Another Waiting Game

So I’ve been so busy lately I never had the chance to write an update post about my kidney “situation.“

I went to my GP primarily for a probable knee sprain or strain due to jumping off my bed like an impulsive idiot; while there, I mentioned my other pain problem.  Since this doctor is tremendously thorough, she suggested some imaging for my knee to rule out a blood clot (negative) and said that I could very well have some stones (kidney stones) that were so small they didn’t make me pass out from the pain (like they did to my dad a few years back.  Pulled over and passed out on the side of the road he did).

Now I’m not entirely certain, as knowledgeable as my GP is, that she’s all that up to speed on the freak shows that autoimmune illnesses can be.  Still, she seems more open-minded and receptive to all the possibilities than most physicians I’ve been to.  After a negative urinalysis, the only thing she needs to review are the results of my pelvic, abdominal, and lower back sonogram.  I am exceptionally proud of myself for keeping my cool and not jumping off the table during the tortuous process. Then again, my sonographer made me feel relaxed and comfortable, but only during the second time I saw her.  For the vascular sonogram of my legs, I didn’t have enough time to mentally prepare myself, and thus was a near nervous wreck.

I find that if you tell the health professional ahead of time of whatever things scare the holy heck out of you, they will usually find some humor in it (at your expense, but it’s better than none at all).  Then you are able to establish an easy rapport with them and barely notice when the procedure is finished.  I only wish this worked at the dentist…

To be continued, hopefully by this Friday.  Color me one inpatient patient.

Image Sources:

http://bestquotesaboutlife.org/life-quotes-140-sick-waiting/

http://studioqube.deviantart.com/art/Waiting-for-Snow-45172842

Human Energy Beatdown a/k/a, June 2012

Yes, that’s accurate

This post will be short as I hit a button that magically erased all of my diligent thinking.

No news regarding my latest sonogram, which was last Friday.  Liver, gall bladder, pancreas, as well as kidneys, had all been checked.  It was a harrowing experience as I am extremely ticklish and more terrified of the scanner than I am of a needle.

Am I surprised I haven’t received a call?  Nope.

There is not enough time for all I want to accomplish this summer.  Somehow I’ve deluded myself into thinking I’ll casually do the following: Spanish level 3 twice a week, GED/writing tutoring, ballet (yes, ballet) class once or twice a week, bizarre yoga/fitness classes that I must attend to fulfill my Groupon that expires June 30th, Immunology, GRE’s, Mandarin Chinese (“just a little”), SAT tutoring in Harlem (not going to work since it overlaps with my already rescheduled Spanish classes), and an online copywriting course.

Dahn Yoga.  Dahn I believe means “energy” in Korean, but who really knows.  I wish I had been aware of the wrongful death lawsuit involving a CUNY professor on a training endurance hike for the cult spiritual enlightenment group.  Perhaps I would know that smacking yourself on the kidneys to “wake them up” or smacking yourself on the head to energize your brain was not normal.  Oh, wait, it’s not smacking, it’s tapping.  If it was tapping, why were we told by the instructor that she “couldn’t hear us”?  Might I suggest a more straightforward, honest name for this hour and a half confusing, likely harmful exertion of vital lifeforce: Human Energy Beatdown.  Now the Dahn people aren’t all that bad.  They provided delicious tea after the borderline excruciating sessions ended, and I might actually return to tai chi since I felt it was very peaceful, yet rigorous for a formerly flexible gym-phobe such as myself.  Well, except for the bowing, constant annoying chanting “Ashanamaa” (???!!!) upon exhalation, and the guy who randomly moved and stole my view of the mirror.

Also, I’m not so certain about pursuing medical social work anymore.  I hear too many horror stories, and I think the last one really made me want to throw that idea in the garbage. I have been dealing with some troubling family issues that make me feel rather drained because I’m not able to help – I just want to find an easy solution and be done with it.  Not so with this.  As such, I would make a lousy social worker.

Oh, and how could I forget the other thing on my summer to-do list: writing!  I was also going to take a class on that, but I think I will just wing it.  I wish I knew where to start, though.

I keep going back to tea. It’s so good for you.  There are so many varieties.  It can wake you up or help lull you to bed.  Reduce blood pressure or help sooth joint pain.  Perhaps that’s where I’ll start.  My greatest fear is being guilty of cheap writing, i.e., top 10 lists.  Yes, some are well written.  But they’re so prevalent.  Is writing anything better than nothing?  Anyhow, I strongly believe in the power of tea.  I certainly hope that my father does, too.  Hint hint…

Of Sensations & Struggles

“What does not kill me, makes me stronger” – Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

I don’t want to end up suffering a mental breakdown as Nietzsche did (watching a man beat a dead horse of all things), however I will admit to becoming increasingly sensitive over the years.  For instance, I remember on one visit to get a single shallow cavity filled, the dentist had to inject me with Novocaine *8* times.  Dental pain is one of the most dreadful feelings you can experience.  I also made the mistake to have my teeth professionally whitened a few years ago…$500 and several useless Advils later, I’m crying in my bed desperately pleading for the lightning hot jabs to pause so I could fall asleep.  I recall getting an hour of sleep that night – two would be stretching it.

I also have what is known as “sensory defensiveness,” which you can read all about in Sharon Heller’s Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight – What To Do if You Are Sensory Defensive in an Overstimulating World.  This book was a godsend to a freak of nature such as myself.  I had to move out of my last apartment (where my unabashed introvert self lived blissfully alone) due to noise, Noise, NOISE!!!  Over me, under me, while soaking in the bathtub (under which lay the main stairwell), dogs, kids, garbage trucks, my old landlord’s stereo right below my head if I had the misfortune of  staying home sick that day…studying for microbiology with earplugs inserted AND the bathroom fan blasting in a lame attempt to drown out “Stompy,” a person I’d only met in my nightmares.

At work, there are several ladies whose olfactory bulbs have gone dim.  Quite dim.  Let’s load on the White Diamonds, Tresor, Tabu and whatever cologne you can find that was popular in 1986 dim.  When I enter the bathroom, supposedly to gain some respite from being at my desk too long, or just because I have to go, I’m immediately assaulted with a bouquet of nastiness.  I’ve gotten severe headaches and nausea from it.  As a result, I’m sick AND annoyed not only because it forces me out of quiet-land,  but because it keeps happening.  Oh and what happens when I return?  My human (human? hmm) latte dispenser coworker is there, going la la la…blah blah blah…This is Jeopardy!..lalala… I’m getting a nervous tic just imagining it.  Most people have gotten used to the way she is, but not me.  It’s slowly wearing me down.  And that’s just one voice.  Another person sitting close to me sounds like a Scarlet O’Hara mated with Foghorn Leghorn.  I say, I say, I say SHUT UP!!!

I believe that, were I not already plagued with whatever I’ve got, I could probably shrug some of this daily nonsense off.  But since an autoimmune disease is already part of the equation, and stress is known to exacerbate symptoms, my mind just can’t help but freak out a little.  Or a lot, depending on the day.  If I’m uber-stressed, my joint aches will morph into an overall gnawing, burning pain.  I really am trying not to be a pill-popper, but lately it’s been difficult.  The pain has gotten  worse to such as degree that I’ve been taking on average two tramadols per day at 50 mg each, in addition to my regular 400 mg daily dose of hydroxychloroquine.  Add to THAT 5 mg of prednisone(my first systemic corticosteroid!)  which I’ve been on for a couple weeks now.  Subtract the Evoxac I was given a sample of for dry mouth (really, my throat), for giving me profuse night sweats.  Tonight I believe I had  my first side effect of wicked nausea, as I can’t rightly say it’s from another drug and because there is no way in hell that I’m, ahem, with child.  Horrors. Didn’t I just quote Nietzsche not too long ago?  Let’s figure myself out first, shall we?  The world is too awash with bad perfume to bring new life into it.  That’s assuming I’d even want to.  Or would be able to (I have a wonky bicornuate uterus).

My eye doctor at the SUNY clinic proclaimed that I have all the ocular symptoms of Sjogren’s syndrome. After turning my eyes into a hippie’s dream with all the dye staining tests (Rose Bengal, Lissamine Green), I got to have thread stuck to my cornea (phenol red test) and had plenty of lacrimal gland stimulation…quite possibly the least sensual type of massage imaginable, however stimulating it is for tear production.  I am happy to say that the price of Restasis magically dropped down to an affordable $50, so with my discount it was only $25.  Not bad, considering it’s something I’ll probably have to use for the rest of my life.  I was prescribed FML Forte to kick start the Restasis, which I’m glad I only  needed for a month because of the terrible poisonous aftertaste.  I was also told to use Refresh Night ointment, however it’s like sticking Neosporin into my eyes.  Too goopy.  I’ll stick with my Thera Tears Night drops.

I also got some more blood taken by  kindly vampires, I mean, phlebotomists.  Of course, my body being the confusing landscape that it is, I envision the results to be normal across the board.  I’ve been under a great deal of stress, though.   Horrendous stats class coming to an end, scientific editing course successfully completed (with an A and a go-ahead to aim for a PhD by my professor!) , family “fun”, work “fun” and all the other stuff life has been throwing at me.  So if this doesn’t kill me, as most autoimmune diseases only hope to maim, cause ridiculous amounts of pain or just plain piss a person off, then it will only serve to add fuel to the fire.

Then again, lack of sleep negates the whole being “stronger” thing…