Wellbutrin Chronicles, Day 14: EPIC Anxiety Attack

Holy shit. I got worked up into a frothing rage at my mother's house, which left me with such anxiety and a hard knot like feeling in my chest, I thought I was having a heart attack.

Not sure how much of this was the Wellbutrin (I think A LOT--given my neurologist thinks it's very stimulating--his words, mind you) or how much of the attack was my mom and her effects on me. Either way, I decided after this episode to start weaning myself off the medication. Made me very hostile, agitated, headachey, dry mouthed, ragey, and did zero to help my depression.

Wellbutrin: Day 11

No real marked change or improvement, save for the over-riding desire to sit and cry at my desk at work? Yeah, that's no longer as pronounced. But I'm still fueled with righteous anger about how my job as it is as of this moment, is no longer the job for which I was hired nearly 12 years ago.

Dry mouth. No change in sleep patterns. Hands have a little bit of a tremble to them. Overall, I still have that horrid sense of dread or foreboding.

Wellbutrin: Day 6

Today will be the 6th dose. No real marked change in outlook or demeanor. The over-riding desire to cry at my desk at work has been blunted/stunted, but I'm still miserable here.

Bad News:

Been suffering from some, to put it politely, "gastric distress." At first I thought it might be the Wellbutrin as diarrhea is one of a myriad of side effects one might encounter while on the Rx. Then I thought it was the shrimp I ate the other day. This then became the prevailing theory, given my husband is somewhat affected too. And we are now well beyond 24 hours of "distress," and we both are still affected, despite taking Imodium, and now we think it's some sort of bug. And of course, I'm at work to spread my own brand of joy, and hopefully a few pathogens, too. Given how many times people have come to work sick, or brought their SICK KIDS to the office, I'd say I'm just doing my part in the petri dish that is our office.

We're giving it one more day w/Imodium, and if it doesn't turn things around in the next 24 hours, we're heading to the doc on Saturday. Which, of course, puts a total crimp in everything I needed/wanted/expected to accomplish on Saturday.

On an upnote, I'm hoping this distress will help me break this weight loss plateau I've been on for longer than I care to admit!

Good News: 

Got an email from my nephrologist with the results of my urinalysis and blood work from Tuesday. I guess 2013 will NOT be the year of "ZOMG BIOPSY ALL THE THINGS!" There has been some improvement in the proteinuria. He thinks the previous tests might have been "a variant," however, I've had proteinuria for too long, and the only thing that's been done different in the near 2 months since bumping the Quinipril to 80 mg 1x daily is the fact that I took it upon myself to bump my Alpha Lipoic Acid supplement from 250 mg to 500 mg daily. It's the only thing I can think of that's out of the ordinary. Regardless of its genesis, I'm glad for the news, for a multitude of reasons.

Dose Three

Poised to go down the hatch, shortly.

Waiting For The Other Shoe To Drop

Regarding that unrelenting headache for over two weeks and sleep interruptions/disturbance:

It might be premature to acknowledge, or perhaps risking jinxing myself, but got to bed IDK, maybe by midnight? Slept in my bed (versus sleeping on the chaise or recliner--the latter of which almost always ensures a shitty sleep experience, WTF LazyBoy... WTF indeed!). 

I forced myself to stay in bed, even though I was wired and mind racing. Even the slightest bit of light can be enough to keep me awake. I pulled the covers up over my head, and lay flat on my back.

Somehow I managed to get asleep and stay asleep, and so far, the headache is rating about a 0.5 on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst.

Weather shitty, roads icy, and the Slacker calls out sick, leaving me as the only secretary on staff today. I couldn't care less (I really DO care the absolute LEAST at the moment). Tomorrow I'll be the one who's out.

Wellbutrin Chronicles: Day Two

Day 2:  No marked difference. I feel strung out and weird.

Interestingly enough for the last two solid weeks, I have woken up with a horrendous headache, and nothing I do or ingest breaks it up.  Not a migraine. Been told my BP isn't high enough to bring on headaches. Not sinusy--breathing clear and free. Perhaps it's barometric or perhaps a cluster headache. All I know is it's grinding on me.  Tuesday I see the kidney doc, so I don't plan on going to another doctor in the meantime (not that I'd be able to score an appointment for Monday at this rate anyway). 

No relief in sight, yet plodding on and trying to not let it sideline me more than it already has.

Down The Hatch

1:30 First dose of Wellbutrin ingested.

Post-Therapy Session To Do List

1. Shop around for a psychiatrist for a consult re: the chemical shit going on (i.e. cortisol, dhea, etc), and determine if Wellbutrin is the optimal thing for my particular stripe of melancholy;
2. Actually start taking the Wellbutrin my internist prescribed;
3. Work up the motivation to explore the pilates studio in a neighboring town.

No Gin Involved

Gin hasn't touched my lips since roughly 1998 or 1999, when I made the distinct connection that it makes me feel NOTABLY melancholy.

And it's only today that, at age 45 that I start thinking about melancholy ITSELF. And yes. I am melancholy to one degree or another, every single day.

The more I read, the more I am convinced that my health issues are impacting my melancholy-ness. The issue at hand that I think that's driving it more and more as of late is the hypercortisolemia. And yet, I haven't taken the first dose of Wellbutrin because at least on an intellectual level, I see it as nothing more than a futile bandaid being adhered to treat a sucking chest wound (otherwise, ineffective).

Tomorrow: phone session with therapist, as scheduled.

Progress Stalled. For Now.

Though I’m biting the bullet and considering going back on antidepressants, as I just can’t fight this (depression) dragon by myself anymore. 

My internist prescribed Wellbutrin; however, I haven’t started taking it. Been second guessing myself about: 
1. Perhaps having a psychiatrist determine which Rx is best? Or 
2. Wondering about the interplay of the hypercortisolimia on my mood/emotional well being. 

Though the internist did say Wellbutrin was good, in so far it won’t cause weight gain or some of the other unpleasant side effects of other anti-depressants, I would like to see if there’s something ELSE out there that will actually help address the underlying cortisol issue. 

Reading up and found this article, and this blurb I found particularly interesting, and look forward to my endocrinologist's input on how to proceed: 

http://www.psychiatrictimes.com/articles/role-cortisol-and-depression-exploring-new-opportunities 

[…] Antidepressant drugs that have the ability to regulate GR expression and binding may, however, have greater therapeutic efficacy in patients who have hypercortisolemia. […] 

Also worth mentioning: My sleep is so screwed up, I haven't been to bed before 3 a.m. for the last SIX DAYS, and it's draining on me. Seriously draining on me. I'm just wondering how much longer I can go on like this before I finally just have a break down.

Well, At Least There's That...

While away on vacation, I got a call from my cardiologist with ACTUAL GOOD NEWS. Echocardiogram results were very good, and showed no blockages or any signs of left ventricular hypertrophy. Don't need to see him again for another year. Bravo!

Follow up w/nephrologist on 12/5. Here's hoping there's an Rx for a urinalysis in my inbox tomorrow when I hit the office. Otherwise, I feel my trip to NYC for this appt might be pretty much fruitless.

Return to the office tomorrow after a week away. I've had a horrible case of the Mondays, and hell, it's 3:41 a.m. and I haven't even gone to bed yet. I hesitate to go to bed, because I know the next moment I wake up, GAH. Make it stop. It'll be Monday.

Tired of feeling this way

Feel like crap. About to go on vacation tomorrow and all I want to do is curl up in the fetal position and die.

Wellbutrin Rx filled, so I'll start it first opportunity I can when I get back.

Well, well, well. Wellbutrin.

Cliffnotes: 
Internist wrote the Rx for it. I double checked with the nephrologist, who gave the go-ahead. Today I get the Rx filled, and I'll take it after vacation. No sense in fucking up a well deserved, much needed vacation by starting an antidepressant. So I'll fill the Rx and it'll be ready for me when I return.

The Unabridged Version:

Some folks might view both, my surgically altering myself with the gastric bypass, as well as my decision to now start taking antidepressants, as the easy way out. Life is short. I've tried my best. Time to leave it to the professionals to help me power through, achieve some goals, and make the most of whatever time I've got left here on Planet Earth. Good thing for me is, what other folks think, rarely changes or affects my reality. Opinions are like assholes, and all that rot.

No. I'm not morose. This is a reality for all of us. I just choose not to live in functional denial about my mortality. This is why when someone is cruel to me, or my efforts fall flat, or not getting some reasonable semblance of acknowledgement or appreciation at work truly does affect me negatively. Once my time is spent, I will never be able to recoup that time. Ever. Money? Yes. Time? No. Once it's spent, it's gone. 

Today I'm all out of sorts, as my human alarm clock (the husband) neglected to get me up in time for me to shower up and get out of the house on time, so I can have my phone in session with the therapist in the parking garage before work. Put the cart before the horse as a result, did the phone in session before I left the house, showered and shampooed up and got to the office an hour late as a result. So my day is out of synch entirely. 

Session was good. Not sure what else to say about the matter. Feeling very bleak at the moment, and feeling like the human embodiment of a Ticonderoga #2, sharpened down, used up, until there's nothing but a broken point nubbin' of a pencil w/a worn down eraser, too small to effectively hold and use anymore. Truly feel like I have nothing more to offer anyone or anything.

I don't feel sad. I feel depressed. Physically. Emotionally. And the last six months have been exceedingly taxing on me. One thing after another. One medical wild goose chase after another, all demanding time and attention, time and attention AND ENERGY which could have been more effectively used to address the TO DO items on my rainy day project list: follow up sleep study to get my CPAP levels tweaked; follow up w/a physiatrist, check out either/or/both Feldenkrais or a pilates class. You name it. Only so much time I can take off from work, and only so much energy and fortitude for me to power through to the next action item.

Here it is, December fast on our heels approaching. End of year. And I'm no better off than I was at the beginning of this year.

Wish Me Luck!

In 15 scant minutes, I'll be heading off to the internist to discuss an assortment of shit from possibly going on anti-anxiety meds to scheduling my colonoscopy, or seeing if he can do a CAT with contrast instead of the more invasive pooper-rooter.  

Stay tuned.

Dear Humanity: *You're Welcome*

After three days of wearing the same clothes I went to work in on Friday, and of course, not showering, today I forced myself to shower, shampoo, put fresh clothes on, and get out of the house.

This is my major accomplishment for the day.

I washed my ass. 

*You're welcome.*

Two more days until I see my internist and discuss the possibility of going back on antidepressants.

Mindset: Fixed vs Growth

I wonder if it truly is possible to change my mindset from a fixed to a growth oriented mindset. I wish there were a magic spell someone could cast on me to fix this. 

While trapped in the fixed mindset, it is very easy to fall back on the fact I've been negatively programmed my entire life, by someone else who was also negatively programmed their entire life.  Feels like a cop out, but it's true.

The trap I'm in right now is illustrated thusly:

FIXED: “If I don’t try, I can protect yourself and keep my dignity.”
GROWTH: “If I don’t try, I automatically fail. Where’s the dignity in that?”

And my logic loops back to if I do try and fail, I still fail. 

I like certitudes. Life is too short to waste precious moments on uncertainty. I like to succeed. I do it so rarely. I've never been taught these necessary coping mechanisms:

1. How to succeed.
2. How to handle or manage failure.

FLAILING is like Failing with an extra L tossed in there for LOSER.

I flail because I fail.
I fail because I flail.

All I've Got To Say Today

I'm depressed.

Carry on.

The Follow Up

Blip on the EKG was a "voltage weirdness." In the process of finding out if it's something in the heart or something with the EKG itself. I'm going with the theory it's the heart, as the 3 different EKGs I've had have all been done by different technicians at different locations. What are the odds that those three technicians put the leads on in the exact same spots? Unlikely.

Hurry up and wait. ECG to be done, and hopefully when I see the nephrologist next month, I can schedule a time w/the cardiologist the same day to discuss the ECG findings. 

Purpose of seeing the cardiologist was to find out what is causing the irregularity on the EKG, and to assess any damage my obesity and poorly managed hyptertension may have had on my heart (is it causing a thickening of the muscle?).

Interesting aside, as the cardiologist was manually examining my abdomen, as he pressed down on my right side (the exact spot where I've complained about the RLQ pain), I told him that is exactly where my pain has been.

BP was roughly 130/80, which is finally showing some improvement since doubling the ACE inhibitor.

Hurry up and wait.

Let me hit "publish," so I can then call the diagnostic center to schedule the ECG.

Cue up the Sad Trombone: Best Laid Plans (Again)

Currently procrastinating due to pain issues. Onset day. Just want to stay in fetal position. Made plans and gave my word to dad's sis that "I'd be there" at the juried craft show she's at this weekend. Starts at 10 (current time: 10:26) and runs until 4. I have time. It's only about a half hour's drive from here (roughly). But I'm in pain. 

Popped a Frova as I've got that pre-migraine tingle, and since I'll be driving (and now on that new, doubled dose of the bp Rx, I don't want to drive too far from home with a buzz). Interesting aside: The Frova while it helps my menses related migraines, it ends up jacking my bp up. There's always a trade off. Blargh. 

Hoping a hot shower will humanize me and I can tough it out a bit. Really tired of making plans, and then end up being an unreliable flake because pain sidelines me. 

Tinkerin' und Tinklein'

Reading up and trying to find the optimal daily dosage for alpha lipoic acid to help improve/diminish my proteinuria, and hopefully lower my BP in conjunction w/my ACE inhibitor.

Found this article re: The Impact of Lipoic Acid on Endothelial Function and Proteinuria in Quinapril-Treated Diabetic Patients With Stage I Hypertension: Results From the QUALITY Study, and it looks promising:

Conclusions: In diabetic patients with hypertension, QUI reduces blood pressure, proteinuria, and improves endothelial function. Moreover, this effect is strongly potentiated with a combination of QUI and ALA. These results may attenuate the progression of vascular pathophysiology seen in patients with a combination of diabetes and hypertension.

The cliffnotes:  The article listed that out of the 40 patients participating in a double blind study, the patients who were dosed with the combination of 40 mg of Quinipril and 600 mg of ALA daily w/a resulting protein decrease of 53.5% in a 24 hr collection.

For years, I've been taking 250 mg of ALA daily, and I'm considering bumping this to 500 a day.

Just now sent out an email to my nephrologist and my endocrinologist. Endo will no doubt give me a speedy reply, and I may have to wait until Tuesday's appointment with the nephrologist to get his response.

Hurry up and wait.

End note: Still waiting on reply from the kidney guy. Endo, with Swiss predictability and precision, emailed me within 24 hours with three words: GO FOR IT. 

No Time For Witty Titles Today.

Perspective is everything. One of my assorted syndromes right now: Proteinuric hypertension = pre-eclampsia (if I were pregnant), which by extension = ZOMG EMERGENCY SRS BIZNESS BABBY ON BOARD! Proteinuric hypertension for a non-pregnant person doesn't seem to muster up enough ZOMG! Yeah, gee. 

My head hurts like a mother effer and I worry daily if I'll have a stroke and won't be able to wipe my own butt, but screw me for not having a BABBY ON BOARD! Not feeling sorry for myself, merely illustrating the schism of care (as well as overall give-a-fuck) from folks medical or non. Power through I shall. Even if it means powering through on a second by second, molecule by molecule basis.

And while I do recognize that there is a physiological difference between a pregnant woman vs a non-pregnant woman, I can honestly say it sucks to have the identical syndrome, yet receive no real urgent type care for this.

Advice from friends is nice, especially from friends within the medical profession. However, when those same friends dispense the clinical information (which I already knew, thanks to Dr. Google) and those same people actually have at a minimum ONE CHILD (or more), and no acknowledgment of the grief (yes, grief, infertility, and for me now, the certainty I shall never have a child of my own flesh and blood EVER), it just perpetuates the divide, the herd thusly: "Us" vs "Them," meaning breeder vs non-breeder. 

I'm sure I'll eventually get to the point of accepting this. Eventually. And I suppose until I officially hit menopause, acceptance will be slow coming. So, it IS unintentionally callous, along the lines of someone saying to a grieving widow that the death of her husband is nothing compared to the loss of a child. Loss is loss. Grief is grief.  As I've said before, this is a loss, a grief, for which no one else knows the right thing to say, except, save for someone who's trod along this path themselves. 

And the medical nutshell version of this scenario is:
While I have the same syndrome that would be Dx'd as someone who is pregnant (proteinuric hypertension), as of this moment, it's idiopathic, no known cause, and we're rooting out possibilities which range from "nephrotic syndrome (which scares the piss out of me--literally and figuratively) to Cushings, to a pheochromocytoma, to who-knows-what-else. While I may not be pregnant, the notion of staring down the barrel of a shotgun "loaded for bear" with the possibility of eventual kidney failure and DIALYSIS, scares the fuck out of me. The notion of having a stroke, scares the fuck out of me. So really, pointing out why it's a more dire Dx for a pregnant woman vs a non-pregnant woman is really a moot point, and only makes me relive my existential loss all over again.

Curve Ball

Okay. I didn't see THAT one coming. Got the blood work from my endocrinologist, from the collection on 10/14/13.

Things for me to worry about:

• Plasma Renin ACT, LC/MB/MS 8.54 H (Potential marker for Nephrotic Syndrome, or Cushings) 
• Calcitonin 7 H (Possible marker for thyroid issues along the lines of Medullary Thyroid Cancer). 
• Melatonin NONE DETECTED.

Secretly hoping that maybe the blood tests were skewed due to supplements I take, wondering if the turmeric capsules I take for anti-inflammatory reasons, the omega-3 fish oil, hyaluronic acid, or perhaps that week I took omprezole for a few days are the root cause of this.

On an upnote, re: nephrotic syndrome they recommend a low protein diet, and suggest 1 gm of protein for each kilogram. For my weight it roughs out at about 80-85 gm of protein daily, and I feel I'm usually under that amount by 10-15 gm daily. (Trying to see how much, worst case scenario, this might impact me if it IS nephrotic syndrome. And to be honest, the idea of kidney failure and dialysis even remotely on the horizon scares the piss out of me. Literally AND figuratively.

ETA: The calcitonin reading might be a false-positive type result, given I've been taking coconut oil supplements for nearly a month. I started taking it hoping it'd help moisturize me from the inside out (my scalp is notoriously dry and flaky and itchy--perhaps this is a symptom of the nephrotic syndrome?). Little did I realize it actually affects the thyroid. I've since disposed of the last supplements in the bottle. I was planning on discontinuing anyway, given I didn't feel any great improvement with my scalp in taking it. One less bottle on the shelf, so I feel I'm ahead of the game. Let's see if this changes the reading for the next blood test.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: Hurry up and wait

Hurry up and wait. That's pretty much what this week is. See my chiro and perhaps my gastroenterologist on Saturday. And an appointment with the cardiologist and follow up w/the nephrologist on Election Day.  Wondering what THAT will involve. Perhaps if I wore a harness monitor for 24 hours, we'd be able to pinpoint precisely the times of day my pressure spikes (I suspect it spikes or there's an event while I sleep, which is what's causing me to wake up in the middle of the night).

Headaches persist. If it's not a menses related migraine, or related to the herniation at the base of my skull, then there's this wild card type debilitating headache. Tired of losing precious days of my life to pain. 

Hurry up and wait.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: No New Dramas, Part Deux

So yeah. About that proverbial "other shoe?" Yeah. It dropped.

It was premature to say "no new dramas" in the previous post. Monday night I got the call from the gastroenterologist regarding the possibility for a colonoscopy before year end, and on Tuesday I got an email from my nephrologist that my protein is high in my urine and he might want to biopsy my kidneys. So ix-nay on the o-nay ew-nay amas-dray. 

I follow up with my gastroenterologist in a week or two, and when I do I'll spitball an idea to him about possibly having him coordinate with the nephrologist, as well as the NP at the bariatric surgeon's office, and see if I can get an upper and lower abdominal CAT with contrast done, rather than go through the renal biopsy and colonoscopy. I can hope, can't I?

Had a good session with my therapist today about everything, and even against my initial reluctance to do so, discussed what happened with the sociopath. How I handled everything seems to be an improvement over how things like this would destroy me for days or weeks (or months) after. It made me appreciate that I *do* in fact have some pretty wonderful friends. 

Intentional cruelty is a trigger point for me, and one from which there is no turning back. Once that line has been crossed, I'm done. I go into insulation mode, and do the fade to black, distancing myself until that person is in obscurity. Only in this case, it was a full on verbal assault. No gradual fade. It was a verbal strafing, a strafing for which I am glad I have witnesses.

So rather than turn my anger inward towards myself, being angry that I was stupid or gullible or my judgement was dodgey to befriend someone who turned out to be someone capable of intentional cruelty, I reminded myself that THAT same judgement was also responsible for the cultivation of some pretty lovely, loyal friends. As I said to the therapist, it was all useful information. Unpleasant? Hell yes. But useful. He asked me how did I end things? I replied, "I took away his power. I stopped talking." 

Honestly, I don't know how much of what transpired was really his doing or if it were all brought about by booze or drugs. At its core, I am sure, resides the nugget of truth. That he IS truly a cruel person, and the booze/drugs just exaggerate it. No apology, weak or strong, has been forthcoming, which also is useful information in and of itself.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: No New Dramas

Yesterday I hit the trifecta. Well, two doctor appointments + one telephone call. All reasonable outcome.

Renal guy was first up in the a.m. His office was hopping and though my appt was at 10, I didn't get in to see him until roughly 11:30. No problem. I provided a sample, pressure was taken (in several different positions. Sitting up and then at a recline). Weight seems stable. Taking me off the CCB and just doubling the ACE inhibitor. Follow up at the next state/federal holiday coming up, which is the same day I go see a HTN specialist. I'm really hoping between these two guys, they'll get my BP in line, and end these horrible headaches.

Endo was next. Given the wait time at the renal guy, I didn't have time for a lunch beforehand (just as well, as endo likes to weigh me, and despite my weight loss, I still get anxious about hopping on the scale--especially since I've been on the CCB, as it's making me retain fluid). Despite feeling bloaty, I'm maintaining. Really wish I could dump off another 15-20 lbs, but it's going to take a bit of sweat for that to happen, I believe.

No new dramas. Mercifully. But I did mention to the endo how I've had so many things get scoped and scanned recently, that I"m really hoping to hold off on a colonoscopy/sigmoidoscopy for as long as possible, calling it my FINAL FRONTIER to be conquered.

And wouldn'tchaknow it... my gastroenterologist calls last night with the sonogram results, which for most intents are inconclusive. Appendix fine, which we suspected. No tears or anything obvious intestinal. Even the ovarian cyst rupture we hypothesized turned up zilch. The only thing that he did remark upon was the adenomyosis, which he doubts is the cause of the ACUTE pain. And yep. you guessed it, he casually suggested I have a colonoscopy just to rule everything out. So my heart sank a bit. But it's not urgent,  and as he called it a rainy day project, but one that he wants done before year end. 

So I find it super fitting to end my shitty "annus medicus horibilis" with a colonoscopy. We're shooting for *ahem* the tail end of December for this.

So, thanks to the thyroid goose chase...and the granuloma goose chase... and the RLQ goose chase... all the rainy day projects I had lined up to tackle this year have not been done:

*Follow up sleep study to get my settings on CPAP adjusted;
*See a hematologist regarding the FVLM & find out how my prothrombin may/may not be skewing my labwork;
*See a neuro who specializes in pain, to better manage things and help me keep moving, and moving forward.

Ever mindful that suffering is a part of life, and glad that all of these things, as tedious as it's been to follow up and stay on top of have all ended up being nothing life threatening issues. But more importantly, glad that my burdens are mine, as I wouldn't want anyone else's. We've all got our own shit with which to deal.

Another Sociopath Bites The Dust

Dear friends of mine, IRL, who know me beyond my text on a computer screen, feel free to not read this, as it just reiterates some things you already know. The rest of you, feel free to read on.

I am not perfect. I have awareness to know who and what I am. I have a healthy enough ego to say this.

One of my main mantras or guides I've used in life has been: Say what I mean, mean what I say, and try not to be mean when I say it. Oftentimes, if I think that what I am about to say could potentially be hurtful, I remain mute.  I don't know if I'd be bold enough to say "It's the buddhist way, to try to diminish the suffering of myself or others," because well, I don't like labels, and so much of my way of being and philosophy straddles several belief systems. All I know is, ultimately, at my core, I neither want, nor  take any pleasure in, being cruel to others.

Granted, my journey to good health has been a long one, and has had its ups and downs, like everyone else's life has. It's not a special journey, but it's mine. And even if I might (INTERNALLY) judge someone else's journey or the choices they've made, I try to limit whatever negative comments I might have on the topic. THIS IS WHAT SEPARATES US FROM THE REST OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM: IMPULSE CONTROL.

So imagine my surprise when someone who is on their own journey back to health, back to mobility, back to some measure of independence, battling pain and their own demons, someone who puts themselves out there as an enlightened Buddhist, posts a comment so utterly callous and judgmental on my wall on FB, I simply could no longer remain mute.

In sum, this person suggested/alleged that I surely have up to three different phobias or mental illness, implied I am over sharing (when he's got videos on YouTube documenting a bed sore on his ass--wherein his testicles are on clear view, and another one video documenting a urinary catheter that is not emptying), and also implied that I'm imagining what I'm going through.

As he made the allegation publicly on my wall, I decided to respond publicly on his wall, in a thread wherein he's discussing "gaslighting" and sociopaths. I did not sugar coat anything. He doesn't get a free pass because he's a quadripeligic. I've kept quiet long enough out of respect for that. But he's shown his true colors to me to be just that, plain and simple, a sociopath. 

I summed it up: a sociopath goes out of their way with the intent to be cruel. If the intent isn't there, then you're just a carelessly cruel dillhole.  And so the shitstorm conflated, and burned out rather nicely.

My response to, "Hey you offended me" were met without self-examination and without even weak apology along the lines of, "Hey, I'm sorry that was not my intent," but was met with more cruelty. He called me a liar about something very trivial (alleged that I ever used the word psychiatrist to describe my therapist--who IS a psychotherapist, but is a LCSW, NOT a psychiatrist), then started attacking my friends (both on my wall, as well as the walls of friends whose privacy setting is set to public) with misogynistic ad hominems. Apparently my posting topics irritate him.

Not at any point in time did he privately message me, which he still has the ability to do so, if he were to decide to apologize (not that it matters at all at this point, the damage is done, and well, I AM DONE with him, as once trust is gone, it's very rare to ever truly re-establish it). Instead, his intent was to insult and attempt to humiliate me.

This online friendship started in October (of 2011) and so in October (2013) it shall end. I had the very best of intents when I reached out to him after seeing some of the videos documenting nursing home neglect; however, here it is two years later, and really no change in his status quo. So perhaps all the videos were a vanity project, or a way to ensnare otherwise good-intentioned folks into a trap wherein he could be an empathy vampire, sucking out the good intent, feasting on the good will and attention.

So what took two years to culvitate, ultimately, in the end, took roughly 24 hours to destroy. 

There's a Buddhist theme along the lines of "take that which is useful, and discard the rest." In the end, that was my only recourse. And thank you "dear," you made it an incredibly easy decision to make.  Have fun with the delusion, "dear."

ETA: For posterity,  a bunch of screen caps from FB to document the dipshittery. 

*I decided that since he decided to make allegations on my wall, publicly, so my friends could see it, I'd post my rebuttal on his wall so his friends could see it. To date (Jan 2014 now) there are no further updates since October, so I don't know if he's still posting, or if I'm just blocked from seeing current content. Not that it matters for my purposes. Here are the screencap rebuttals and ad hominems:

Also: In the end, I found it somewhat amusing, in a very pathetic LOL kinda sick way of laughing at someone's cluelessness, that Ralph had issues with my candor or my sharing, alluding that I might have been OVER sharing. Be that as it may, I may be the queen of TMI; however, one thing is abundantly clear: I have never photographed my ass and slapped it up on YouTube for all the world to see. 



Good times. 

Again. Good luck with the delusion, Ralph. And PS: You have emerged victorious in Pain Thunderdome.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: Ultrasound Done... Hurry up and Wait

Nothing new to report; however, the ultrasound was done early this a.m. So I'm hoping that my internist will contact me with the results. I'm fairly confident NOTHING is going to show up, nothing out of the ordinary, and that either the pain was a fluke due to the fiber in the Arctic Zero, or perhaps it was an ovarian cyst that went 'splodey. 

Made for a bracing morning... bracing, like taking an icy cold shower, that type of bracing. When I scheduled the ultrasound I had no idea there'd be an intra-vag part of the diagnostics, and also I had hoped my onset day would not be until TOMORROW.

Yep. Trans and intra-vaginal ultrasound on a heavy flow day. I don't recommend this. But fortunately it was first thing in the a.m., and the technician was neither disgusted (outwardly) or nasty about it.

Hurry up and wait.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: Best Laid Plans... Blah Blah Blah

I *was* hoping that once summer was over, so too, would be the never ending supply of doctor's appointments and medical wild goose chases. I guess at this point, I'm striving for the end of 2013 being the end of my Annus Medicus Horribilis.

Over a month ago, my internist put me on a calcium channel blocker as an adjunct to my ace inhibitor to hopefully help my unresolved BP issues, to no real avail. The pressure is elevated, but I've been reassured it's not ZOMG STROKE LEVEL!, but still, given the fact I"m already at risk for clots, embolism, stroke etc due to the blood clotting disorder, I really don't want to tempt fate. Also? The horrible headaches which come out of no where, not to be confused with my menses related migraines. I'm losing days of my life to this nonsense.

And as I'll be at my renal guy at "The Mount" next week (and my endocrinologist who is a few blocks away), I was hoping to squeeze in an appt w/a HTN specialist (also at The Mount) on the same day, but the Universe's Power conspired against me and my best intentions to jam as much as I could in that trip into NYC. But perhaps, this is for the best, because after the summer I had, the result of which I never was able to find enough time to do what I wanted to do and go for a class on a particular crochet technique I want to learn. So perhaps if the instructor is available on Columbus Day, and Election Day... perhaps that will take care of two of the three classes (it's a class of three sessions). Perhaps THIS is how it's supposed to be.

So hurry up and wait until Election Day for me to get any real idea of what's cooking with my ticker. No doubt I'll be there having an EKG, ECG and a stress test. No doubt. Fun times await!

As if that weren't enough, last night I started having acute pain in my RLQ (lower right quadrant of my abdomen). I've had this on and off for the last two years. To date, I'm nearing my three year anniversary--well January makes it officially three years, since my WLS, so that's always a worry for me, that somehow I've injured myself.

Last night I ate (over the course of a half hour) a pint of Arctic Zero, a 150 calorie frozen treat, which I view as a frozen protein shake. It's got about 20 gm of FIBER in it, in the form of chicory etc, and perhaps this might TRIGGER the pain, but there's no flatulence, etc. So I don't really know what's going on. And given that I am about 24-36 hours out from the BLOODY DELUGE which is my menses onset, I also think it COULD be an ovarian cyst. Or it could be a kidney stone. Or something with the cecum. 

I emailed my bariatric surgeon's NP regarding this, and I also called and left a message for my internist to call me back with the thinly veiled "RLQ pain." Internist is a GI too, so that helps me. His first impulse was to say I should have my gyno do a sonogram, and well, my gyno is also at The Mount, and that's logistically a nightmare for me to coordinate everything, and I"d rather do as much diagnostic stuff close to home and save my sick days for WHEN I AM SICK BECAUSE I KNOW I WILL BE SICK. I get depressed at this certainty.

Long story short: As I don't have a fever, diarrhea, impactions or any other thing to indicate an emergency, I've scheduled my sonogram for Thursday a.m. before I head into work. 

I hate being this person, and I am wondering when my depression, bitterness and pain just engulfs me entirely.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: A New Rx

Amlodipine. Internist is putting me on it, and will monitor me. Hoping to get my diastolic #s down. I see the endocrinologist and the nephrologist on Columbus Day, so I could hopefully get a month into this Rx and see if it helps lower the pressure, lessen the tension type headaches, and hopefully make me less agitated and more prone to getting asleep (and maintaining good sleep). Here's to hoping. Going to start dosing tonight with dinner. I take my ace inhibitor in the a.m., and figure I don't want to start my day too groggy if the calcium channel blocker makes me too groggy. Better to sleep off the groggy, IMHO. Nothing else new to report. I'm about 21 days into my cycle, feel pain and weirdness. Maybe I'm ovulating. Meh. Let's see what next week brings: relief or yet another month of unbearable pain. Hurry up and wait.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: Quasi-Amazing: Difference a Day Makes

Being in chronic pain just grinds away at you, and can turn you into someone you hardly recognize as your SELF. After the summer I've had of non-stop medical drama, mess, disappointment, existential angst, and outright active, debilitating pain, I'm hoping today's the precipice of the tipping point, and (dare I say) hoping things are going to start to improve (at least until my next menses hits).  

Last night I went out to knit night with my friends, even against that inner voice saying not to. Not because I do not enjoy their company (which I do enjoy, immensely), but because I've been ground down to the point where I felt like I had nothing to give and nothing to gain from going, and of course, because I've been (perhaps justifiably so) a whiny bitch lately. So I went. And I'm glad I did. I'm glad because it felt good to be with friends. 

Humans are social creatures, even the most antisocial of us need human interaction. We're HUMAN. We laughed. Exchanged info. And in the course of chatting, I had an epiphany of sorts. And perhaps this epiphany is just enough to keep me from entering a realm I haven't wanted to enter: feeling sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for myself is an easy enough trap to find myself. 

Afterall, I finally did something proactive about losing weight and getting healthy, and get healthy enough to attempt to conceive. And while I liken this process I've gone thru to someone training for a Couch-to-5K, only to realize they overslept or the big race was cancelled.

So I've spent the summer feeling as if all of this effort was pointless, given the nature of the path my life has taken. Like why did I radically alter my body and my life, if the reason I did so isn't a driving force anymore? For weeks I've been thinking about the Big M (menopause) and how it waits for every woman, and thinking about how I can have a different peri and post-menopausal experience/narrative than my mother. 

Hells-bells! Losing a lot of weight goes a long way towards working towards the goal of having as stable or uneventful menopausal experience possible, and hopefully also ensures I'll be a lot happier and healthier and more mobile experience for the second half of my life. So last night during knit night, I had that a-HA! moment, where I connected those dots, and all that work and effort isn't pointless after all. However, the pointlessness of my very existence is always debatable at this point! At least all my hard work thus far hasn't been for naught. 

It's been a tough summer, and very hard for me to make any sense out of what I'm going thru at all. So at least I'm able to see some positivity in this. And I think today is the first day where I can say I see a marked change in the "blood situation." But then again, my uterus has a mind of its own. So who knows if I'll end up having to go home today to change my clothes. Because yes, I felt well enough and dared enough to wear light colored pants today.

Weight Loss Chronicles: Update on my Supplements

Looking over my archives, I wanted to see my inventory of supplements I'm taking. Here's the link to the last inventory I did.

Here's my current inventory: (This first group I take first thing in the a.m. with a hot cup of coffee): 

Magnesium 400 mg (1-2x daily) 
Omega-3 1400 mg (1x) 
Evening Primrose Oil 1000 mg (1x) 
Alpha Lipoic Acid 250 mg, 2x daily
Colace 200 mg (1x) 
2 Gummy VitaFusion Prenatal Multivitamins
2 Gummy VitaFusion Sugar Free Fiber Chews, 5 gm, 1x 

Then throughout the day I manage to get these in:

D3 2000 IU (1x)
Calcium Citrate, 250 mg (4x) 
Zinc (dosage I cannot recall at the moment) 
CoQ10 (50 mg, though I'm thinking of boosting this) 
Hyaluronic Acid capsule 1x (100 mg) 
Feosol 325 (2 tablets) 
Vitamin C, 500 mg, 1x 
Apple Cider Vinegar capsule 
KAL brand B12 spray (1-2 blasts under the tongue)

Melatonin Chronicles: Day 11

So far it seems to be helping me doze off. I've been trying to get out of my habit of sitting in front of the computer in the evenings to try not to "energize" my brain. I still watch t.v. in the evenings w/the husband. Once he goes to bed, I usually watch a little more t.v. Since I've been dosing with melatonin, I find I've been falling asleep in front of the tube. And I usually end up getting up about midnight to turn out the lights, brush my teeth and head to bed. Last night was the first night in a long while I've had a trippy dream. And today when I woke up, I am groggy and foggy headed. Not sure if that's due to melatonin, my depression, or something else. Tonight is my knit night, so I'm looking forward to that. And hoping, of course, I'll have something interesting to say/share with my two friends. Last thing I want to be is a "Debbie Downer." It's been a rough summer. I feel like I've aged 10 years in the last three months.

In Too Deep, I Suppose

(FB Status update just now) 
I know I'm in this funk a bit too deep when I misread (after blinking several times, mind you) the word INTERFILE, and *thought* I was reading the word INFERTILE. Can I go home now? Like forever? ETA: I removed this from FB, as I felt like a whiny bitch after posting it. And at the moment, I cannot decipher support or empathy from outright pity. So read my whiny bitching here, folks. Good times. Pain: Vacillating between a 3-4. Friday's pain: 6-7 agonizing (yep, still room for MORE PAIN, and still agonizing.)

Hysteria

Yeah. It's not really funny.

Annus Medicus Horribilis: Reply From the Gyno

So I got replies from the gyno (surgeon) regarding my expectations after the ablation. He tells me that the first menses after the surgery is heavy, but things will gradually normalize thereafter. I'm in a considerable amount of debilitating pain (and it's really grinding on me). He wants me to come into the office for an exam and "to talk." What's there to talk about? There's nothing that can be done... well, beyond the BIG H, which I do not want. I cannot even process that at the moment. 

He tells me other than just "time" he could put me on birth control pills. And my inner bitch really stifled itself at the mere suggestion of the birth control pills, because fuck me running, if I didn't have a blood clotting disorder that puts me at a higher risk for clots and stroke, and if I didn't have elevated cortisol issues which could potentially lead me to clots or stroke, FUCK YEAH, I would have taken the pill rather than totally, irreversibly put the kibosh on what little is left of my fertility, all for the hope of a pay out of no more debilitating pain. So why waste his time and mine to discuss what, exactly? Birth control pills I cannot go on, or hysterectomy which is something I want to avoid outright? I was hoping the ablation would buy me some time until I hit menopause, so then hopefully I could avoid having a hysterectomy. 

Since my gastric bypass, I have had more than my fair share of fecal impactions and constipation issues, and I fear that having a hysterectomy will just exacerbate that. Also the potential for prolapsing my bowels thru my vagina is a big deterrent, plus painful sex or a diminished drive or having some other sexual dysfunction is a concern, too. So that's that. No plan for pain management. I've got tramadol from my internist, which barely blunts the pain. I took one on Friday and I still managed to leave the office early due to agony. The only thing that blunts it enough is the occasional cocktail and using my TENS unit at home. This is not how I want to live my life. So, I'm done talking to friends about it. I'm sure I've worn out my welcome and have exceeded the acceptable level of hand holding I can expect from friends. So I'm going dark. No more discussing it (on FB or in personal conversations). I'll unload here or on my therapist, and that's that. And just suffer in silence. With any luck I'll just die in my sleep.

Melatonin Chronicles: Day 8

Was a bit anxious about missing a dose (like I did Sunday and ended up awake until 3 a.m. Monday a.m.), so I took a full dose, 3 mg about 9:30. Finally got groggy enough to get to bed by 11, and don't remember much more than that. Didn't take long before I fell asleep, and from what I can recall, I did not wake up with a START like I normally do. I think I slept straight thru until about 7:45, but I did not want to get out of bed. Hard to live like this. Either the physical drain is draining me, or the emotional depression is draining me. I just want to stay home in my safe cocoon and putter around the house. I hate people, and I really have nothing productive to offer at work. I'm distracted and in pain. Bossman just asked how I was doing, as I was pretty much destroyed by pain (and disappointment) on Friday. I replied, "Better than Friday, but still shitty." 12:01 p.m., and gritting my teeth until it's six p.m., which cannot come fast enough.

Today's Birthday Gift

During today's session with the therapist, he told me he thought I was handling everything very well, and even said it was inspirational. I'll tell you what, it doesn't feel like it's very inspirational. He ended the session with "Keep doing what you're doing. You're experiencing a death. Take as much time as you need." 

But I know grief well. I'm grief's bitch. I know that I'll never get rid of it, it'll blunt the edges a bit just enough for me to be sucker punched at a time when I think I've moved beyond it.

It's always going to be there like an anchor.

Plans Aborted: Part Deux

To recap, I left work early on Friday as a result of (what shall I say here? debilitating? agonizing?) pain.

My plans for attending a craft show (to see my dad's elder sister, who I rarely see) shit the bed.
My plans for hosting a luncheon for my brother-from-an-Indian-mother, shit the bed.

And here I am, it's Monday, and had a full day's activities planned in NYC (after a therapist appt), and these plans, too, have shit the bed.

Waiting to do what will end up being a phone-in session with the therapist, an ironic one, given that my surgical procedure was supposed to or promised to change my pain paradigm, and since it hasn't it's negatively impacted my ability to go in for a therapist appt, to discuss why it cannot be an in person therapist appt.

It's kinda like the Inception of Suckitude actually.

Dropped the husband off at the train, and did a minimum of grocery shopping. Put up my steaks to dry age, got myself in the shower, and hoping I'll compose my thoughts enough to have a productive session with my therapist.

Mood: Pensive. Anxious. Depressed. Bleak.

Happy motherfucking birthday to me.

What's Stunning

...Is the lack of support.

There's a hierarchy of sympathy and it goes thusly:

If your parent dies, most folks can either empathize or relate to that loss, and sympathize accordingly.
Same thing goes for your spouse, or sibling.
Even more so if you have a kid.
And when your baby dies, some folks are a bit weird, but still forthcoming with sympathy.
Less so if you miscarry. Enter the realm of awkwardness.
And well, for the rest of us who have to suffer the loss of the possibility, the loss of our fertility... well fuck us. We have to suffer in silence.

At work I've taken the tack of no longer giving out my smiles for free. Hey after all, it doesn't get me anywhere, and really the folks I'd be dispensing smiles to haven't done jack shit for me in 11 years of working there*. I even went so far as to say to someone recently when they remarked the lack of smiles, "Hey, why should I smile? What have YOU done for ME lately?"

And really, I've reached that point where I'm separating the chaff from the wheat and really realizing who my friends are. And no, my friends aren't the ones with whom I've spent countless hours helping thru whatever their drama du jour is. My friends are the ones who SEE AND KNOW what's going on with me and they reach out to me, privately to let me know I'm loved and they wish they could help.  Even outright strangers on the net, folks I've befriended and never met or only met once... those are the ones who have reached out. (And of course friends I've had for 30+ years). 

I cannot help but look at my friends list on FB and see 250+ people and it's appalling, the paucity of support. Been thinking about deactivating my account, maybe temporarily, maybe permanently, in response to it. But FB does serve a purpose while I'm at work and it passes the time. But it is also a reminder of who responds to what type of posts I post. WTF and crazy shit? Yeah. Folks come out of the woodwork. I'm destashing shit or posting a picture? Yeah, same folks come out of the woodwork with their hand out for my stuff or a recipe. But to be PRESENT? And compassionate?  Fuck that. 

I'm flailing. I know. And I'm angry and depressed and disappointed in a good lot of things this summer.

I just wish I'd die, to be honest.

*ETA 2/12/19 Nearing 17 years of being here and not a god damned thing has changed in this office, and in some respects, things have degraded FURTHER. 

End of the Future. Must Stay Grounded In The Present

So cleaning out the bathroom drawers and found this EPT whose services, obviously, are no longer required in this household.

Hard not to get emotional about it, when I"m experiencing moderate to intense, active pain. Hard not to get emotional about it, when my own actions having the ablation and to be responsible, having the tubal ligation after, have pretty much sealed my fate.

Hard to think I went my whole life thinking motherhood would find me, only to realize that bitch was never out looking for me. 

Hard to think that the life I thought I'd live isn't what I"m living.

Hard to deal with all of this knowing my dad's not here to hold my hand and if need be, cry right along with me. The loss of him signifies the loss of my past. And the loss of the possibility of having a child of my own, signifies the loss of my future. This all leaves me no recourse but to live in the moment. But what is left for me in the time I have left before I pass? A few more inane spats with my husband? A few more good meals? A few more vacations? A few more laughs or tears? Surely that's not IT, is it?

Mood: Melancholy and bleak.

Plans Aborted

I was really hoping that the ablation would help alleviate the excrutiating menses pain and adenomyosis pain I experience.

For the last 24 days, I haven't stopped bleeding, and I believe my actual menses started yesterday. The pain yesterday was moderate, and today's pain has been nothing short of "exquisite." Left work early today as a result, and pretty much have been curled up in a ball most of the afternoon, making noises that only dogs or dolphins can decipher, and overall hating life.

I'm beyond disappointed. I was hoping to no longer be a prisoner to my pain. I had plans for tomorrow and Sunday, both of which I've cancelled as I don't anticipate this changing anytime in the short term. And I have plans for Monday, my birthday, and the jury is still out on whether or not I'll be able to do what I need to do, much less do what I WANT to do on my birthday.

Husband left work early and came home, with a bag of dinner in hand, and immediately set about trying to do what he could to make me feel better. I'd be lost without him.

Onset to Onset: 23 Days

23 days since ablation & tubal ligation. 23 days of medium-to-light (and back to medium) flow. 23 days, onset day to onset day. Tradmadol ingested one hour ago. Fuck me running, status quo has been maintained (or one could argue that it's WORSE, given I've been bleeding nonstop for 23 days). But I guess bleeding = the blood is coming out and not building up in utero or in the fallopian tubes, so perhaps there's a chance I won't suffer from some post-ablation syndrome weight gain. Here's hoping. But still? I'm fucked no matter how you slice it.

Weight Loss Chronicles: 2 years and 8 months post-op

I have not lost one single pound since January 2012. Devastating when you think of it. It's not for lack of trying (well, other than I am not in a regular excercise routine), as I am pretty diligent about packing my feed bag for work, and staying compliant with my protein intake, supplements, and adhering rigidly to the 30 minute wait time after eating solids before transitioning back to liquids. Perhaps this is the cortisol talking. Perhaps. I'm hoping that the melatonin supplement I'm taking will get me back on the right track. Get me in a good sleep habit, and break my habit of pulling all nighters, being up until 2 or 3 a.m., and of course having 1-2 more feeds in the process. Hopefully more sleep (and more restful sleep) will = less calories consumed and = more weight lost. Well, you know what Ben Franklin says about people who hope, right? (they die farting.)

Not to be Remiss: Ablation

So it is now three weeks to the day since I had uterine ablation and my tubal ligation. Still too soon to tell if the ablation is going to help me at all. I was under the impression that it would help my symptoms. I was also under the assumption that afer a few days to the first weeks, I'd experience a "watery" discharge. Well, there's nothing watery about it. What drove me to have the procedure was the unrelenting agonizing menses pain and excessive flow. Well, I went from losing a few days to one full week of my life to menses, to what appears to be three weeks of flow. Granted, it's on the light side, but I'm still wary of wearing light colored clothing. So here I am. August. And I'm wearing black. So really, from my point of view, no change in my status quo. Also? Yeah. Good times. I'm no doubt ovulating this week, which means, no rest for the wicked. That if by some weird fucked up stroke of luck my flow finally subsides, next week it'll start back up again as my regularly scheduled menses. So all this is to say, that I'm regretting it all. At least before my procedure I could delude myself into thinking I didn't have kids because of fertility issues and now I"m too told to do anything about it and had the tubal to prevent what could be a life threatening pregnancy (if I were to become pregnant). The rub, bub? Yeah. Since I have't had one single day without blood, yeah, I haven't felt like having sexy times. And at this rate, wondering if I ever will. Between this and the unabated elevated cortisol issues making me cranky and wound up tighter than a fucking top, yeah. I'll be so fucking glad when this horrible summer is over. But that won't happen until after I turn 45. One more good time to be had. A reminder of me losing one more year to fucked up genetics, fucked up fertility, and living a life that has been so fucking convoluted and NOT what I ever dreamed my life would be. Signing off for now. Color me: Blue. Blue as in blue haired old biddy, Get the fuck off my lawn you hooligan. I don't feel like myself and wondering if/when I ever will again. Whatever that means.

Melatonin Chronicles, Days 1 & 2

Sunday night I started self medicating with melatonin, to try to reverse or change my cortisol levels. Sunday night's dose was 3 mg, and I got to sleep okay, and woke up okay, a bit groggy but okay. But I still needed the assistance of either the alarm or my husband to wake me up. Half dosed last night (1.5 mg). Got to sleep around 10:30-11 p.m. despite another pre-sleep accidental tickling. Got up 6:45, no alarm. Got out of bed 7:15 since I couldn't go back to sleep. I puttered around doing housework etc, before getting ready for work. 

I heard back from my ReproEndoGuy re: the melatonin, and he thinks I might benefit from it. But I want him to run a baseline on me (of all three, cortisol, DHEA, and melatonin) so I can monitor any change or progress for three months of dosing. I might switch to a lower dose melatonin to see how little I can get by using. And will be tracking my progress via that spreadsheet I alluded to in my previous post. Here's hoping I don't lose my formatting like yesterday. I just could give a shit less about going backwards to reformat my posts.

Email Sent to ReproEndoGuy and RenalGuy

The following is the body of an email I sent to my endocrinologist and my neprhologist in regards to my elevated cortisol: 

I’m going to organize a spreadsheet so I can get an idea of the changes in my DHEA and my cortisol levels. Would you be interested in reviewing this spreadsheet? If so, is there any other item you’d like to see tracked on this spreadsheet? 

For years* My DHEA has been excessively high (*10+ thereabouts, though, I only have on hand blood reports dating back to 2006 (I’m sure I’ve got earlier blood test results at home, just misplaced/MIA at the moment), and since my weight loss surgery in 2011, the DHEA has lowered, yet the cortisol is now spiking. 

What little I have read about DHEA and cortisol, they emanate from the same area of the adrenals, and I wonder if there is a connection? I have three major concerns regarding my cortisol:

1. I do not want to be a “nervous Nellie” of a patient; however, I have made considerable progress with my weight loss surgery, and do not want the elevated cortisol to undermine my progress. To date, I have not lost any weight since January 2012, and I am now 2 years and 7 months post-op.

2. I am also concerned about my blood pressure, which remains on the high side, despite my dosage of Quinipril being upped to 40 mg 1x daily. 

3. Sleep. Prior to my WLS in 2011, I had been using a CPAP for apnea and discontinued using it as I was not convinced I was getting any benefit. Weight loss notwithstanding, my sleep continues to be a big issue. Not only do I have problems falling asleep, but I also have problems MAINTAINING sleep. I wake up several times a night. 

Unrelated, I have been having palpitations or possibly anxiety/panic attacks occasionally, and not sure if this is related. Is there some dietary supplement (i.e. Relora?) from which I might derive some benefit? I’m curious about what the next step will be in solving this mystery.
 ### 

In the meantime I'm debating sending a note to endo guy to see if they can test my melatonin, cortisol and DHEA regularly to monitor this. I took melatonin last night (3 mg) and managed to get to bed by 11, and I think I remained asleep until 7:45 this a.m. Don't want to get in the habit of using this until I get a baseline for my melatonin to see if that's the key to unlock what's wrong w/the cortisol.

Two Week Follow Up, Thereabouts

Had uterine ablation and tubal ligation on 7/23. So far so good, though I'm still a bit unimpressed. Surgical procedures were fine and came with it the predictable discomfort from, at least, the laproscopic portion of the procedures. And here it is, about 11 days later, and it appears as if my period has not stopped. It's not mere discharge. I cannot go without wearing a pad. And this has me depressed and wondering if this procedure is going to help me in the long run. 

Saw the surgeon on 7/31 for the post-surgical follow up, and he said that all seems well, and he didn't want to see me for another year. Though did make mention that with my adenomyosis, uterine ablation aside, I still could have between period spotting. I've been reading up on the topic and I guess this current "spotting" (subtext: NEVER ENDING PERIOD) might abate after about 4-5 weeks. I'm just hoping that things even out thereafter and I won't have to worry about a hysterectomy. Just trying to bide my time for the next 5-7 years until menopause hits. I really, really want to keep my uterus (for structural reasons, as I don't need more difficulties in the bathroom than I currently have).

I don't feel 100%, despite getting a return to work letter for 8/1. Mentally I'm drained today, and have a birthday BBQ to go to, which I *am* looking forward to, but at this very moment, I'm struggling with myself to get showered up and out the house and be in a festive mood, when really for the first time in 11 days, I just feel like crying. 

I'm hoping I'll feel better once I'm showered up and dressed, and I guess if I am still not feeling 100% while at the party, I can excuse myself.  I baked a special cake for the day and hope it's as delicious as I expect it to be. 

If it's not my pain debilitating me and keeping me from DOING THINGS, then it's my depression sucker punching me when I least expect it.

PS: My mother knows about the procedures, which by extension means my sister knows. And I haven't gotten so much as a text, email, or call from her to see how I am doing. I guess it's my punishment for not going to my niece's graduation party (graduation from ELEMENTARY school, btw) a few weeks back. Folks fail to realize how debilitating pain and depression can be, and fail to remember that if I do go to family functions it's normally done solo. But hey, let's vilify and punish me because I married a man who refuses to play my family's passive aggressive games. It just perpetuates the loss of my dad, and the feelings I have that God and family have forsaken me.

*SIGH.*

Off to shower I go, and hoping for the very best for today, and hoping my friend's birthday barbeque is a lovely, enjoyable affair for everyone.

Murphy's Law... Maven's Spin on It

Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will.
Maven's Corollary to Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will, usually spectacularly so, and usually with an audience.

Ablation & tubal scheduled for Tuesday.
Full on first day of period is predicted for Wednesday.

I fucking started spotting today. Ever since the age of 12 when the curse has darkened my doorstep, I have been quite private about my menses. And now, fuck, it looks like I'll have an up close and personal audience for it on Tuesday

Still Hurry-Up-And-Waiting

Pulmonologist called me yesterday to let me know my TB and CBC came back negative and normal, respectively. So I think we're waiting on one more blood test to find out, conclusively, if the granuloma is going to prevent my surgical procedures which are fast approaching.

Apparently in 2008 when I had my sleep study done, there was a chest xray done, so the pulmonologist compared the xray from a few weeks ago to the 2008, and the granuloma was there, and unchanged. Which leads me to believe that the granuloma is from the time I helped clean out dad's back room, and inhaled bird dander and microscopic amounts of bird feces that got kicked up in the cleaning frenzy, and NOT something I inhaled while in India a few years ago. So, at least that's a good thing. And I'm not suffering any breathing issues as a result of it, and my body has done a fine job of identifying something "foreign" and encapsulating it in a shield of calcification. So whatever I did manage to inhale, it's somewhat neutralized.

I called the pulmonologist's office and got the same shit head who set up the appt w/an internist and not a pulmonologist for the pre-surgery clearance, so I'm wondering if my doctor ever got the fax number for my surgeon, to pass along whatever reports, etc. As much as it chaps my ass, I doubt the person answering that phone has the intelligence necessary to pass along a phone message, so I'll be reduced to calling AGAIN, asking to talk to the doctor and confirm with the doctor that the message was received and/or if the reports have been forwarded. 

Time is a-wastin', and I don't have time and luxury to let slackers fuck with my surgery.

Hurry Up and Wait: Yet Another Appointment

I've really felt as if I were a dog chasing its own tail as of late. Before I can even have my surgery next month, to bring about some change in the agonizing adenomyosis pain (and mess), I had the thyroid scare a month ago. Now the current Wild Goose Chase is this granuloma thing on my lung.

Appointment is Monday. I just zapped off an email to the hospital that did the chest xray just to confirm that they, in fact, sent the reports and CD to the doctor. Tedious but necessary. 7/8 is the pulmonary consultation, and my surgery is slated for 7/23. So, essentially Monday's consultation will make or break those plans for surgery, depending on if I need further diagnostics run.

PAIN. IN. THE. ASS.

I Hate People

Yes. I do. However, I do see myself trapped by that statement, as I am, obviously, a PERSON. To clarify, I hate people who are lazier and/or STUPIDER (yes, STUPIDER, to drive home how very STUPID these folks are) than I am. And yes. I'm lazy and stupid, but we're talking DEGREES of laziness and stupidity, and perspective, and perhaps self awareness. I know (to certain degrees) I am stupid and lazy; whereas there are some folks who tool along WHOLESALE UNAWARE that they are stupid and lazy.  And to those folks, I say, "FUCK YOU, ROYALLY. SERIOUSLY AND SIDEWAYS."

How might the statement "I hate people" apply to the "Wild Goose Chase Du Jour," aka, the granuloma discovered in my lung, you might ask?   Here goes.

I call my pulmonologist's office to schedule a consultation to check out my granuloma because I am having surgical procedures 7/23. I very clearly stated this, as DUH, I am not going to a pulmonologist FOR FUCKING FUN. I wanted to schedule an appt w/Dr. V, yet he's unavailable. So they schedule an appt w/Dr. L. Brilliant. So I contact my surgeon's office to see about getting the chest xray results faxed to Dr. L., only for me to do a quick GOOGLE NOW, and realize HOLY SHIT, Dr. L., isn't even a mother fucking pulmonologist.

Luckily I have nearly a full month until my surgery, and I'm very glad that I got my anesthesia consult done as early as I did, because what if I waited two more weeks, then I'd be spending the two weeks before my surgery running around, getting agitated and exasperated. I truly do hate people with the stupids.

I call back and was not even polite about it. I railed into whomever it was who answered the phone, and REITERATE I called to schedule an appointment w/Dr. V., who is a pulmonologist. I very clearly stated I needed to be cleared by a PULMONOLOGIST for my surgery, and yet, the dimwit scheduled an appt with an internist. Well, fuck-me-running, I already have TWO VERY fabulous internists I already see, so why would I want an appointment with some third internist, when that's not what I even effing need?

I'm not even apologetic at this point. I'm annoyed because as a result of their stupidity, I'm now enduring second party stupidity by annoying the surgical liasion at the surgeon's office with emails regarding extraneous shit. 

Best part of this story? The payoff? The doctor's first name?

DIMPLE.

How can I stay angry after reading that as a first name?