulin from a part D plan guarantees that anyone on it will go into the dreaded ‘donut hole’ where meds are NOT covered by the Medicare drug plans.  Most diabetics are on several medications.  The donut hole is dangerous.   The ‘good’ insulin is upwards of $200 per vial….between the two types of insulin I use , if I got it from the part D company, that would be $600 a month just for that- minimum… Thank God for the  cheap stuff from Walmart; I’d be sunk without it.  I don’t understand why insulin (the better stuff ) – a drug that is absolutely necessary for many diabetics- is so  unattainable.   I worry about this sort of stuff…

But mostly, I miss the things that I used to take for granted… seeing coworkers, having daily contact with other humans, having a purpose that felt like ‘me’ (being an RN), and not having to plan for every contingency every time I leave the apartment, even if it’s only for an hour.   My short term memory and word-finding are still not back to normal after chemo.   Going to the store for fresh produce every week has been long gone.  I might figure out something with dad, to go with him a couple of times  a week to get fresh fruit and veggies.

I really do have a LOT to be thankful for.  I have survived a lot.  During my 55 year old cousin’s final weeks, she weakly asked why I was allowed to live and she wasn’t- not in a nasty way, but in a tone that just sounded like she was trying to make sense of things.   I don’t know.  I know I must have some reason to still be here.  I hope I can make a difference somehow.  The blog helps… I keep track of my stats, and more than 100 countries have hit more than 16, 000 times.  At least people know I’m still here… that and Facebook. And my dad and a couple of people I see every month or two.  That they take time out of their busy lives (and they are busy !!) means a lot.

I’ve got God, my dad, my birth mom, folks on FB, and my dog- who is my main companion and pretty good at it 🙂   So, even though I miss what my life was, I’m at least alive, and still able to live alone, and figure out how to get things I need.   I truly am thankful for that. I know that there are others out there who struggle a lot more.  I remember those people I used to take care of that were never going to live on their own again.  I don’t know where the dysautonomia, diabetes, degenerative disc disease, degenerative  joint disease, or lung scars from the clots are going to lead me… but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.  I always seem to land on my feet 😉

Dysautonomia Awareness Month…. I’m Very ‘Aware’ All Year, Every Year

OK.  October is Dysautonomia Awareness Month… With ‘Breast Cancer Awareness Month’ at the same time, nobody will care about dysautonomia.  My guess is that men are more than likely behind the sanctity of boobs, so along with being a rare disorder that people really are NOT aware of, there is the whole ta ta thing that people go all pink for, and dysautonomia remains a mystery to most, if they ever hear about it at all.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ‘against’ cancer awareness, but who on the planet with a pulse and working brainstem isn’t aware of  breast cancer?  They never seem to mention that %5 or so cases of breast cancer are IN men. That question used to drive men mad when I did patient intake admission assessments when I was working. I had to explain I wasn’t being snarky- it’s something men need to be aware of if they feel anything different ‘there’.

I’m an RN (disabled since 2004, but have kept up with my license requirements, and use my background to keep myself alive). I’ve known, and do know, many women who had  breast cancer (including my mom, who died in 2003 after surviving multiple cancer sites for 17 years starting with breast cancer, and dying from something unrelated other than the dementia caused by brain radiation that made her less than ‘worth helping’ when she got acutely ill in AZ.  Dad flew with her home, emergently.  We went straight to the hospital, and she was dead in 2 days). I understand that any cancer diagnosis is a nightmare (I’ve been there, with APL leukemia).  (And why is there no blue ribbon with balls on it for testicular cancer awareness? Ladies? ).   Anyway, dysautonomia is something that I’ve lived with for decades- probably much longer than it was diagnosed.  It didn’t flatten me for good until 2004.  And most doctors are clueless.  The general population can’t even pronounce it.  Dis-auto-gnome-ee-ah.

Every morning, I wake up not knowing if I’ll be able to actually get out of bed and begin my day without my head spinning as my blood pressure and heart rate tanks (with neurocardiogenic syncope) or pulse going higher as I’m vertical, if the more POTS symptoms act up. (Not everyone has just one set of dysautonomia symptoms or diagnosis).  Will my peripheral vision begin to narrow, and will my hearing get muffled?  Or will I actually be able to get up and not have to lie down again?  When I get in the shower, will I get that ‘sweet spot’ in the temperature of the water where I can take a warm shower, or will it be too hot, and once again start the process of passing out?  My heat intolerance isn’t about temperature preference or comfort, it’s about staying conscious.   My home thermostat must stay around or below 65-66 degrees year round (including when it’s 20 degrees outside; I had my bedroom AC unit- different from the central AC in the house- on 64 degrees when the wind chill outside was MINUS 20 degrees F), or I start to have symptoms.  Fifty degrees is OK if I’m outside for the rare times I can be outside (the sun adds heat regardless of air temp).  I wear a light snap-front sweatshirt, left open,  when it’s in the 40s.  If I leave home to go to an appointment where I have no control over the thermostat, I have to wear a cooling vest with 5 pounds of freezer pack inserts.  To stay conscious.  I’ll start to ‘burn up’ for no good reason (and these are NOT hot flashes- I’ve had those, and they are totally different).  Or I’ll get so tired, that doing anything is overwhelming and a huge safety risk if symptoms continue to get worse.  I’ve keeled over and whacked my head, or as has also happened, partially torn my ACL and medial meniscus.

I ‘look OK’… aside from being overweight, and having very few eyebrows post chemo (which at this point has to be permanent), I look fine.  That’s all well and good- but it can also be very frustrating when trying to explain why I can’t do something.  I also have multiple ‘other’ medical and orthopedic problems (discs, knees, shoulders, hips, spine, epilepsy, diabetes, yadda, yadda, yadda… most body systems are impacted by something), so when I’m walking I look a bit gimpy, but the dysautonomia is  invisible if I’m not lit up like a red stop light from severe flushing when the episodes kick in.  My thigh muscles have atrophied (probably from diabetes and chemo), which looks weird, and makes walking quite tiresome. My arms are also atrophying.  But people really don’t ‘get’ the whole dysautonomia thing.

The autonomic nervous system controls involuntary body functions- blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, flushing, muscle/brain signals, etc.  There are many ways this can all go wrong.  Initially, I had problems with passing out, as well as my right pupil dilating.  Then my gait would get wonky, and eventually I’d keel over, unconscious,  and then sleep hard for hours.  Temperature dysregulation hadn’t shown up yet.  I was in Texas when this all started with the passing out and other ‘not good for work’ stuff, and I did fairly well at first.  When it was first a ‘thing’, I was living in a house (with no central AC…in Texas. In July) with a coworker to share expenses (perfect situation; we had opposite schedules, so it was basically like living alone. My room was in the front of the house, so shaded by trees outside. There were room AC units in the bedrooms).  My housemate would hear me hit the floor from her room at the other end of the house, and find me passed out on the wood floor.  I thought I was just ‘nervous’ after a recent hospitalization for eating disorders, but she said that there was nothing  ‘nervous’ about me that she’d seen, and she really thought I had some type of physical medical issue.  One  night I couldn’t get up off the floor like usual (about 10 minutes after coming to), and I agreed that she could call 911.  That started the whole testing process. I’d keeled over about 10-12 times in three weeks. I finally gave in.

I was lucky that I had a neurologist in 1996 who thought I had dysautonomia. She sent me to see an electrophysiologist (EKG specialist) in San Antonio, who ended up doing a tilt table test.  My blood pressure dropped to 44/16, and heart rate dropped into the 50s (heart rate should go up, and compensate for a low BP, though a BP that low isn’t usually associated with ‘coming back’).  I was put on the first of several meds, and sent home (driving myself 60 miles after nearly passing out- I had long stretches of interstate with little traffic where I was going, and a plan if I felt bad while in the car).

I continued to have issues at work, but eventually meds were sorted out (gabapentin, a benzodiazepine, and a beta blocker), and I was doing well enough to get my work done. Additional disorders were ruled out (MS, myasthenia gravis, pheochromocytoma, brain tumor, stroke, etc).   The nursing home I went to work at next had some very accommodating supervisors, which made a huge difference in not being panicky when I felt something coming on (the prior place did a lot of ‘threatening’, and since I was the only RN on campus at a drug/alcohol detox center on weekends, I understood the need for a conscious RN – but I didn’t want to stop working; being a nurse is who I AM- or was).  I had a mattress overlay in my office at the nursing home,  to put on the floor if I needed to lie down.  I also had a fan from home, as temperature had begun to be something I had to keep ‘moderate’.  If an episode hit, I lied down; when it was over, I finished my work.

Fast forward, and I was back  in my hometown, trying to keep things together at work, and it just started falling more and  more apart. I was hauled out by ambulance 12+ times in a month or so at another nursing home (office RN assessment job), and it was clear that I wasn’t able to keep working. I don’t remember any of the trips to the hospital, just the nastiness of being seen as a ‘frequent flyer’ by the nurses and doctors who’d never heard of dysautonomia, and made cruel assumptions.   I’d left a pediatric hospital job since I was terrified I’d get dizzy/lightheaded when handling very tiny babies (or larger, heavy ones), and that just wasn’t something I was willing to risk (along with some other issues with the job itself).  I had to deal with a  neurologist on my insurance plan at the hospital, who seemed clueless- she just kept increasing the gabapentin until it was 3600mg/day, and that did nothing but make the seizures worse since they are sleep stage-related, and I was nearly always getting close to the early stages of sleep, that were confirmed on video-EEG over a week in a teaching hospital by another electrophysiologist.  Once on disability (and no Medicare for two years after being ‘approved’ for disability for medical reasons, and it takes 2 years to get Medicare- so that made no sense), I found a neurologist who did know about dysautonomia, as well as a internal medicine doc who was quite familiar with the disorder.  With multiple medications (roughly 25 pills/day on a good day; more if not- and 4-5 shots of insulin) and total control over my thermostat, (edited for 2020) I’m able to watch TV in bed with my legs up, and get to the end of my driveway to get the mail, or take out the trash (I live alone).

Now, my ‘normal’ consists of having the air conditioner on when it’s below freezing  outside.  When there is snow piled up outside, my AC unit is the only one with space around it where the snow has melted from the heat generated by the AC.  I leave home only for doctor’s appointments and if the dog has to go to the vet or groomers.  Everything has to be ‘paced’. I have a self-imposed driving distance limit, that my neurologist is comfortable with (I know if I can’t drive, and don’t put others or myself at risk).  If I do laundry, I can’t unload the dishwasher.  If I take trash to the curb, I can’t vacuum in the same day.  And I struggle to maintain any muscle tone, to avoid getting worse… but the chemo I had to have to survive the leukemia has caused deterioration.  I guess there are tradeoffs with everything.  Nothing is taken for granted.

Being on Medicare has been a horrific eye-opener.  I used to do the assessments that determined reimbursement for Medicare patients at the nursing home I worked at in Texas.  I was professionally familiar with Medicare.  Then I was on it.  Medicare is expensive.  There is the part B (doctors’ office and equipment/supply part) monthly premium (about $110).  There is the supplement plan since Medicare doesn’t cover huge portions of hospitalizations and tests (so add another $310 per month).  The part D (prescription plan) is about $75 per month, and between over the counter medications I MUST have, as well as paying huge copays for insulin until I get to the ‘catastrophic’ phase of part D, that adds about $350-400 a month.  SO if all goes well, nearly $1000/month goes out the door for medical expenses. I chose a supplement that pretty much ensures no out of pocket expenses for doctor’s office visits, tests, and (knock on wood) hospital costs.  When I was in for 6 weeks for leukemia in 2010, the bill was $300K…. nearly 1/3 of a million dollars.  I made  payments on what they didn’t write off for 4 1/2 years. That was in addition to the other medical expenses. Advantage plans are only good for people who don’t get sick. When I signed up for one, I never imagined leukemia would come into the picture.

Dysautonomia can be mild or fatal.  With the chemo causing deterioration, and knowing what I was like beforehand, I don’t think I have the fatal type (Johnny Cash did).  I have the invisible, life-altering, disabling, survivable kind that is inconsistent, and not something I have much control over, other than the thermostat and pacing all activities.  Some symptoms may be worse than others on different days.  I can have one cheek very hot, and flushed to almost a blue-red, while the other is cool and has normal coloring.  I can have blue fingernails, not from lack of oxygen, but because of constricted blood flow.   My heart rate has dropped into the 30’s for no good reason (that bought me 5 days on a cardiac floor with nurses who were very nervous about the epilepsy- padding the side rails and putting a bed alarm on my mattress that went off if I got up to go to the bathroom- and GADS, they panicked when I got up to walk in the halls for some type of activity one night…. how did they think I lived at home?  Alarmed, padded bed? I worked as an RN on a neuro floor, and we were careful, but not crazy pants paranoid… seizure patients all have different symptoms and THEY are the ones who are experts in how epilepsy shows up in THEM. It’s rarely the landed-fish flopping around that is on TV. Many, many epileptics work and have pretty normal lives, being compliant with medications and doctor appointments).  Sometimes one arm is flushed and hot, and the other cool and pale.  I’ve looked ‘dead’ per one former supervisor, with breathing so shallow and extreme paleness, it scared her many times.  I live alone, so have had to learn what sets me off… sometimes it’s as simple as a ‘scare’ on a TV show that wasn’t expected. A horrifically nasty post on social media can trigger a flight or flight response that gets things going (so I am on social media at my own risk, and anticipate the jerks chiming in about things they know nothing about-or who can’t tolerate that someone has an opinion that differs from theirs).  But heat and pain are my main triggers.  I’ve been in constant, chronic pain since 1995- that’s harder to control than the temperature. I’ve only recently given in to ongoing pain meds with a pain doc I’ve seen on and off since around 2008. The epidural injections help some, depending on what gets ‘shot’, but they don’t last long.  I’ve tried medical cannabis and CBD- didn’t like the THC at all. The CBD is good if I have to sleep, and/or need something to tire me out enough to quit trying to do too much.  It’s been 25 years of not remembering being pain free (which isn’t a reasonable expectation at this point, but controlling pain to get to a level that is tolerable IS a reasonable expectation). I need pain meds to function enough to keep up my house (which I have to pace).  I’d rather be here, alone than in some assisted dependence situation with people I don’t want to know, and time schedules I don’t want to have shoved down my throat.  I’m independent. I may be in pain to the point of being in bed after a day of 2 loads of laundry- but I’m in MY house, with MY dog, doing MY ‘chores’.

Some people have POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardic syndrome), which causes symptoms if someone is standing for varying lengths of time- or sitting up for longer than they can tolerate. Their heart rate goes out of control simply by being vertical. Lots of folks with that need wheelchairs for safety at some point, and some might ‘just’ need a walker with a seat for safety if they need to sit down in a hurry.  There is neurocardiogenic syncope- which is actually a simple faint, until it’s a pattern and keeps happening. It becomes something that is no big surprise, based on triggers (different for everyone).  There is pure autonomic failure – where nothing works right most of the time.  Shy-Drager syndrome is one of those total failure syndromes, and even saliva production is involved.  Dysautonomia isn’t one thing.  It’s a combination of symptoms that are generated by an abnormality of the autonomic nervous system.  Some are relatively minor, and others require feeding tubes (I’ve learned to put my own in since I’d done it many, many times on patients when I was working, and use it for fluids since doctors here don’t believe in intermittent IV fluids) and other external measures to make it a little more tolerable.  More people have dysautonomia than are diagnosed, per research estimates. It can affect any age group or gender, though females tend to be diagnosed more often. I’ve had symptoms since I was a teenager, but was blown off until it couldn’t be blown off- an unconscious body on the floor isn’t generally “nothing”. I recently read about the connection to concussions (I’ve had at least 5-6).   It can be seen as a conversion disorder or other emotionally based problem, which causes improper diagnoses, and completely inappropriate medications.  I encourage anyone who finds their symptoms listed in the informational links to talk to their doctor.  There isn’t a cure, but it’s generally not fatal, and can be treated.  Getting used to the new normal is the hardest part, as is not being understood.  And isolation takes a while to adjust to. When the pandemic (2020 edit) caused “stay at home” orders, it was literally how things have been for the last 16 years for me, and countless others who know to be thankful for the days when nothing goes wrong.

See the following for more information:

www.ndrf.org 

www.dysautonomiainternational.org

www.dinet.org

 

 

 

 

Former Co-Workers When I Worked Pediatrics

I was stumbling around on Facebook, and  found three of the R.N.s I worked with when I worked pediatrics, and sent ‘just saying hi’ messages.  I’m not sure they’ll see them, but I hope they do.  When I worked there, the dysautonomia had started getting much worse, and they were stuck with me some nights when I was having heart rate and blood pressure issues.   More than once, I was hauled down to the E.R.  Not good.  I was more of a liability with my inconsistent ability to stay vertical.  And I’m not sure anybody really understood what was going on.   I know I was stunned at how bad things were getting… and it scared me.  But I still thought I could work if I found something else.

Anyway, I have respect for them, and am glad I had the chance to work on a pediatric floor.  I’d taken care of kids on many other types of floors I worked  (neuro, head injury rehab, general med-surg) for years, but not a ‘real’ pediatric floor.   I greatly value the experience I got there.   I’m going to post this with a ‘public’ tag, hoping they see this if they get the messages.

When the dysautonomia first kicked in after I’d moved back from Texas, I wasn’t sure what to expect, so didn’t panic at first. I’d always been able to find some medication that helped.  I had to do a 3 week heart monitor that showed PVCs.  That was treated with medication, and it did help to some degree.  I could still feel them, but not as often.  But, I was still  able to work more than not.  I was starting to feel uneasy around the tinier babies… I would do all care and assessments without moving the baby off of the bed.  I’d ‘cradle’ them in my arms, and do everything that needed doing, but I was afraid to move them away from the safety of the cribs.

The summer months were hard on that floor because of the decreased census (kids not in school giving each other ‘bugs’). Being single, I didn’t have a spouse to help make up the difference in pay I was losing when hours were cut (I lost a month’s hours over the summer).  That was a problem.  I couldn’t work overtime when I was doing all I could to work the hours I was assigned.  Everybody got hours cut- and it was fair as far as that went, but I needed full-time work year round. The nurse manager contacted an adult med-surg manager who said she’d plug me into their schedule, but she never answered my  phone calls.  And I was getting scared.  I needed to work somewhere where  I wasn’t so anxious about the dysautonomia.  I didn’t trust my own body…but I wasn’t ready to give up working. Being a nurse has been my identity for a long time.  It was like that part of me was starting to die. But I didn’t want to give up.

I made the decision to work at a nursing home.  I’d worked in several before.  I wouldn’t have the fear of dropping a small baby/child when I’d get dizzy or feel the PVCs, and if I had to move someone, there was always a CNA around somewhere at the nursing home to do it together.  It was more team oriented- though any one of the pediatric nurses would help when asked.  I’d be pushing a medication cart around, and if needed, I could stop for a minute, bend over, and try to clear my head when the dysautonomia kicked in.   While I really was thankful for the chance to work pediatrics (the reason I went to nursing school 18 years earlier), it wasn’t a good thing in many ways anymore.   And, it was really hard to leave.  I really liked the vast majority of people I worked with.  They gave good care to the patients, which I respected.  Most of the night shift nurses were ‘older’ (not 20-somethings), and I enjoyed working with nurses closer to my age.  But I had to leave for many reasons.

I felt badly about the short notice they’d get when I was feeling the pre-syncopal symptoms.  If I was taken to the E.R. in the middle of the shift, someone (or a couple of them) would have to take care of my patients.  That wasn’t fair to them.   There were huge issues with the temperature of the break room (or any designated place I could go cool down). My heat intolerance was bad, but  at that time, I could still go into patient rooms and do what I needed to do, even if it was quite warm.  The babies’ rooms were especially warm, which they needed;  I understood that, and was  able to manage.  But it was nearly impossible to find somewhere that was cool enough for me to chart between assessments or meds (being in the rooms), see my lights going off, and do better getting through the shift- mostly because of one nurse who was considered the nurse manager’s ‘pet’.  That one nurse in particular was very nasty about the thermostat.   I didn’t care if I  was in the main area- I just NEEDED somewhere that wasn’t as hot as most of them liked it (I’ve deteriorated a lot since then, and can’t leave home without cooling vests, and my thermostat is never above 68- generally cooler, and often on when the outside temp is below 40 degrees). I leave home about once or twice a month, always with the cooling vests.   I could have pursued it with the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act), but I’m not much into ‘forcing’ someone to do the right thing.   If they’re that nasty, I’m not interested in working with them.  There were many really great nurses to work with there, but if I couldn’t stay conscious, I was no good to them or the patients.

Since then, I worked about 8 months at the nursing home before I was essentially forced to go on disability.   I was passing out ‘hard’, and hauled off by ambulance at least 10 times in the last 2 months I was there. I don’t remember any of the ambulance trips.  By then,  I had an office job doing care plans.  I tried to go back  7 months later, but it didn’t work.  My body was crashing, and the pain from the repetitive motion and shoving those 200 pound medcarts around was triggering more autonomic stuff- whether at work or at home.  Nobody there would acknowledge I existed after I had to leave.  One went out of her way to avoid me at the grocery store.  I’d gotten sick- I wasn’t some sort of criminal !!

Since being on disability, I’ve deteriorated even more, and had some more challenges come up.  I’ve had leukemia (acute myelocytic, subtype M-3, or APL) with 19 months of near daily chemo of some sort- that blew me up like a toad (face/chin is still not right after a nasty cellulitis and ear infection during the worst of the leukemia), I lost my hair twice, and my eyebrows never did come back in right. But a local news anchor died within 2 days of diagnosis from the same thing, so I’m fortunate.  I’ve got degenerative disc disease in most of my spine, so chronic pain.  I had a knee replacement.  I had multiple pulmonary emboli, and spent a lot of time hospitalized getting that straightened out, or for complications from them or the warfarin. I had testing to see if part of my brain could be removed- come to find out I need all of it :p   Chronic pain and headaches are just daily life.   Chemo makes autonomic stuff worse; my legs are atrophying, so I am ‘working’ my thighs as much as I can to maintain the strength there.

But I’m fortunate.  I’ve had great experiences as an R.N.   I miss it daily.  I’ve been of some use to some family and friends when they’ve been going through their own medical disasters.  But, I had really hoped that I’d work on that pediatric floor for a long time.  It was my dream job when I was in nursing school.   I really enjoyed most of the people I worked with.  I respected them and the care they gave those kids.  I liked the patients (the abuse cases were hard to handle emotionally; they angered me), and learned a lot.

I’m also still able to live on my own.  There are times when I wonder how long that will last, but I’m doing what I can to make sure I can live here in my own space for as many years as possible.   I have a ‘new’ dog; she’s 18 months old now, and nuts, but a lot of company.   I got her when she was 9 weeks old.   My dad is still healthy and a big part of my life. I have two friends from when I grew up here. One has helped me a lot with straightening out my apartment after being packed 4 times to return to Texas… every time I packed, something else would go on medically; I’m no longer able to travel very far.  The TSA has issues with my cooling vests (they turn into liquid), and I can’t be ‘contained’ in something with no room to get up and move around. But,  I have adjusted how I do things (order many items online, get Schwan’s food delivered, shop in the middle of the night when it’s cooler, and there are fewer people getting huffy because I don’t move as fast as they do, etc.).   There are ways to get most things done.

SO, if any of those nurses I worked with see this, thank you for being part of the good things I remember when  I worked with you.   I may have only been there for eight months, but you left good impressions, and it was long enough to respect you.  I wish you all well.   I didn’t know how to handle what had started getting bad, and I’m SO  sorry for the inconvenience I was for you, as well as the times I sort of spooked some of the nurses I worked with when I’d hit the floor.   But mostly, thanks for the good parts 🙂

Dysautonomia episode w/ chest blotching, severe flushing, lightheadedness, and other symptoms that come and go with various intensities.

Dysautonomia episode w/ chest blotching, severe flushing, lightheadedness, and other symptoms that come and go with various intensities.

Sorting Through The Symptoms…

 I’m whining.  *** Warning *** I’m not chipper and smiley right now…

Read at your own risk 😉

This has been a weird few weeks.  Actually, things started to get worse with the dysautonomia during chemo for leukemia, which was fairly expected, but it’s getting worse.  Chemo messes with autonomic dysfunction, especially with diabetics, or those with previously diagnosed dysautonomia.  Add in some menopause, and changes in some medications/insulin- and the party just keeps getting better.  I’m tired of trying to figure out what is from what (fibromyalgia/chronic pain, chronic migraines, chronic headaches, reactions to foods, etc).

This past weekend (a few days after two epidural injections- one in my thoracic spine, and one in the lumbar spine), I had some horrific nights with severe leg spasms and cramping. Normally, I don’t have any type of reaction to the steroid injections, other than a day or so of higher than usual blood sugars, so I didn’t really think that was the cause.   I’ve had these  spasms before, but usually getting up once and forcing my feet into a ‘flat’ position, then walking around for a few minutes generally helps.  Friday night was like that.  Saturday night was a nightmare.  I was up every 45-60 minutes, with spasms that actually made the calf muscle (the ‘drumstick’ one) have an indentation in it (like a shallow dish) until I could get the muscle relaxed.  These types of muscle spasms are incredibly painful, and I find myself doing  sort of breathing that reminds me of someone giving birth on TV. Or acting like it.

I finally gave in and called my pain doc early Sunday morning – around 7:30 a.m.  He was very prompt in calling back, and heard me out when I  asked about serotonin syndrome- which he didn’t think was likely. That was good news (no need to go to the ER).   He did  tell me to not take the tramadol anymore, just in case.  I’ve been on methadone for pain for several months now, and had noticed that it wasn’t working as well with that original dose (which spooks me after watching people detox from methadone when I worked drug/alcohol detox.  It’s THE worst type of detox that I’ve ever seen -and I’ve seen lots of alcoholics, cocaine/speed addicts, heroin/opiate addicts, and benzodiazepine addicts- they have a ‘bonus’ 10-15 days after they stop taking the benzos, with another round of acute symptoms, etc).  I’ve been chicken about even taking methadone- but it’s a legit pain med, not expensive- AND, when used as prescribed, it’s safe. I use it as prescribed, and it still gives me the creeps.  I’m lucky to have found a pain doc who doesn’t just write prescriptions right and left.  There are ‘rules’ for being one of his patients.  I respect that.  At any rate, he told me to take a bit more methadone then and another muscle relaxant, and try to get some rest.   I did as I was told, and did get some sleep.  During the worst part of the spasms, it feels like the muscle is being torn from the bone- that has stopped, thank God.   Today has been one of fatigue- but no more spasms.

Trying to figure out what is going on when I start having symptoms can be tricky.  I had e-mailed my primary doc about the symptoms on Friday evening, and she wants me to have some lab work done, which is a good thing.  As a diabetic, I’m a little on the paranoid side about my kidneys.  The chemo was hard on my blood sugars, and I’ve got them MUCH better- but still some wacky ones here and there.  I’ve had a lot of peripheral and autonomic neuropathy symptoms- so that’s sort of my ‘default’ assumption when something is weird.  I get flushed, my skin is hot- but I can feel cold (strange for me), I get blotchy areas on my chest, and in general don’t look OK….

Dysautonomia episode w/ chest blotching, severe flushing, lightheadedness, and other symptoms that come and go with various intensities.

Dysautonomia episode w/ chest blotching, severe flushing, lightheadedness, and other symptoms that come and go with various intensities.

It’s hard to know if muscle cramps could be from potassium, sodium, calcium, or magnesium deficiencies (and those can get really bad- as in don’t make plans for next weekend, since you could be six-foot under by then).  Bulimics are very prone to those- and electrolyte deficiencies are big in sudden deaths from eating disordered patients.  But I’m not in that category any longer, thank God.  The peripheral neuropathy (likely diabetes related) in my legs doesn’t help.  My thighs have deteriorated, and actually shrunk (posterior thighs)- so they tend to hurt faster than before, after doing anything.

My blood pressure has been crazy again (directly from dysautonomia changes), and I’m going to have to start a different form of propranolol (Inderal), as every Medicare part D (drug plan) formulary I checked has cut out the extended release from the generic list.  It’s been generic for a LONG time- but now it’s priced in the ‘preferred BRAND’ category.  I have too many meds to spend a $42 co-pay for 90 days for one med (well, actually two- they cut the extended release seizure meds as well- but I do OK on the regular release form of that).  I already have to pay out of pocket for insulin and syringes, since getting them would push me into the ‘coverage gap’ (donut hole) requiring ALL meds to be out of pocket- which is a map for going straight to non-compliance.  And a non-compliant patient is loathed by medical professionals.  Doesn’t matter WHY someone doesn’t take their meds. There are a LOT of us out here who have to juggle medical expenses to be sure there are funds for the entire year.   Medicare is not free.   Anyway, the symptoms are acting weird, and some days, it’s hard to get much of anything done.  BUT, I still have so much to be thankful for.  I can still think, and put together what I think is going on so I can tell my docs the information they need to know.

Menopause is a special little treat that makes the dysautonomia worse. I have had a few hot flashes- and thank GOD that they aren’t the same as my general heat intolerance.  They are brief, and feel like fire from inside… I adjust the air conditioner (had it on when it was 17 degrees Fahrenheit this winter), and ride it out.  I hadn’t expected the ‘morning sickness’ from the hormonal mayhem, so Phenergan and Zofran have become good friends.

Oh well, done venting 😉   It’s been unpleasant.  But, I’m still living indoors, and have the blog and other online interactions (though the public comments on most sites aren’t worth the nastiness).   I’ll get the blood test done this week.  Onward !

UPDATE:  The Propranolol LA 120mg (generic for many, many years) is actually $77 per MONTH out of pocket.  And I have to have it.  I tried the regular release and all I did was sleep, get up to take meds, and sleep some more.  My life is limited, but being awake is one of the perks I do look forward to.

What NOT To Say To Someone Who Is Disabled or Dealing With a Serious Illness

I think most people are trying to be helpful or supportive when they make comments to someone about their health and/or treatments, but there are some things that  those who have not experienced the situation should just stay quiet about.  Some things are just not helpful, and some are ‘enough’ to ruin a relationship.  These are some of my ‘just don’t say it’ things:

1.  “You look OK.”… to me, that means “there must not be anything wrong with her- she’s just a wimp and making a big deal out of nothing”.  You spend a day in my body, and get back to me.  Diabetes, seizures, neuropathy, chronic pain, migraines, degenerative joint and disc disease, and a multitude of other disorders have no outward symptoms that scream out their identity.  There is a fine line between “You look OK.” and “You look good”.  When “You look good” is said following a long fight with an illness or its treatments, and someone is ‘coming back’ to their ‘usual’ self, I never found that offensive.  It’s a totally different situation.  But “You look OK” = “buck up and get with the program, you sloth.”   Trust me.  I’ve tried the best I can, and managed to get 8 years more to work with the initial medications (once the right ones were figured out). Going on disability was NOT my idea.  My employer at the time told me they couldn’t have me around (go figure, I was passing out all the time).

2. “Your doctors sound like idiots.” (opinion usually based on the online ‘research’ that is mostly from sites that are trying to sell a product– and have an 800 number at the bottom of the page, and/or ‘proven’ by someone with a plumbing or agriculture background).   Many times, this is ‘pushing’ some sort of Eastern or alternative medicine instead of the treatments that have been researched and gone through trials, with proven success rates that are better than not having that particular medication or treatment for that specific problem.  I have no issue with alternative medications, and use homeopathic headache medication as well as herbs and supplements for headache prevention/ minimization … but I have run those past my doctors before taking them. I also use Western medications for the same problem.  While I was on chemo, I took NOTHING that my oncologist didn’t approve.  There were very specific things I couldn’t have because of the type of chemo I was on.  There was  a massage/aromatherapy person who came by every day I was in the hospital, so some alternative things were offered.  I’ve been offered various products/ideas to replace medications by well-meaning friends.  Here’s the thing- it’s my body.  I trust who I trust, and it’s not someone online I’ve never met.  It’s not someone who has never seen me or my test results.  It’s not someone who has no interest in me if I don’t buy their products. When I have decided to switch doctors, it was MY decision based on how I felt about the care I was getting.  And, I never trust anybody who has credit card acceptance comments and images at the bottom of their ‘professional’ page.

I must admit, I have been annoyed by doctors I’ve heard about and gone off the rails with my responses- but once discussing the situation with the person- and I more fully understood what was going on, all was well- and bottom line, I respected their gut feeling about what was going on.  🙂 But, nobody needs to hear that their doctors are idiots… they’re depending on those doctors to be sure they’re still going to have a normal lifespan.

3.  “You should/shouldn’t eat X, Y, or Z.”  During chemo, it could have been lethal to eat fresh fruits and vegetables that someone else didn’t peel, because of the microbes that can still be on them even after washing. Because of the immune system ‘attacks’ from chemo (and in the case of the leukemia I had, the cancer itself long before the chemo kicked in), there are times when an otherwise harmless ‘bug’ could cause a fatal infection. Produce is covered in ‘normal’ bacteria, fungi, spores, and viruses- a normal immune system handles them with no problem (they can’t all be washed off).   And when my absolute neutrophil count (ANC) was below a specific number, I couldn’t have any fresh unpeeled produce around (and wasn’t given permission to peel them myself even with a mask and gloves– the risk was just too great).  I’d already had a couple of nasty infections from otherwise puny things that caused delays in chemo and/or the need for extremely potent IV antibiotics for 5 straight weeks, or antivirals for 3 weeks (BAD ear/neck infection,  and shingles during the first year).  Normally, fresh produce is felt to help prevent certain cancers… but with chemo and the effects on the immune system, it is critical to not violate the food rules !  It’s all temporary.  Better to go with what is likely not to cause more problems !  When it’s not potentially lethal, then of course- fresh foods are the way to go 🙂  There was also a very strict ‘don’t eat’ on things with a lot of Vitamin A, since one of my primary chemo medications (ATRA) was essentially a form of Vitamin A in mega form.  Vitamin A is fat soluble, and can become toxic in the body since it builds up (so can E, D, and K).   I had very specific instructions about not eating Vitamin A ‘heavy’ foods (carrots were a particular ‘loss’).

4. “Oh, disability must be just like an early retirement!”  Seriously?  People think this is some sort of ‘perk’ ?  My life was taken from me in terms of everything I knew to be my normal life.  I still grieve the loss of being a  working RN.  I’m having to make 2/3 of my income ‘work’.  I can’t leave home without medical equipment.  I have 32 pills to take on a ‘good day’ when I don’t have to take anything for an ‘as needed’ situation.  I’ve had to deal with Medicaid (a joke- they don’t help much at all, and it’s humiliating to need it), Medicare (very expensive to be on), the Part D prescription plan (which limits my access to the best insulins due to cost), the legal system, with bankruptcy prior to Medicare (extremely shameful to have to do that), etc.  It’s been hell.  Yes, I have many things to be thankful for- but this is no picnic.  I’d much rather be doing 40 hours a week and being useful. Now, it hurts to make a sandwich or empty the dishwasher.

5.  “Well, when you finally feel like it, we can ______.”  Don’t hold your breath, sister !   “Chronic” and “disability” don’t mean this will run its course, and I’ll be fine.  How I wish !   “Degenerative” means I’m going to decline.  I’m the one who should be having more trouble accepting that- why is it that others just can’t grasp the concept that some things can’t be fixed?   Don’t make it sound like it’s somehow up to me for this to all go away.  Don’t make it sound like I’m just not trying hard enough. Don’t make it feel like this is my CHOICE !  When someone says ‘finally’ it implies that there’s something voluntary about all of this.  If there were, I’d be in a way different place, working, and living a ‘normal’ life.

I’m doing the best I can.  If I were physically able to do more than I can, I’d be doing it.  I feel fortunate to be able to take out the trash and not need 2 hours to recover.  I’m always glad when I get home from the grocery store, and didn’t have to stop unloading the car because I felt like I was going to pass out.   I’m adjusting the best way I know how, which is to try and be thankful for what I have left that I enjoy, and am glad that no matter what happens to me, I still have God.  Some people don’t understand that.  For me, He’s a lifeline. ❤