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Category Archives: medical history

I need a minute

I had my hair colored yesterday (more in another blog), which took about two hours. This morning I had to get up early to go to PT (her first appointment of the day) so that I could get to my neurology appointment on time.

This was my second PT appointment, the first with full treatment since initial appointments include lots of time for evaluation and pre-treatment measurements. I’d been doing the stretching exercises she assigned me since Friday, so I have been doing some work. Today, though, she did some more stretching…and it hurt. The physical therapist is a very nice, very low-key woman, who spends most of the appointments so far reassuring me that I will make progress and I will feel better. I’ve told her that I am VERY familiar with PT, as I’ve been multiple times over the years. Even so, she seems intent on keeping up with the reassurances…I guess she thinks she is being encouraging, I’m not sure. Anyway, the appointment was painful and I left feeling sore and tired.

When I got home, Hub told me he couldn’t go with me to the neurologist because he had a big meeting come up at work. My father offered to go, but I really didn’t want to have to deal with my dad’s pushiness, especially with a new-to-me doctor. So I said I’d be okay, and when the time came I headed off to the doctor’s office.

The doctor was on time, which was shocking to me, and his space in the suite was a combo office and exam room. It was a little odd, I’ve never seen anything like that. Normally you are in an exam room or you meet with the doctor in a separate office space. We sat down and he asked me what was happening. I gave him my history as best I could–including the recent bloodwork done that had all come back normal–and told him the issues I was having recently. He asked me a ton of questions, most of which I gave negatory answers to…it almost looked like he was reading from a list on his laptop! He then went through the litany of physical neuro tests–most of which I’ve been through before. When that was done, we sat back down at his desk and he stared at his laptop for a minute. Then he started saying that I didn’t fit in this category (ALS) or that category (Myasthenia gravis) or even that category (Guillain-Barré)…and each time he described WHY I didn’t fit. Having been alone, I tried to remember every reason why I didn’t match those categories, but I was busy thinking “oh, but I do have trouble swallowing!” (but I don’t REALLY) and “oh, my upper body IS weak” (but not REALLY) and “oh, I do have tingling!” (but probably that’s when I overdo or my limb falls asleep). It’s like he was giving symptoms (more than I just described) and I was latching onto them, worrying that maybe I really did have those symptoms and they were just on the mild side and what if I had missed the symptoms??

It was hard. I don’t remember which disease was ruled out by which missing symptom(s). I know he didn’t specifically rule out MS (multiple sclerosis) and I don’t know why.  I was afraid to ask. The final result was the he wanted to start with bloodwork for some muscle thing, and that he wanted to do an EMG (electromyogram). He said he had time to do it later that afternoon or tomorrow because of cancellations, but I didn’t want to do something unknown when I had the wedding this weekend. I said I wasn’t available and at that point the best they could do was schedule for the end of August. So I put it on my calendar and left the office.

I drove home, feeling weak and tired…and so disappointed, even though I really had no hopes for the appointment. I guess some part of me thought something would come of it, but it had to be pretty far buried in my subconscious. When I got home, Hub was still on the phone for his meeting, so he slipped over to greet me briefly. I said I was going upstairs to change my clothes, then decided I wanted to lie down for a while. I called my father to update him, had to listen to him talk about the time HE had some sort of muscle electricity test thingy twenty-plus years ago for a possible pinched nerve, then I stripped and got into bed. I barely settled in when Hub came in to check on me…he wanted to know if something happened that I hadn’t told him.

I cried. I don’t want to be sick again…or more than I already am. I’m tired of being sick. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of not knowing. I’m tired of having to change my life because I’m sick again, or more. I’m tired of having to grieve for the life I had, or the one I’ll never have, because I’m sick again, or more.

Hub hugged me, and even though I knew he wanted to hover and smother because that’s his M.O., he left me to rest. I just wanted a minute to mourn, you know? I needed a minute to come to terms with the disappointment, with the fatigue of it all. No one ever knows what is wrong with me. I’m always a syndrome…a catch-all that I’m dumped in because I don’t match any known disease or medical terminology.  I’m tired. So fucking tired.

I laid in bed for several hours–though I got up briefly to eat some soup because I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything prior to that–and just did nothing. I just couldn’t get up the energy to participate in life. My body and my soul didn’t want to body or soul.

I got up and had dinner later, and I talked with Hub like I was “normal”, but inside I’m hurting and I’m disappointed and I’m lost. Again. And writing these things has me crying again…

 

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Post colonoscopy refresh

Well, here I am, back on my recliner trying to recover from the last two days. The last five days?

The prep, while not as bad as it was for my surgeries, still sucked. I would definitely use this prep again in the future because it was less liquid to drink, and most of the liquid required was plain water. Also, it was split into two days, so that made things easier all around.

The colonoscopy, as everyone said, was the easiest part of the whole thing. The anxiety before (and now some after), is harder. The prep is harder. The half hour before going in is harder. Screw that, the hour before going in is harder. I still feel woozy-ish from some of the drugs, but I also think some of that is the lack of nutrition I’ve had over the last five days. I’m trying to go slowly back into food, both last night and today, so my intake is still smaller than normal. So I’m tired, I’m woozy-ish, and I’m anxious a bit.

Why anxious?

Well, let’s talk about the second worst part of yesterday (the prep was pretty bad for TMI reasons)… We get to the procedure center a few minutes early and checked in. They took me back only a few minute later than I had expected but not bad, really. I go to the bathroom one last time and they take me into a curtained cube area. There are seriously like 12 or 14 beds in this whole pre- and post-procedure area. It started feeling a lot like a cattle call. Get ’em in and get ’em out. So I get into my designated cube area and I undress and pull on my lovely gown, open in the back of course. I tuck my bagged clothes under the gurney as instructed and I get onto the gurney. I’m there about ten seconds and I get an excruciating abdominal muscle spasm. I start gasping and I hear the nurse on the other side of the curtain “you okay, hon?” So I say “uh” and she comes in and I tell her what’s happening. She seems sympathetic but not entirely interested. Says it’s probably from the prep and could she please have my arm to get my blood pressure? I tell her my BP is going to be through the roof because I’m in terrible pain and she just takes my arm and hooks me up. Shortly after taking my BP (which was high, of course), I get another spasm, and then another, and then another. It’s so painful and I want to cry and go home and I want Hub but the nurse says I’m up next and there’s no time for Hub to come back. I’m clutching my stomach and there’s a huge hard baseball sized lump under my skin and she’s asking for my OTHER arm so she can get the IV in. She promises to tell the doctor about the spasm but doesn’t seem distressed. Finally, the spasm gives up and the IV is in and the anesthesiologist comes in to talk to me. Then the doctor comes in and I tell him about something else and then alert him to the spasm. “Probably from the prep” he tells me.

If it’s the prep, then why have I had them before? If it’s not the prep, was it dehydration? I don’t know, honestly, and I doubt I’ll ever know WTF they’re from. What I know is, they hurt like a motherfucker and having four in a row was so painful that I was actually GLAD to be getting anesthesia. (Maybe it was dehydration and being slumped over on the toilet for two days. Hmm…)

Even after the colonoscopy, last night, and today, my stomach is so sore from the spasm. Cramp? Maybe it’s a cramp. Stomach charlie horse? I have no idea. But moving at all is uncomfortable because that muscle is apparently involved in every-damn-thing I do. And of course the fear that it’s going to happen again, because it actually takes my breath away it’s so painful and so out-of-the-blue.

Meanwhile, post-colonoscopy, I’m told I was very nice to the nurses and kept thanking people. Literally, as they were putting anesthesia into my IV before the procedure I blurted out to the two nurses “thanks for taking care of me!” and then I was out. So when Hub assured me that I was nice to everyone even before I was really conscious afterward, I said, “Well my mother would be proud of me.” My stomach was really inflated with air from the test, so I was really uncomfortable. They made me go to the bathroom and drink, then Hub helped me get dressed and we left. Less than two hours from when they took me back to when we got out to the car. When we got home, I walked around the main floor of my house and passed air for half an hour. I know that I kept asking Hub questions about what the nurses and doctor said after I “woke up”, but I couldn’t seem to retain the answers at the time. Every time I lapped around near Hub, I would ask him another question that I KNEW I had already asked, but the answers just kept eluding me. After being on my feet for thirty  minutes straight, I was done, so I went upstairs and changed and got into bed with a small container of yogurt to get some probiotics into my system. I had some apple juice, a small omelet and some jello for dinner. After a couple of hours the air seemed to have left my system, so my intestines felt better but my abdomen still hurt from the muscle thing. I was still kind of woozy and out of it, but I managed for the evening.

I didn’t sleep great, but that’s not news. This morning I didn’t want to get out bed, but I did it because I knew I needed to be moving around. And I knew I needed to get eating again, and drinking.

The doctor said they found one small polyp, which they removed and will send for pathology (2 week wait for that). They also found internal hemorrhoids, which I can have treated at a later date if I decide to do so. “A few” external hemorrhoids, too. Otherwise, I’m told there was nothing else of note, and my prep was “good”. Once they get the pathology back, then I’ll hear if I have to go back for my next colonoscopy in five years or in ten. I’m assuming it’s not cancerous, but I don’t know if I’m being naive about that or not. Either way, won’t know for sure until the report comes back.

Onward to my next job for this week…help my dad go through his mortgage refinance on Thursday. It’s supposed to be hella cold, single digits…yay.

 

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Next up in our schedule

The ceremony yesterday went as I expected for the most part. Hub and I–and one of my brothers–stood right with my dad, in case he had an issue during the service. He really shook like a leaf the whole time, so I was grateful that Hub was there right behind me and Dad in case Dad fell or fainted or whatever. Our Rabbi was the only one who spoke, and he said very nice things about Mom…he’s known us for more than 45 years, and he was especially close with my parents for the last twenty or so since my mother served on his temple’s board for many years in several different capacities. In addition to her attending services weekly after my grandfather died. He also read a poem, which I think is kind of a standard poem for funerals, even though this technically wasn’t a funeral.

After the short service was over, I stood at the headstone for a few minutes. While I was there, my brother (the same as above) came back over and sat in one of the chairs that the cemetery provided us. I went over and sat with him (after asking if he wanted to be alone, which he said no), and after a few minutes my father came back, as did my other two brothers and my SIL. We kind of sat there quietly for a few minutes…some of us crying and some of us not.

After about another five minutes, we left Dad at the headstone for a moment and the rest of us moved a distance away. When he joined us, we left and went home to eat lunch with everyone.

The lunch was fine at Dad’s house. We mostly did a buffet style, so it was easy enough to just put stuff out and then congregate at the extended table in the dining room. When everyone but my siblings and SIL left, we hung out for a while until my father ended up falling asleep in his recliner. Then Hub and I went home for the rest of the afternoon. We went back last night to say good-bye to my out-of-town brother and SIL, as they were flying home early this morning.

I don’t feel any differently about my loss. The Rabbi kept telling me that with the passing of this ceremony, maybe my father would find some closure and his depression would lift and he’d be doing better. I don’t think that’s going to be the case for Dad. Mostly because I don’t see Mom’s passing any differently on the other side of the ceremony. It doesn’t change the day-to-day living without her. Not for me, anyway.

Now that we have passed that…milestone?…, I have to move on to things that are waiting for me. One of which is a colonoscopy. Next Monday. I was having some mild stomach issues–that mostly resolved after my PCP appointment–that my primary sent me onward to a gastro doctor. The gastro doctor talked to me about my cancer history, which puts me at higher risk for both breast and colon cancer (which I knew, which was why I went to my PCP right away), and he suggested a colonoscopy. He said it was better safe then sorry, and indicated that if all was well and I didn’t have issues, I could go ten years until my next one. Normally you get a colonoscopy starting at 50, but again because of my history, he wanted to go ahead and do it now. It’s probably nothing major going on, but I don’t want to let anything go, so I’m getting the test.

Sadly, the part that worries me the most is the prep. I hated the surgery prep that I had to do twice in three months for my hysterectomy and then oopharectomy last year. The gastro doctor prescribed a different type of prep–so no gatorade, thankfully–but surgery prep is still really uncomfortable and tiring and anxiety-inducing. The procedure itself will include propofol, so I shouldn’t remember anything. I had that with my other surgeries and they were right, I don’t remember shit after they said “count backwards from 10” and the last number I remember was 9.

I’m also worried about the recovery in the days following. With my physical issues and pain issues, I am sure I’ll be uncomfortable after. I only hope I’ll be recovered in time to go to my in-laws for the holidays.

Coming up after that are appointments for my 18-month follow-up with my oncologist, Le Moo’s yearly “senior” vet visit (and buying lots of dog pills for both dogs), and then my mammo. I also have to get in to get my eyes checked and see the dentist, but I’m saving those for after my mammo.

Life keeps going on…

 

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Don’t pigeon-hole me

I had a very very bad night last night. Even before I was ready to go to sleep, I was feeling uncomfortable. My hands and arms were tingling, or feeling like they were going to be tingling, and no amount of moving them or rubbing them or moving around made it better. Hub went off to sleep, with an early morning alarm to go to an on-site meeting that required a two hour commute (each way). I sat up for a while because my right elbow started hurting. Then my left inner arm starting hurting. The tingling was still going on in both hands. I was so unhappy. I couldn’t lie down and get comfortable, so I kept sitting up in the dark (I had turned the TV off by about midnight in the hopes that I could go to sleep). I was rubbing my hands and bending my elbow repeatedly.

And I did the worst thing I could do. I thought I remembered that pain in your elbow was a symptom of a heart attack, so I looked it up. And it was…and I knew immediately I’d made a mistake by confirming that, and I turned my phone off immediately. I tried again to go to sleep but now both arms were hurting, the elbow, all the tingling, and my body was getting weary from sitting up for so long. I hadn’t slept a wink.

At one-thirty a.m., I had a panic attack in my pitch black bedroom, with my husband snoring beside me. This panic attack in particular consisted of violent trembling of all my limbs. I knew what it was and I let it come because I had hoped it would tire me out and let me give in to sleep. Instead, all the symptoms I’d had before the attack were still there…and I still couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep. So I sat up for another hour or so and ended up with a second panic attack. Same violent trembling and fear, with all my pain symptoms still hanging on afterward.

So I woke Hub up and told him I needed to call an ambulance, because I was feeling really poorly, I felt short of breath at that point, and all my other symptoms remained. While he got dressed and went to the bathroom, I pulled on some clothes and tried to get downstairs to wait for him. He called 911, requested the ambulance, then called my father so he could take care of our dogs. It was about three thirty in the morning.

I wish I could say the EMTs were kind and compassionate when they arrived, but they weren’t. The lead guy started asking me what was going on, and I told him. He immediately asked me if I had any history of anxiety…which I said I did, but that it was well-controlled most of the time. And that my symptoms had all come about prior to any feelings of anxiety. He told me to follow him to the ambulance–Hub helped me out through the garage while the EMT just walked off–and told me to get in through the side door (again, Hub helped me up the steep steps). Inside the ambulance, the EMT hooked me up to the blood pressure cuff and oxygen finger thingy, then started asking me questions again. He kept telling me that my tingling and pain could be from anxiety, and I kept telling him the tingling and pain were PRIOR to me feeling anxiety. My vitals were pretty high, so he directed me to work on my labored breathing while he filled out some chart and told me he and his partner didn’t usually work our local area. As my vitals came down a little, he announced that maybe I wanted to just go back in the house and let them go back to the station. “We’re not in the habit of kidnapping people and taking them to the hospital if they don’t want to go…”

I just stared at him. I was giving him information on “bilateral” arm pain, shortness of breath, tingling in both arms and hands…and he was telling me to go back to my house. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was very familiar with my anxiety and that this wasn’t anxiety…and that I wanted to go to the ER to find out what was going on. He kind of sighed and said, “okay, but you need to keep working on your breathing and anxiety so once the doctor sees you, they can evaluate you without the anxiety in the way.” Then during the ride to the ER, he asked me, “how many times have you done this? gone to the ER in the ambulance?” I said, “this is the first time.” All he said was, “Oh.”

WTF.

At the ER triage, he told the nurse FIRST that I had a history of anxiety. During his recitation of my history and presenting pain, he told her at least two more times that I had a “previous history of anxiety”. They took me to a room and told me to scoot from their gurney to the hospital room bed, then said, “the nurse will see you at some point.” and they left.

Hub FINALLY found me a few minutes later, without any assistance from any of the nurses or the EMTs, who were all standing around chatting at the nurses’ desk. We sat in the room and waited for about half an hour (or 45 minutes?) before the nurse and PA came in to see me at the same time. The PA started asking me questions about how I was feeling, then looked at the computer and said, “You have anxiety issues?” I said yes, but that this was not the anxiety, that I have been managing my anxiety extremely well for quite some time–the PA looked at Hub as if she was expecting him to argue with me, but he confirmed what I was saying. So the PA said, “why don’t you let us get you started on some fluids and some anxiety medication?” I said, “no, I don’t take medication for my anxiety. I manage it without medication.” The PA looked dumbfounded, and wanted to know what she was supposed to do. I told her that I was afraid the pain was symptomatic of a heart attack, and I wanted her to check to see if that’s what was going on…or if it was something else and WHAT the something else might be. The PA asked again about giving me anxiety meds, or something for the pain in my arms. I said I didn’t want pain meds (which she told me would be anxiety medication anyway), that I had anxiety medication at home but that I didn’t take it. Again, I got a look from the PA that said she was sure I had lost my mind.

At this point, the nurse stepped in and said, “oh, I do the same thing. I carry my klonipin with me all the time, but I haven’t used it in years.” The PA looked both confused and annoyed at that point.

The PA said, “I can do a whole work-up, but your history says you had an EKG in June with a stress test and that’s the GOLD STANDARD. So if it was clean, you really don’t need to do anything here.”

I told her I wanted to know what was going on, what the pain was and why was I feeling really poorly. So she said she’d order the EKG, bloodwork, heart enzymes, and a chest and neck xray to see if there was anything going on there. She left the room, and seriously? That was the last time I saw her. We were there for another two and a half hours and she never came back into the room. Neither did a doctor. The nurse took care of us, did the EKG and told Hub about thirty minutes later that an attending said it was normal. She did the blood draw and then told us about an hour later that the results were all clean. She took me to get the xray (because their orderly was MIA) and she was the one who came back to say the xray was fine and I could go home. In the time we were there, she was in and out of our room a lot, talking with us about her history of anxiety, and how people who had never dealt with it didn’t understand. That she knew what I was saying, and how I was feeling about the meds, and how she understood that I was identifying pain not associated with my anxiety.

I felt so demoralized by the EMTs, the PA, and the other staff there (not including the good nurse). I am very open and honest about my anxiety. I feel it’s important for medical personnel to know my history in full, which includes my anxiety. I’m so disappointed that doing so in this instance gave the EMTs and the PA the reasoning (in their minds) to shove me aside, to not take me seriously, and to abandon my care.

We were released from the hospital and got home around six forty-five in the morning. Hub had to bow out of his meetings, he retrieved the dogs from my father’s house, and we both went back to bed. I slept for about two hours, then dozed fitfully for a little while after that. When I woke up and went downstairs to have some lunch, I found that I still had all the same symptoms as the night before. The tingling comes and goes–and is in my legs and feet and sometimes in my face–my back is hurting, I’ve had a headache on and off. I don’t know what’s going on.

Hub reminded me today that fall is usually when I get a pretty bad flare of my myofascial pain syndrome. So is that what this is? The pain is in different places and the tingling is new. Of course I know that my MPS symptoms have changed over the 15 years I’ve had it, but this all feels different. I don’t know why I feel that way, but I do.

Even so, I have no idea what to do now except push through and try to keep my anxiety in check. I am scheduled to go in to see my massage therapist tomorrow to try to get some trigger point work in, with the hopes that it will relieve some of the pain if it is in fact related to my MPS.

The panic attacks don’t feel like a huge setback (a small one, yes), mostly because I knew what was going on and I actually welcomed them with the hopes that just going through it would give me relief on the other side. Almost like if I gave it permission to happen, then I was okay with it happening.

Now…I’m tired. I hope I will sleep. Hub is working from home tomorrow for most of the day, I have the massage therapist, then I’ll be alone for a bit while Hub is visiting a client. Well, the dogs will be with  me and my father is nearby, but I’ll have to take care of the dogs and feed them and stuff on my own. Hopefully I’ll feel up to it.

 

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CT Scan follow-up

I had my CT Scan for my one year post-cancer follow up about two weeks ago. I had my appointment with my gyn onc a week ago. It feels like longer.

I had a chest, abdomen and pelvis scan, adding in the chest because of a cough I’ve had. I assume(d) the cough is from my allergies, but I figured as long as I was going in I might as well just be sure. I was also supposed to get checked for kidney issues–as per my urologist–but it didn’t quite work out the way I expected.

I went in with my forms and told them I was getting checked for kidney stones in addition to my cancer check. This was post-barium-drinking. The woman at the front desk frowned at me and said that the barium screws up their ability to see kidney stones most of the time, so she shoved the prescription back at me. I asked her to go ahead and send the films to the urologist anyway. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this issue? But the urologist knew my gyn onc wanted with and without contrast, so she had to know it wouldn’t be the best view. Besides which, I think she knew I didn’t have stones, but this was a CYA kind of thing. Btw, I never heard back from her after the scan. Joy.

If you saw my ct scan post (linked above), you may have seen my comments on the post. I survived the scan (obviously) with residual pain and feelings of BLECH. I actually got my written report the day after the scan, but without commentary from my doctor. Just the report showed up. It was not remarkable, with the exception of some finding of soft tissue in the center of my chest area, which was declared as possibly “thymic rebound”. WTF is that? I did a NO-NO and looked it up, which actually resulted in very little information. So I messaged my gyn onc, who basically told me to take it up with my primary, as it was outside his expertise. He otherwise called my CT Scan as NED. I am a bit distressed that this scan didn’t mention views of my lymph nodes like the first one did after diagnosis, but I’m hoping that means they were not remarkable (and not that they didn’t bother looking…)

I contacted my primary doctor’s office and she’s out of the country until the end of July. That’s more than 3 weeks away, so I asked for someone else to review the report (because I don’t think they actually get to see the images). The interim doctor said it didn’t look like anything concerning, but I should see my primary upon her return. WTF.

So while I was sitting around waiting for THAT to happen, a relative suggested I get a second opinion on my ct scan images. I didn’t even realize that was possible, but back to Google I went. Turns out there are places online that will allow you to send them your images and have another trained and licensed radiologist read them. I had to pay on my own, but I wanted to get it done ASAP, so I forked over the cash (it wasn’t actually that bad, in the grand scheme of things). After some issues with uploading and getting them the clinical history they needed, they read my images. I got a written report about five days later (including a weekend).

Good news, the soft tissue was “without clinical concern” and was “minimal residual thymus”. The thymus is apparently an organ that is in use only before your immune system is developed, then it shrinks away to almost nothing. Sometimes when you go through chemo, radiation, surgery, or some other major issue, the thymus regrows to help your immune system, then shrinks away again. Since I’ve not had a chest ct before, I guess there was nothing to compare it to. Anyway, that was all good.

You see it coming, though, don’t you?

There is some asymmetric nodular tissue in the right breast axillary tail region compared to the left which is nonspecific.

Unh. I had my mammogram in February, with no notation of issues. I know there was something in my first mammo that they immediately followed up with using ultra-sound. That was then noted in my charts, but it was supposed to be benign. The wording is a bit different on this second opinion report (of course it IS a CT versus a mammo, so…). So I figured it was the same issue as before, but sent the second opinion to my gyn onc anyway, asking if I needed to follow-up somehow. After no response for several days, I sent another message today asking for a response.

The response was, “this isn’t my area of expertise, but here are three breast surgeons we regularly refer to”.

Cue uprising of anxiety and distress. Cue Googling the phrases in the ct report. Cue seeking some place of numbness.

Cancers based in estrogen “travel in packs” said my gyn onc upon my original diagnosis over a year ago. Breast cancer is one of those in the pack. The only history of breast cancer I know about in my family is pretty limited…supposedly my paternal grandmother had it, around 50-years-old, but my dad doesn’t remember details. My mother thought my grandmother had a mastectomy, but we have no way of confirming that.

So I messaged my previous gyno, who is in my area (my gyn onc and his suggested breast surgeons are all at least an hour away) to see if they can recommend someone I can see here locally. It’s only been about an hour since I sent that message, so I haven’t heard back. They might not be interested in responding because I haven’t been back to them since pre-surgery.

I am not having a panic attack. I am anxious and concerned. I am unhappy. I am fearful. And I am angry.

I don’t quite know what to do with myself at the moment. I had hoped writing about it would help. So far, it has not.

 

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Poppin’ pills

I don’t mean to be glib, please don’t take it that way. I just couldn’t think of another title for this post.

I have to take some pills. I’m extremely sensitive to pills. I hate taking pills. I take next to nothing at this point in my life because of my sensitivities. I take almost nothing OTC and nothing prescribed (no one has requested me to take rx meds these days for anything medical). I’ve taken anti-biotics when necessary, and I only take the z-pack because I know the repercussions of that…and even then I make Hub sit (and stay for about an hour) with me when I take the first pill. Taking medication gives me very high anxiety. I still have no idea how I forced myself into taking the digestive enzymes and probiotic pills I take daily.

So as per a previous post, I’ve been to a new gynecologist. She requested blood work–which I gave on Monday afternoon and the results were back already on Tuesday morning, WTF?–and all came back normal. I’m waiting on the good ole pap smear, but what the CRNP really wants is for me to get an ultrasound (outy and inny, for those of you in the know) to check my lady innards. I know she’s going to find fibroids, that isn’t new. But the other thing she wants to check on is the lining of my uterus. Previous tests have shown that to be “thick” — which shouldn’t be terribly surprising, considering my crazy cycle. This is the first time, though, that the doctor (or CRNP) has wanted to force a cycle before putting me through the tests. In fact, two of the previous times I’ve had the test, the doctor has pulled me directly from the exam appointment and right into the ultrasound test. So anyway, the issue that remains is that I gotta take progesterone to force a period. I’ve taken P before–over 20 years ago?? Maybe-ish…and I actually don’t recall it working. I don’t recall much about it, actually. That was back before I really struggled so much with anxiety. Now, I struggle with anxiety, and I struggle a ton with health anxiety. And I am entirely paranoid about pills. I have to be on these pills for 10 days. Generally, once I get over the first day (or two), I’m okay. That first day is a kicker.

I’m trying not to think about it between now and when I start taking them (probably Thursday evening). We were waiting a little bit to see if I started a cycle on my own, based on my exam (sorry, TMI) and some physical symptoms I’ve been having. But so far, no luck. And at this point, I’m pretty sure I’ll be needing the pills. Prior years, I suspect I would have just ignored the pills and not followed up with the doctor. Now, after my mother’s issues…I’m going to push myself to deal with the pills. I wish I had an appointment with T this week, but no such luck. I’ll have to work through this with the knowledge I have.

Anyone do progesterone pills? Want to give me any words of wisdom? I had asked the CRNP, and all she said was it’ll make me grumpy. WTF, that’s not what I was trying to find out. I got the prescription and all the fantastic paperwork that comes with it…and I skimmed it, but I’m afraid to read it. Anyone?

 

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Spread ’em

Seriously, I spent time thinking about what to title this blog. And I spent even more time trying to decide how much ERCK I could get specific about. So I went “haha” with the title and am going to be polite in the blog.

I have my appointment with the new gynecologist tomorrow (this post will be scheduled, so I will likely be completely done with the appointment by the time it publishes). I’m not looking forward to it. I’ve had crappy experiences with gynecologists in the past. Fortunately, not crappy like most women have to deal with…but I’ve gone through multiple doctors as we moved houses and my cycle went cray-cray. I’ve been through many sides of the cycle experience, and I’ve been on and off pills to try to get things regulated. At some point, I just gave up and pretty much went with the flow. No pun intended. I have been told my weight has screwed up my cycle, but after losing a lot of weight it changed nothing. I was told I have fibroids (years ago) that shouldn’t bother me. Then I was told I have a thick uterine lining. Then I was told I had fibroids that were big (without symptoms) and that I should have a hysterectomy immediately. That doctor (who always acted so arrogant) freaked me out, and I ended up running off to a very highly regarded oncologist, who told me it was entirely appropriate to “wait and see”, especially since I wasn’t having symptoms (or problems). That was over two years ago. And since then, I’ve gone through the uterine cancer with my mother. I have no idea if there is a heredity component to uterine cancer (I’ve not googled it AT ALL), but when I was talking to T about it, she asked if I knew there was, what would I do? And I said I would pay much better attention to my gynecological health. So she told  me that I should consider following that path. So I’m trying…

I have the three lab reports from my three internal ultrasounds (aren’t THOSE just party-time fun?) so I can show it to the nurse practitioner I’m seeing tomorrow. (I would have had to wait another month see the doctor, and T told me the NP was actually much nicer.) I would assume she’s going to do an internal exam, probably a breast exam, and then we’ll jabber about my cycle issues and the fibroids. She’ll probably give me a referral for a mammogram (I’m past THAT AGE), and maybe I’ll end up with another internal ultrasound. I’ve put off worrying about this appointment until today. I’ve been trying to distract myself all day, and until the last couple of hours, it has worked. Now I’m thinking about it…and worrying over what’s going to come of it.

I have absolutely no need for my female organs. I’m not planning to have kids. I’m not attached to them emotionally. I’d probably be happier without them because they do cause me aggravation just thinking about the issues involved. I am also terrified of having surgery, with all that it entails. I do not have experience personally with surgery. I’ve been under anesthesia for a endoscopy…”twilight” they told me. I did not enjoy it. I woke up as they were pulling the tube from my throat and it was frightening and uncomfortable. Going “under” was also frightening and uncomfortable (although I had an awesome nurse who talked to me for as long as I could remember while I was going under). Clearly I survived the ordeal, and I would guess I’d be okay after a hysterectomy. My mother did really well with hers. 90% of the women I know personally have had the surgery and they all made it through. I always feel like I’m “special” and that if there is going to be a problem, then I’m going to have it. It seems to be a pattern for me. T tells me I’m not special in this manner. I disagree. We argue. It never resolves.

It’s time for me to close down for the night. Tomorrow is a new day. The appointment is late in the afternoon, so I get plenty of time to think about it again tomorrow. Cross your legs…errr, fingers for me.

eta:
It’s the day of and I’m nervous. Sitting around all day sucks. I slept really horribly last night, was up early, and my stomach has been unhappy all morning. Part of why I don’t like going to doctors is the anxiety of waiting for the appointment. The unknown…what’s going to happen, what’s going to be said, what’s going to be diagnosed. What bad thing is going to happen or be found. So anxious, ya’ll. Hub is at work so I’m here alone. He’s coming home to take me to the appointment, and I’m definitely going to tell the CRNP that I have an anxiety disorder. I hope she’ll be sympathetic and gentle in speaking with me. I really don’t like feeling this way. I want to distract myself, but it’s not really happening. Urg.

 

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