Seriously, What the Hell, Body

Dealing with multiple sickers ickers REALLY sucks.

Not only do my feet hurt and my hip on my left side twinge with whatever nerve thing is going on there.

The trapezius and deltoid in my left shoulder is spasming painfully and the spasming resists stretching, massage, heat, ice, topical lidocaine, NSAIDS, extra magnesium (internally and externally), valerian, passionflower, chamomile, peppermint oil, etc etc etc. I’d be slathering lavender oil on even though I’m allergic, buuuut…

I also might be allergic to SOME fucking thing in the house. I’ve been good with my food but my eyes keep blowing up, even though I’m taking 25mg benadryl 3x a day to make the shoulder thing livable. Any allergies should be conquered by that, right? And for most humans it’d mean you’re knocked right the hell out? But no, not me. I’d go to urgent care to get a prescription for muscle relaxers buuuut…

I am really hesitant to take anything new because I ended up allergic to my new fucking ALLERGY PRESCRIPTION. Full face blowup, venom sac-like things and all.

*headdesk*

And on top of all of this BS?

I’ve been struggling with a nasty cold (which Jon opines is the source of my eye blowouts since stopping the prescription, but I’m not so sure) including sore throat and loooong drawn out coughs. So pleasant. Plus? The extra magnesium has not helped my belly much. *side-eye*

I am fighting REALLY hard to not have this be the way I segue into 2020. A little help, here, Universe?

Transitional Phases

I’m in a weird state of disability right now, in which I have a foot with four different conditions that doesn’t want to heal, and a back that has decided it’s going to stab me with burning cold stilettos if I move even a centimeter the wrong way. Even better, while sleeping helps the former, it makes the latter MUCH worse.

(I’m glad I didn’t Konmari; my Lordoloc back brace from my disk surgery in 2016 is proving to be a life saver.)

Before this happened, a dear, beloved friend of mine actually asked me “If you could heal yourself just by not eating meat, would you?” I had to remind her I’d already been vegan. I’m not that kind of meat eater. And I was well aware that her intentions were “holy cow there’s got to be a way my friend can heal. Maybe I can help her.”

It’s got me thinking about transitions and liminal spaces, and how much people want to be, and help you, through them. Most forms of sickness and disability are viewed as a phase that you need to get through. Healing is to be rushed through to get you back to an “acceptable” state.

There’s no real space for accepting where one is.

It’s frustrating, this rush to get back to the “healed” state. I mean, certainly I do NOT want to be in pain. That’s a given. But it’s not like I’ve had a trustworthy body all my life that has suddenly fucked off on me. I’ve had all sorts of issues since I was quite young. Skin, feet, back… all before I hit the double digits.

It’s not like all this stuff I’m going through wasn’t heralded.

When I put my foot back in the protective boot in order to not be in pain I felt a surge of rage at my backsliding that surprised me. My mental process was “As if I don’t have enough to deal with, the only way I can be pain-free is to encase my left foot and ankle in this clunky plastic-and-foam-and-velcro… almost exoskeleton. What the actual fuck.”

Didn’t even occur to me to be grateful there was an option. Some folks are just… in pain. And sometimes I… am just in pain. So on comes my lower back, stabbing me, to remind me what THAT constancy of agony felt like.

I think it’s about time that I stop treating this aspect of my life as something I can heal from, and quickly. That’s pretty ableist of me.

It’s time for me to think about what I can do to make this life, this immediate, as-I-am-right-now, life work for me.

Norovirus + Cold

Okay, this is pretty miserable.

Went to my gorgeous niece’s birthday party this past weekend. Lucky us, it happened to be scheduled during a brief pause between when Jon was recovering from a nasty bug (it’s been going around his office) and when I was coming down with it.

But the “coming down with it” happened while we were prepping for the 5-hour drive back home. Ugh.

Let me say that 1) traveling while sick with norovirus is uncool (UNDERSTATEMENT) and 2) having a cold on top of it is just extra cruel. Last night with its combined “not only are you nauseated but you also can’t breathe through your nose” made for some unpleasant sleep.

And then I dreamed I was being framed for a horrible thing I didn’t do. Had to escape from Bosnia-Herzegovina on top of a train without being caught or electrocuted. (I’ve never been to any part of the Balkans; I don’t know why that came up. But apparently Bosnia-Herzegovina has lots of lovely waterfalls, so maybe I should go…?)

Enduring simultaneous multiple illnesses affecting the head and throat: do. not. recommend.

Being Prepared – The “Doc’s Ofc is Closed for the Holidays” Version

Every week I get an allergy shot, in order to reduce my immune response to my allergies and lessen the intensity of my breathing issues. (It’s made it easier to breathe on a regular basis, but the runny nose I got in exchange was annoying, and I still have bad reactions to mold.) Usually both Jon and I get these on Thursdays, since the local office is open until 5:30 pm then. But, yknow, Gluttony Day is always on a Thursday, so this week Tuesday before 1 pm is our only local option.

Which means I was up earlier than usual, and Kizu will be walked earlier, and also benadryl wooze will be a thing because the shots are not fun with Claritin, and I don’t want to spend my afternoon struggling with symptoms. By 8 pm I am going to be SO wiped out.

So yesterday? Got a rotisserie chicken so I don’t have to think about food. And I have a bok choi already out and staring at me, which I will saute when I get home so the veggie part will be taken care of too. *thumbs up*

 

 

The Adventure of the Dual Ear Infection

The entirety of last week both Jon and I were fighting a flu.

Late on Friday, I started feeling intense pain in my left ear. Like someone was pushing needles through my ear canal. To the point where I was screaming in pain.

Jon said I should go to the doctor. I didn’t want to move – omg the idea of being in a moving car made me want to puke just thinking about it – but agreed that if it was still bad after sleeping, we would go.

On Saturday the pain had subsided in my left ear but started up in my right. We went to a Walgreen’s clinic to get diagnosed and, hopefully, treated.

Otitis media.
Otitis externa.

We waited for our prescriptions to be filled right there.

Amoxycillin.
Neomycin drops.

(Jon got amoxycillin too, and Tesselon pearls.)

So here I am on Wednesday and I cannot hear worth a damn via my right ear. My tinnitus in that ear is LOUD. When I walk, every step of my right leg causes a rather loud noise inside my head. On my left side I can hear better, but it’s only half as good as it was before this. The tinnitus on that side is mild. And when I shake my head, I hear one tone at the right and one on the left – almost an octave apart. The tones are higher in the daytime, lower in the nighttime.

Don’t get me started on the auditory hallucinations this has caused.

This is all brand spanking new for me because I cannot recall ever having an ear infection, ever. While the experience was initially a painful experience I never want to repeat, and it is currently really fucking irritating, it’s also very *interesting.* I mean, the tones alone are kind of neat, experiencing how the eardrum is affected by the movement of my head and the fluid within. It’s also intriguing to note how my brain has been interpreting different pressure on different locations around and in my ear. While I would never want to repeat the painful ones, and some of the non-painful ones are truly disconcerting (like the one that sounded like cell phone interference in music), the fact that I can hear my vertebrae moving much more clearly, and sometimes feel my heartbeat, well… I hafta admit it’s kinda cool.

Of course, the fact that listening to NIN hurts? Not so cool. (It’s just Ghosts, ffs.)

If it’s still a problem tomorrow, I’m supposed to call the clinic. Eek.

Will our intrepid adventurer beat the wild bacteria swarm? Stay tuned!

This Is A Post About Pain

Consider the title the content warning. It’s all about pain.

Feel warned enough?

Okay. *deep breath; squares shoulders*

Yesterday I experienced a terrifying moment where simply attempting to stand up from a crouch hurt so badly I was momentarily blinded. It was in the backyard of our apartment building, and Jon and I were taking Kizu for her midday morning walk. I was literally just crouching to pick up after the pup – attempting to stand back up initiated a whoosh of pain so severe I couldn’t breathe for a millisecond. When the pain increased as I tried to return to the crouch, rather than subsiding, I cried out for help from Jon. He was about 10 yards away, and I had to repeat myself because it hurt too badly for me to even think of raising my voice.

Yeah. That bad.

And I keep on thinking about that. That there was a level of, or kind of, pain where my brain was so shut down, I could not scream.

That’s scary, you know?

I remember the first time I herniated a disc. That feeling of being stabbed in the back. I ended up kneeling in the tub, repeating “Oh my god, stop, stop, oh my god, stop.” But my voice was loud and strong at the beginning, only tapering as the pain continued at the same level. Therefore I knew that if someone had been close by from whom I could request help, I could have called out. Also, I wasn’t blinded by the pain. I could see where to place my hand to give myself support.

In the park I needed desperately to lean on something and had no idea where to go. Jon heard me at the second “help” and came to support me, but for that split second I was freaking out.

I honestly never knew there was a state of pain where one’s senses turned off, but you retained consciousness.  I am hoping that I’ll be able to forget it.

*

It took me until around 9 pm to return to my standard “I’m in constant low-level pain” state. Even with taking double the amount of pain medication I normally took. And it was absurd to feel such a huge surge of gratitude when the label said 1-2 pills every 6 hrs instead of 1 pill every 6.

It’s been interesting, this past week, to be off my fish oil and valerian regimen and to see exactly how much pain that was covering up.  I figured there would be a little masking, but this much?

It has me REALLY looking forward to my surgery on Thursday.

 

And If One Is Interested, A Bit of Back History

(Nyuk nyuk. Get it? *Back* History?)

((Also, this is the point at which tl;dr folks should scroll past. This post is LOOOONG. *snore*))

I love that moment when you discover that a bunch of the things you’re struggling with turn out to all be one specific wound. There’s SUCH a relief knowing if you heal the wound, all these other things will go away.

That’s been true of my mental health and of my creative health – now it’s true of my physical health as well.

I’ve had back problems from my teens, and have been given a grand assortment of possible reasons why. My hips simply didn’t like the whole “standing around” thing, and after a certain age riding a bicycle hurt like hell. I’ve had orthotics since I was 12. Had debilitating headaches when I was 17/18. From age 23 on, every so often my hip and right leg would hurt like hell. I started getting migraines at 25, which were attributed to TMJ when I was 28.

Yadda yadda yadda, my list of illnesses and conditions and diagnoses (both correct and incorrect) goes on for paragraphs. My primary care physician always gave me painkillers and sent me to physical therapy, but it never “took.” The only solution I ever found to the pain was with this one amazing chiropractor – Avery Ferentz – who always used to say “If I can’t fix you in 3 visits then I can’t fix you.” I would literally be put up on blocks to change the angle of my hips and/or shoulders, and after two visits I’d be pain free and on my way.

But Avery Ferentz unexpectedly died in 2002, at age 49. The last time I saw him was late 1999. Which meant things went downhill from there.

I had my first herniated disc in November 2004. (While cleaning the tub, of all things. Nothing like feeling like someone is stabbing you in the back while you’ve got rubber gloves on and a noseful of cleaning product fumes.) I kind of attribute it to not seeing Ferentz for 5 years. And of course, when I asked my PCP to send me to a chiro, she said no and sent me to physical therapy. And let me just take a moment to kiss the sky for the existence of Cynthia Gormenzano – she’s the one who told my PCP to send me for an MRI. I had my first back surgery in 2005 and it was a success.

Or so I thought.

Fast forward to 2013.
(I can hear you breathing a sigh of relief – but there’s still more!)

Now that I am look back, I think I herniated one of the discs while dancing during a wedding. While that intense pain went away within two months, that WAS when I started getting what I called The Swell – around noon every day I’d start to feel any clothing I was wearing close to the skin tightening on me. At first I thought it was bloating, but now I believe it was inflammation increasing as I moved through my day.

So fast forward again to early 2014.
It started with my feet. While poor Amelia was dying. I was having a tough time putting pressure on my feet when I got up in the morning.

I thought it was because the orthotics I got in 2004 had bad worn patches in the padding and I’d been wearing a pair of sandals with too-low arch support.

I had the orthotics replaced, but that made it worse. Plus I started gaining more weight because I couldn’t move around as much.

Ended up having to move out of our huge Bronx apartment into a smaller (but better for us) one while in extreme pain. Yeah, that was fun.

Diagnosed with plantar fasciitis in 2015.
Hydrocortisone shot didn’t do a damn thing. Plus I got a scar from the freezing spray.
This guy tried orthotics but the pain just got worse. And traveled up my legs. Ended up having to move out of NYC entirely while in extreme pain. I believe I herniated the second disc at that point.

But I am SO grateful I ended up in Houston for my next go-round with doctors, because the health care culture in Houston is a thousand times better than in New York City (albeit still fat-phobic and gender-restrictive). I got xrays in positions I was never asked to do before and it made the spondylolisthesis quite obvious. The MRI was actually nice. I’ve been given estimates on cost the whole time. Given that I’ve had terrible luck with doctors my entire life, I’m feeling really positive now.

And that, my dear readers, is truly the tl;dr – changed my place, changed my luck.