Health Update in lieu of actual entertaining or informative reading......

I haven’t posted to this blog in quite a while and now I’m using it as a bulletin board.  For this I apologize.  I do anticipate having more time and energy to devote to writing here and elsewhere in the decidedly near future.  In the mean time I will allow my friends from FB to read this letter I recently sent out, as it tells my recent health story as well as anything my lazy ass could write again for the same purpose.

Okay I’m going to rip this Band-Aid off and then you can quit reading if you like. 

I’m quite sick and have to cancel my July 2014 50th Birthday trip.

 

I’m so disappointed and sincerely sorry on so many levels but hurting and inconveniencing you, my friends who I love, well that hurts the most.  Please believe that I regret this deeply!!!

I’m doing this in a group email because I’m still quite emotional about this whole situation and couldn’t take doing this so many individual times.  I’m also including people I love who weren't scheduled to attend - just because it's easier.  I might suck just a bit.  :-) 

That’s the gist of it.  Please feel free to quit reading if you’re sick of hearing about my pathetic health issues.  Otherwise, read on…..

So everyone knows I’ve struggled with fibromyalgia for almost 3 years.  Recently I’ve had tons more severe and varied symptoms.  I’ve been increasingly sick most of the last several months.  Ridiculously optimistically thinking all my efforts would bring about positive results any day.

I’ve been diagnosed with quite advanced Hypothyroidism; related to or along with Hashimoto’s disease.  It’s an autoimmune disease that attacks the thyroid.  We believe that all three conditions are linked, other than over-lapping symptoms.

In addition my thyroid remains very swollen.  It also has a sizable growth, called a nodule.  These two factors are causing pressure against my windpipe making it difficult to breathe at times.  All these months when I’ve been out of breath for no apparent reason, I figured I was just ‘that’ fat!    :-)

I have a great endocrinologist and like her very much.  I’m taking a thyroid medicine and the dose will be adjusted routinely.  I also have to do a ton of blood tests every other week to track my levels.  Additionally, I will have regular ultrasounds of my thyroid to track its size and any possible growth of the nodule.

Although it wasn’t a complete surprise since I’ve been so sick - it’s still hit me hard emotionally.  I’ve been trying my best to stay positive but have spent the past three days having a big pity party and doing a lot of crying. 

I’ll suck it up soon though because I have to be at work again on Monday.  (Doctor says most of her patients can’t work; not an option for me).  Yeah that’s a bit more left-over self-pity in case you missed it.    :-)

I’m going to suck it up, do what needs to be done and beat this bunch of bullshit diseases, if it kills me.  I have no other choice so I might as well get credit for having a good attitude! 

I’m thinking of starting one of those “kick-start” sites for funding to build a salt-water pool in my back yard, as I can’t think of any better (doctor approved) therapy to get me past not diving or traveling for a while.  Any suggestions welcome.

I’ll be back to my normal (abnormal, but happy) self before long, I promise.  Please don’t pity me or be irritated with me….  Just hang in with me and send lots of love and healing thoughts.

Love you all and will write individual notes soon!   Doc says I can expect improvement and a bit more energy in about 3-4 months!  Woo Hoo!

All my love – seriously!

Stacy

That's why they call detox "Kicking It"

I wanted to share this recent incident with the few people I feel do love and care for me as an email, but now thinking a blog entry is more appropriate.

I’ve been on Hydrocodon for almost two years for back pain.  I’ve been on Norco (a stronger version) since my Fibro diagnosis in December 2011.  In the past 7 months I’ve been on and off a variety of pharmaceuticals and pain medications.

We had quite a scare back in March when the Cymbalta caused a mental break that almost landed me in the psych ward.  I have a very delicately balanced chemical make-up apparently and the smallest change can throw me into a tailspin.  From then on, I wanted to only take the pain medication – Norco.  It helped the pain and I felt no mental consequences.

Recently as the pain seemed to intensify I began taking more than the three a day that I was allowed.  The doctor wanted to put me on another, stronger, longer lasting pain med.  I’d already tried and rejected Oxycontin – the addiction was swift and horrifying.

I refused to consider the next option up the pain meds ladder, MS Contin as its Morphine!  UGH!  So a power struggle between my doctor and I.  Unfortunately, I was in no position to make a stand, as the doctor controls the meds.  Like bringing my wits to a gun-fight~ 

Beginning Thursday morning, I entered into a nightmare state called detox, or withdrawals.  I came off ‘meth’ in the 80’s and thought that was bad.  It was a picnic compared to the agony of this.  Opiate withdrawals, in the same chemical family as heroin, so it’s my understanding the withdrawal symptoms are quite similar.  Also, in my case I had the mental/emotional aspect making everything that much worse. 

Many of you know I’ve dealt with depression for many years due to some serious childhood traumas and heredity (genes.)  I’ve always been very firm and negative on the idea of suicide, having grown up with my mother’s constant attempts and threats.  I’d never consider it.  During this detox misery however, several times it seemed like a valid and acceptable response to end the pain.  That’s how bad it was.

Amber my beautiful brilliant daughter has been by my side through this whole big mess – while also caring for an infant!  I feel more guilt than I can ever expunge, for having her deal with this, because I felt there was nobody else.

I finally slept some last night for the first time in 4 days, woke up feeling weak, head-achy and insubstantial, like I was barely here.  My skin is still feeling raw and tender, not to mention the standard Fribro pain…but the body-wide twitches and jerks are mostly gone so that’s a huge relief.  My body is now basically free of any external chemicals, so I should begin feeling back to my normal any day now.  Once again I’ve made it out the other side, and without being tossed into a rubber room.

I’m not preaching here about the evils of drugs, absolutely not looking for pity; Just saying it happened, somehow I survived and now must find a way to move forward to live a happy, productive life; this is going to require a big change and maybe more bravery than I have.  I’m feeling scared and incapable right now but I’m sure that will pass.  I need to find my joy again.   

I’m embarking more completely on a holistic approach to my whole self health. Don’t worry, I’ll not be sporting Birkenstocks or chanting to a crystal in my belly button.  I’m going to step up the vitamins and healthy eating as well as see an acupuncturist often.   I even signed back up for yet more therapy (UGH) but as Amber pointed out – my mental state is a big part of everything that happens to me, usually making it worse!

I’ve never been good at asking for help… still makes me burn with shame for some reason, but I’m going to need help.  Just saying and sharing it here will help me overcome my irrational shame. 

Peace and Love - Stacy

Dog days of childhood.

Quick warning and disclaimer… This entry is pure therapy for me, offering almost no reading entertainment for you.... 

2 AM I woke up from a whopper of a nightmare.  A new variation on a common theme: back in my childhood situation trying to save myself and protect Amber and sometimes even Bobby.  This time it was the dogs; Ledger and Hurley.  I woke up sobbing harder than usual and then my mind exploded with a Pandora’s Box of memories.  I hadn’t exactly ‘suppressed’ them; I have total recall now but had completely forgotten…. 

A little history is necessary at this point…

From about age seven until fourteen I was under the complete control of an ignorant, white-trash, sexual-sadist, drug addicted, habitually unemployed, sociopath (undiagnosed, in the interest of full disclosure) who my mother married.  A few close friends have heard some of the more interesting and/or entertaining anecdotes from those days.  Professionals have heard, in excruciating detail, every story I remember.   Occasionally something will trigger a random memory flash, usually just arbitrary incidents of no real importance or interest.  Not this time.

 

Falling in love with first Hurley and then Ledger, I kept saying I couldn’t believe I’d gone my whole life without knowing this special love and happiness that a dog brings to every single day.  I hadn’t though.  I’ve had a dog, dogs before!

Gunner was the name of my dog when I was 9.  He was a small, light tan mixed-breed ball of energy and love.  I spent every available moment with him.  Surprised that a puppy locked in the bathroom all day will chew at the door, they tied him up outside.  Even though we lived in a rural trailer park, 8 months of barking when he was alone during the day, they sent him to live in town with a friend and then he was ‘stolen’ when I asked to visit him.  I was heartbroken but not surprised.

Waldo and Agnes were the pair of non-papered Irish Setters that he bought to breed and make money from selling the puppies.  We lived in town at this point so they had a minuscule fenced off section in the corner of the back yard, about 15x20.  Those poor creatures spent 98% of their time in that little pen.  I wasn’t allowed to take them out or play with them.  However, it was my job to feed and water them each day and to clean the pen once a week.  (Strange, I don’t remember ever throwing up back then although it was disgusting and unspeakably gross.  Apparently my weak stomach is something I’ve acquired later in life.)  When people weren’t willing to pay for any of the 13 puppies… all of the animals were just gone one day.  I missed them but mostly was glad I didn’t have to see their sad lives anymore.

These, with much more detail of course, are the memories that came rushing back to me in the middle of the night.  Considering the big picture, these are almost happy memories, so no idea why I’d forgotten them so completely. 

Inundated and overwhelmed, I couldn’t decide what to do with all this.  I can’t call Amber at 2:00 AM and haven’t’ seen a shrink in years… (thought I was over all this shit) so decided to purge it out here.  Not remotely what I advertised with this blog but then I’ve slacked in publishing anyway so at least I’m consistent.