Random Thoughts

Improvement wears many dresses...  

My wonderful 80-year young neighbor Mrs. C has been taking me walking again this week. This started Saturday when I cut class early so I could go to the Farmer's Market. She wanted to see if they had any "goodies. (I found some luscious spinach, mixed greens, purslane, and some budding plants at the Market.) Mrs. C and I haven't been walking in a long time for various reasons: my classes, she was hurting, weather was too cold, weather was too hot and so on...

Last Saturday, she complained how badly she hurt from that simple trip to the market and back again. After some discussion, she said she would think about going walking with me first thing in the mornings again. I really didn't expect her to call me bright and early Monday morning with her usual "Ready Freddie?" We went walking. 

We did again this morning. About half way around the library park, she had to sit down.  She encouraged me to finish my lap but hastened to tell me to hurry up about it or she would just go home! *laughs* So I went walking around the park, quicker than I usually do.  Needless to say, my legs were cramping fiercely by the time I was halfway finished, but because I was afraid she would get up and leave, I walked through the cramps. I'll probably pay for that later but I amazed myself that I could find that level within myself and walk through the cramping instead of stopping and whimpering like a baby. 

I reminded myself  when I began this journey two years ago, I couldn't walk around the park at a snail's pace without coming home exhausted. I had to stop at every corner of the park because the cramping was so bad that I wanted to fall down and move past merely whimpering into an ambulance for a ride home.  I hurt that bad. 

At the time, my various doctors explained that I had blood clots in my legs and arms and that caused the vicious cramp-burn-muscle knotting pain I experienced. At the time, only one doctor gave me any advice that I would follow that was not related to surgery. He told me to simply walk every day. 

 So now I feel a sense of pride about one of my goals because it's reachable. I feel like one of those pioneer women who gave birth one minute and  defended her home from marauding outlaws while saving her homestead from burning to the ground. 

Ok...may be NOT that good.  But I definitely understand that I have improved because of my lifestyle changes. I also understand that this journey of mine will never be an easy one because I crave carbs dressed as cookies and breads and rice and cookies and pasta and potatoes and cookies and cous cous and cookies and...Well you get the picture. 

Speaking of that, how come giving up smoking was so much easier than giving up carbs?  

The BC Life...
Otherwise Known as The Confessions of a Coffee Addict

Since I've moved to the percolator for our coffee pot, I have about a half hour every morning before it's finished. My old life used to be "Don't talk to me, don't ask me to feed you, don't ask me to do anything complicated like think about the day or ask me if I know where something is and don't wake up cheerful of all the gawd-awful things to do BEFORE COFFEE!"   

Some mornings I would give only one warning: "It's a two-cup day."  That meant don't do anything or ask me anything or even talk to me until I've gotten at least two cups of coffee down me first. And you would be safer if you let a half a pot get into my system before even breathing or looking in my direction. 

A dear friend who used to be a classmate called me this weekend and asked me, "Have you had your coffee yet?!?!?!"  Since she called me at 8:30 in the morning, her question was legitimate. And then she reminded me that I used be really, really bad BC. She remembered the days when I was trying to reduce my consumption of coffee down to something that was "reasonable" and how fellow classmates brought me cups of coffee before class so I would be "reasonable." 

Yeah, yeah, yeah...and that was a long time ago. I've changed. No seriously--I've really changed.

To give you some examples: This morning I went walking with Mrs. C BC.   Before our current drought initiated the severe water restrictions, I would water and sometimes weed the garden BC. I feed the cats and the birds BC. I start laundry or do a quicky load of dishes BC.  I read my favorite blogs BC. I answer emails and phone calls from students BC!

How's that for seriously changing from the coffee hag into who I am today? *grins at you*

Alright--I confess. I warn my morning statistics students with "I've only had a cup and half of coffee today--so I hope you had your protein because we're going to hit this hard and heavy so I can get that last cup in before it's too late for me to have any!"  

Nonetheless, there's still life before coffee!

Humongous Bead Give Away Reminder!
If you haven't signed up--please do so! The bead drawing is coming closer and closer to its finale! Go to Denise Yezbak Moore's blog and check out her huge, ginormous, bestest ever give away! The Bead Addict is screaming at me--actually pulling at my hair because I'm reminding all you beady readers there's still time to enter. She wants all these beads to for us to keep--but I believe in "What comes around, goes around." Since you've been generous with me--I'm spreading the news! 

Doctors and Medications

 

 Ya'all just bear with me. A blogger friend is going through some trying times and have been posting about her current issues with her health and her doctor. In fact, several people I know have either been going through medical issues themselves or with their loved ones. It's a scary, heart-stopping time.

Back when I got so very sick in March 2008, the first thing the doctors did was OD me to get my blood pressure down. At the time it was necessary since by medical rights--I should have had a major blow-out stroke. I remember getting ready to go home and being terrified because I was so weak. It took all my strength to navigate from the hospital bed to the bathroom and back again. That little bit of exercise forced me to take a cat nap...only to get up and have to visit the bathroom again. I was so very glad that they wheelchaired patients to the outside--I would have never made the walk. 

I don't remember all the medications I was sent home with--I couldn't read and that really, really frightened me more than the weakness. I could handle the weakness. I couldn't handle not being able to read. I've been reading since I was four years old--I don't remember ever NOT reading. It's one of my skills that's a pleasure to have. Not being able to make sense of anything in front of me scared me. The nurses were always having papers for me to sign and I couldn't read any of them. I don't know what I scribbled what I hoped passed for my signature on--I just signed where they told me to sign. 

I also could barely comprehend what people said to me. I grew up with hearing problems but have learned to compensate for those problems throughout my life. Back in March 2008, I had a hard time focusing on what people said to me and misunderstood a lot. That was just as scary as not being able to read. I felt like I lost very vital pieces of myself.

Meanwhile, I experienced all kinds of side effects: blurry vision, constant headaches, extreme dizziness, heart palpatations (that felt like I had the god Thor pounding his way out of my chest), hypothermic chills that would last anywhere from one to four hours several times a day, constant nausea, extreme chest pains, weight fluctuations, continued high blood pressure, and suicide ideation. Yes, that's right. I constantly thought of suicide. Funny thing was--I was no where near suicidal before I got sick and came home with a bucket full of medication.

 I ended up back in the hospital again. My husband fought for me. Normally I'm the fighter--the scrapper--the one who goes to battle. Between all the side effects and the weakness, I couldn't speak for myself clearly. Doctors steamrolled over me--a new and very depressing feeling and issue. I hated feeling like I was not in charge of my life or that I was "too stupid to comprehend" the simplest of instructions. Yes--one doctor told me I was "too stupid to comprehend the instructions" when I asked him to repeat what he told me. I was trying to take notes--not that I could read, but I knew my memory--which saw me through elementery and high school and college--was not working properly. 

Because my husband fought for me, I received new medication with no change in the effects. I was told I had to get used to the medications and it would take a week to ten days. Other doctors told me I had to just learn "to deal with the effects--these medications are saving your life!" D became an expert at reading contraindications of various drugs. Some of the side effects were serious adverse effects, which meant I needed to stop taking them. And others were allergic reactions which meant "these medications" were killing me. I got told the same thing over and over again--because I've had one heart attack (or not any at all--depending which doctor was temporarily in charge) I could expect to have more. If I had serious chest pains, I needed to go to the emergency room right away. I was experiencing another heart attack.

Finally, in one of those emergency room visits for the supposed heart attack, I found a doctor who would listen to me. I could see it on his face how alarmed he was at my rising and uncontrolled blood pressure, how hard my heart was pounding, and how suicidal I was. He immediately pulled me off all the medications and ordered a bunch of tests. That's when we found out that some of the medications I had been taking did some damage to my already-damaged kidneys. That yes, I did have a small attack, but the current chest pains weren't heart attacks. That I was ALLERGIC to all kinds of medications, including nitroglycerin, morphine, and most high blood pressure medications.  Oh by the way--suicide ideation is a clear indicator that the patient is allergic to the medication!

I also liked what this doctor had to say--that we work together as a team to help me make the best medical decisions for me. After experiencing other doctors who belittled my questions, blew me off, or ignored my feelings--especially about being over-medicated--it was refreshing to hear someone say that we were working together.  


It's coming up on my second year anniversary and I'm still battling medication issues. I'm not taking the bucket full of drugs I did two years ago, but I'm still having the dizziness, heart palpatations, weight fluctuations, and chest pains---just not as frequent. And most of these symptoms are related to medications I still am taking.

I quit my cholesterol drug because my cholesterol levels were never the issue. One of my issues with the cholesterol medications is that most doctors told me I would have to be on this medication for life. That did not appeal whatsoever. I also read several studies that linked cholesterol-lowering medications to dementia. Having already experienced losing my mental accuity and facilities, I decided it wasn't what I wanted to do ever again. My doctor may not have LIKED my decision, but he respected me enough to work with me. 

I also quit taking the thyroid drug because I didn't need it. My thryoid is working properly. I still don't understand why I was on that medication for a year.  The adrenal gland tumor hasn't grown and the thyroid medication wasn't keeping it from growing. Turns out these adrenal gland tumors are fairly common and most don't require medical intervention. 

I cut some of the dosages down on other medications that are linked to heart palpatations and chest pains. It's helped to lower the frequency of the attacks, especially at night. Instead of taking six to nine different high blood pressure drugs, I'm down to three, and I'm on low dosages at that. I recognize that I do have a problem with high blood pressure, despite the changes in diet and exercise. I know that my high blood pressure most likely came from my smoking for 20+ years. I did that to myself. Trust me--no one held a gun to my head and made me smoke, ok? Quitting that habit has helped me a lot with my health issues. Despite the good I've managed, I know I'll probably be on hypertension medication for a while longer. 

I FEEL better than I did two years ago. I like being able to work with doctors who listen to me and what I have to say. I'm grateful that my husband fought for me two years ago. I'm grateful I'm alive and as healthy as I am today. Two years ago, it was a question of how long do I have. Today, it's about working with what I have.