...Get out your calendars, and magic markers. Start the office pools. I had nearly two full days of health in the new year before getting sick. My first bronch infection of the year arrived on January 3rd. I'm now coughing up chunks of lung. I figure tomorrow and Wednesday are going to be the 'peak' days, when it's at its worst. At this point in history, the anticipation is almost as bad as the actual peak of sickness...almost. My next infusion isn't until next week, so I should be at a decent IgG level--especially since this hit last week. I better be in good health when I go to San Francisco at the end of the month or I'm going to be extremely pissed.
I was not able to get in to my PCP today, so I'll see him tomorrow, proably get a shot in the ass, and put on oral antibiotics.
I'm enough of a regular now, that I have the little playful banter with much of the staff. If "T", the hot little tech comes in with the bottle and syringe, I ask, "Do I need to drop trou?"
He says, "yes."
I reply with, "OK, but you first."
The ice is broken. If only dating were that easy.
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Monday, January 5, 2009
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Not Hypochondria
Sometimes I wish the illnesses were JUST in my head—that I was somehow imagining it. After 3 days in bed, vacillating between chills and sweats, soaking the sheets, I saw my dr. today. (I called Monday morning, this was the first opening and I didn’t call the nurse to bump me in this time). I have fucking strep throat—AGAIN! Second time this year. This isn’t on the list of approved illnesses for CVID. WTF?! Seriously, WTF!? I’m so pissed with myself that this one didn’t enter my radar as a possibility, and I didn’t figure this one out. Two weeks ago at my last infusion, my throat was scratchy. He did a strep test then. It came back negative. So, instead of being top of mind, my dyslexic brain erased it from the possible options.
This time, my tongue scrape solution barely hit the blotter before showing the + sign. Strep tests are now like pregnancy tests (not that I have any experience with those), Plus you don’t piss on the test strip. Other than that, they’re similar. But, they take a swab from the back of your tongue, mix in a little tube of solution, pour the tube onto the little holder and wait to see if the + sign shows up. Instead of being knocked up, you have strep…and it doesn’t last for nine months.
So, I was right. I’m really sick again. Sometimes being right sucks shit. I prefer my sick when it's combined with twisted.
This time, my tongue scrape solution barely hit the blotter before showing the + sign. Strep tests are now like pregnancy tests (not that I have any experience with those), Plus you don’t piss on the test strip. Other than that, they’re similar. But, they take a swab from the back of your tongue, mix in a little tube of solution, pour the tube onto the little holder and wait to see if the + sign shows up. Instead of being knocked up, you have strep…and it doesn’t last for nine months.
So, I was right. I’m really sick again. Sometimes being right sucks shit. I prefer my sick when it's combined with twisted.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Serious Chronic Illness* pays off, Once Again!
Last December, I wrote a post about being asked to be part of a focus group regarding CVID, (the illness/ diagnosis I have).
*–sidebar—I never quite know what to call it. Disease doesn’t seem to fit, as it’s not something communicable, and not something I caught from someone else (other than possible in utero); ‘condition’ doesn’t really fit either; which leaves me with illness, but that doesn’t seem to fit either, because it’s actually other illnesses I get (bronch, sinus, (and now apparently ear infections). So, I end up calling it ‘my diagnosis’. What do I call it? Any recommendations, Dr. Mark?
Anyway, I had an email from the Primary Immune Deficiency Foundation, that there was going to be another focus group for Immune Deficiency (non-HIV) patients who receive infusions of IgG. Once again, it pays an honorarium and mileage. However, there was no mention of snacks this time. If I could get one of these gigs every month, I could start breaking even on my monthly meds co-pays at Walgreen’s!
The focus group is next Saturday. I’ll give a report after it occurs.
*–sidebar—I never quite know what to call it. Disease doesn’t seem to fit, as it’s not something communicable, and not something I caught from someone else (other than possible in utero); ‘condition’ doesn’t really fit either; which leaves me with illness, but that doesn’t seem to fit either, because it’s actually other illnesses I get (bronch, sinus, (and now apparently ear infections). So, I end up calling it ‘my diagnosis’. What do I call it? Any recommendations, Dr. Mark?
Anyway, I had an email from the Primary Immune Deficiency Foundation, that there was going to be another focus group for Immune Deficiency (non-HIV) patients who receive infusions of IgG. Once again, it pays an honorarium and mileage. However, there was no mention of snacks this time. If I could get one of these gigs every month, I could start breaking even on my monthly meds co-pays at Walgreen’s!
The focus group is next Saturday. I’ll give a report after it occurs.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Seriously Universe, WTF?!
As noted in the previous post, I was back at my Dr.’s office and got a shot and put on oral antibiotics for the 4th sinus infection of the year. A week into this course of meds, my right neck lymph gland is swollen, and right ear begins to hurt. Tuesday night, I went to bed at 7:30, because I was exhausted and felt like shit. I NEVER go to bed that early (to sleep). I go back yesterday (Wednesday) to my Dr. I’ve now got a fucking otitis (outer ear infection). Onset occurs AFTER a week of being on antibiotics. WTF? So, it’s another shot (on the right ass cheek this time), and extension of the oral antibiotics. Unbelievable. So, I ask if these two infections are related—did the sinus infection migrate to the ear. No. Should I make an appointment with an Otolaryngologist (ENT-Ear Nose Throat) doc? Yes, we should consider it, but not until I’m off the antibiotics. HE wants to monitor this, and see if it (sinus infection) will stay away—or see how long before it strikes again. I ask Dr. K, “ WTF? —I thought these monthly infusions of IgG were supposed to keep from getting these infections so frequently. It doesn’t seem to be working. It seems like I’m getting sick as frequently if not more so since I started them over two years ago.” He says we might try going to every 3 weeks, instead of 4-5 weeks. He’s done that with another patient, and it seems to have helped him. I ask how they determined the IgG dosage? Is it a guess? Should he take blood and see where my antibody level is to monitor it? It seems now would be a good time, as it’s midway point between infusions. “Good question”, he replies. He’s not sure, but will go do a search to find out. He returns 15-20 minutes later. He can’t find any research or data doing a quick internet search, but he’s going to investigate more. He quizzes me about being depressed. “I’m not depressed, I’m pissed off.”
“About what?”
“About being sick all the goddamn time.”
I know the signs of depression. I know the signs in me. When I’m clinically depressed, I have low to no libido. Without going into details, this is currently not an issue. It’s definitely not an issue at this time. I’m just over feeling like shit so often.
“About what?”
“About being sick all the goddamn time.”
I know the signs of depression. I know the signs in me. When I’m clinically depressed, I have low to no libido. Without going into details, this is currently not an issue. It’s definitely not an issue at this time. I’m just over feeling like shit so often.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Colonel Mustard in the Kitchen With a Floor Tile
Colonel Mustard, in the Kitchen, with a Floor Tile
WASTHTR*-2008, Vol 2
My birthday wasn’t supposed to suck this year! I know, because I specifically placed that order myself. SOMEBODY’S NOT LISTENING!! I had all these plans of documenting the festivities of my birthday here in this blog.
Instead, I spent February 6, in bed, all hot and sweaty—and NOT in a good way--alone. From a recent post, you already know about me masking up for the airplane trips. I got home. A week goes by, no ailments nor infirmities. YAY me! YAY masks that made me look like a geek. You did your job. Last Monday at work, I was exhausted--just wiped out. Enough so, that I thought to myself, “When I go home tonight, I’m going to walk the dog, nuke some dinner, and crawl in bed.” This is so much NOT my SOP. My neck was really getting stiff on my right side. I didn’t make any connections. In the middle of the night, Monday night/Tuesday morning, I awaken with my right neck lymph gland swollen up like a goiter, with the left side trying to keep up. My throat feels like there’s a gangland rumble going on with switchblades and bowie knives as the weapons of choice. It hurts to swallow. It hurts to breathe. Every action sends a stabbing pain in my throat. Additionally, my whole body aches from head to toes. I have a low grade temp (99.2 F)I wait it out until 10:00 am, to call and try to get an appointment. with Dr. K, that day. They can get me in at 1:40.
He comes in. I tell him I feel like shit, and that I think he needs to do a throat culture. He quizzes me about when my last IgG infusion was (mid January). He looks at my throat and says, “I don’t need to do a culture. You have strep.” I argue with him that I cannot accept that diagnosis, as I’m not going to be sick this year on my birthday (tomorrow). Stupid body. Stupid throat. Fucking strep! CVID, I loathe you! My three month run without antibiotics, is about to end. As par usual, I get a shot in the ass, and put on orals (Z-Pack this time). For the next three days and nights, my temperature roller coasters between 99-103 F. I keep drenching the sheets.
Now, to the part of the story you’ve been waiting for. Thursday morning, I decide to take a steam shower, to see if I sweat out the rest of the toxics myself, and break this fever for good. Fifteen minutes taking a regular shower and the steam shower. I get out, dry off, and wrap the towel around me. I don’t put on the robe yet, as I’m still damp. I go to the kitchen, deciding that I want to make a protein smoothy, as I’ve not really eaten in 2 days. I’m standing at the counter, adding blueberries, banana, and orange to the Waring Blending. All of a sudden, I realize, that I need to sit or lie down. I start wobbling toward the bedroom. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor of the kitchen, naked, towel behind me, feeling really, really dizzy and a bit disoriented. I pull myself up, holding the wall and furniture, until I reach the bed. I call my neighbor, and ask her to check in on my in a bit, as I almost fainted. It was then I touched my forehead and pulled back a bloody hand. Blood wasn’t running down my face in rivulets like it did on the back side in this post http://randomthawghts.blogspot.com/2007/11/professor-plum-in-dining-room-with.html
I guess I must have passed out after all. I don’t remember hitting the floor, especially hitting it with my head. I’ve got a nice goose egg that’s now turning purplish-greenish-yellow (too bad it’s not closer to Easter) and nice bloody scab, dead-center just above my right eyebrow. It doesn’t throb, but hurts even if lightly touched. If it leaves a scar, I figure it can only enhance my butch factor. “Kitchen floor, you wanna piece of me?!” Who the hell am I kidding? You got a piece of me. Just out of spite, I’m NOT washing up the blood stain. This birthday totally sucked wad.
*Weird Ass Shit That Happens To Randy
© rle/wtf
WASTHTR*-2008, Vol 2
My birthday wasn’t supposed to suck this year! I know, because I specifically placed that order myself. SOMEBODY’S NOT LISTENING!! I had all these plans of documenting the festivities of my birthday here in this blog.
Instead, I spent February 6, in bed, all hot and sweaty—and NOT in a good way--alone. From a recent post, you already know about me masking up for the airplane trips. I got home. A week goes by, no ailments nor infirmities. YAY me! YAY masks that made me look like a geek. You did your job. Last Monday at work, I was exhausted--just wiped out. Enough so, that I thought to myself, “When I go home tonight, I’m going to walk the dog, nuke some dinner, and crawl in bed.” This is so much NOT my SOP. My neck was really getting stiff on my right side. I didn’t make any connections. In the middle of the night, Monday night/Tuesday morning, I awaken with my right neck lymph gland swollen up like a goiter, with the left side trying to keep up. My throat feels like there’s a gangland rumble going on with switchblades and bowie knives as the weapons of choice. It hurts to swallow. It hurts to breathe. Every action sends a stabbing pain in my throat. Additionally, my whole body aches from head to toes. I have a low grade temp (99.2 F)I wait it out until 10:00 am, to call and try to get an appointment. with Dr. K, that day. They can get me in at 1:40.
He comes in. I tell him I feel like shit, and that I think he needs to do a throat culture. He quizzes me about when my last IgG infusion was (mid January). He looks at my throat and says, “I don’t need to do a culture. You have strep.” I argue with him that I cannot accept that diagnosis, as I’m not going to be sick this year on my birthday (tomorrow). Stupid body. Stupid throat. Fucking strep! CVID, I loathe you! My three month run without antibiotics, is about to end. As par usual, I get a shot in the ass, and put on orals (Z-Pack this time). For the next three days and nights, my temperature roller coasters between 99-103 F. I keep drenching the sheets.
Now, to the part of the story you’ve been waiting for. Thursday morning, I decide to take a steam shower, to see if I sweat out the rest of the toxics myself, and break this fever for good. Fifteen minutes taking a regular shower and the steam shower. I get out, dry off, and wrap the towel around me. I don’t put on the robe yet, as I’m still damp. I go to the kitchen, deciding that I want to make a protein smoothy, as I’ve not really eaten in 2 days. I’m standing at the counter, adding blueberries, banana, and orange to the Waring Blending. All of a sudden, I realize, that I need to sit or lie down. I start wobbling toward the bedroom. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor of the kitchen, naked, towel behind me, feeling really, really dizzy and a bit disoriented. I pull myself up, holding the wall and furniture, until I reach the bed. I call my neighbor, and ask her to check in on my in a bit, as I almost fainted. It was then I touched my forehead and pulled back a bloody hand. Blood wasn’t running down my face in rivulets like it did on the back side in this post http://randomthawghts.blogspot.com/2007/11/professor-plum-in-dining-room-with.html
I guess I must have passed out after all. I don’t remember hitting the floor, especially hitting it with my head. I’ve got a nice goose egg that’s now turning purplish-greenish-yellow (too bad it’s not closer to Easter) and nice bloody scab, dead-center just above my right eyebrow. It doesn’t throb, but hurts even if lightly touched. If it leaves a scar, I figure it can only enhance my butch factor. “Kitchen floor, you wanna piece of me?!” Who the hell am I kidding? You got a piece of me. Just out of spite, I’m NOT washing up the blood stain. This birthday totally sucked wad.
*Weird Ass Shit That Happens To Randy
© rle/wtf
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Lone Ranger Flight Geek
Flying out to Orlando for this conference, it occurred to me for the first time that I am the flying equivalent of the pocket protector, medical taped horn rimmed glasses engineer. Last year when I attended this conference in Phoenix, I came home and proceeded to get the worst bronchial infection I’ve ever had to date. I’m certain that I got this infection from the plane trip home, with the recirculating air. I missed over 2 weeks of work; was borderline pneumonia; and almost put in the hospital. IT was the beginning of my year long on again-off again rounds of antibiotics. Not wishing to repeat this episode in 2008, I acquired some surgical masks from one of my docs, to wear. So, upon arriving at the airport, I masked up.
Additionally, the pressurization really screws with my ears. So, for a long time, I’ve purchased ‘ear planes’, which look like IUDs for the ear. It’s as I’m sitting, the plane is moving from the tarmack to runway for take off that I start to insert the aural devices, that it hits me, what a total geek I must look like. Now, on the plus side, people tend to ignore/avoid you. Since for reasons unbeknownst to me, I seem to be a freak magnet, this kept them at bay.
Once we landed and deplaned, I went to the bathroom in the airport (no Larry Craig antics), took off the mask and went down to collect the luggage. So far, so good. I’m tired, but because of the change in routine and the different pace one has at meetings/events like this. I’ll be masking up again for the trip home.
The trip home:
Well, so much for warding off the freaks. The shuttle that took me to the airport picked me up at 9:00 am. My flight wasn’t until 12:45pm. I arrive at the airport, mask up, get through TSA security and go to the gate. The gate area is crowded. I find an end seat next to some man, I would guess to be in my age co-hort, somewhere in his 40s. I open my backpack to get out my book to read.
“Have you ever read the Bible?”, says the man I just sat beside.
“Yes, I have.”, I respond as non-committally as possible, without looking at him, not wanting to encourage the continuance this conversation.
“It’s fortunate that you sat next to me. I’m just reading here in Acts about God’s healing powers. Are you a believer? Is Jesus Christ your personal lord and savior.?”
“No, I’m not and no he isn’t. I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”
“Jesus loves you and wants to heal you.”
“SIR, I’M NOT GOING TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU.”
He continued for a bit longer, without me taking the bait.
Had I not been tired, and had I felt like a good sparring match, I would have said,
“The reason I’m no longer a believer is because of people like you, who think it’s fully appropriate to approach a total stranger, wearing a face mask/barrier, make assumptions about what disease I may or may not have and think it’s your right to come and start proselytizing to me. And because I don’t believe exactly what you believe, I am somehow inferior. I have no use for that type of theology or god.” Had I really wanted to get his ire up, I would have introduced myself as a Sodomite fag.
Instead, I turned my back to him, and pretended to read my book. After a few minutes, he selected a new victim on the other side of him, who was more receptive (or perhaps, less direct) than I in rejecting him.
The mask, my fool-proof anti-polarity method of repelling the freaks has failed me! What does it take to keep me from being the freak magnet?! Tonto, I need your help.
Additionally, the pressurization really screws with my ears. So, for a long time, I’ve purchased ‘ear planes’, which look like IUDs for the ear. It’s as I’m sitting, the plane is moving from the tarmack to runway for take off that I start to insert the aural devices, that it hits me, what a total geek I must look like. Now, on the plus side, people tend to ignore/avoid you. Since for reasons unbeknownst to me, I seem to be a freak magnet, this kept them at bay.
Once we landed and deplaned, I went to the bathroom in the airport (no Larry Craig antics), took off the mask and went down to collect the luggage. So far, so good. I’m tired, but because of the change in routine and the different pace one has at meetings/events like this. I’ll be masking up again for the trip home.
The trip home:
Well, so much for warding off the freaks. The shuttle that took me to the airport picked me up at 9:00 am. My flight wasn’t until 12:45pm. I arrive at the airport, mask up, get through TSA security and go to the gate. The gate area is crowded. I find an end seat next to some man, I would guess to be in my age co-hort, somewhere in his 40s. I open my backpack to get out my book to read.
“Have you ever read the Bible?”, says the man I just sat beside.
“Yes, I have.”, I respond as non-committally as possible, without looking at him, not wanting to encourage the continuance this conversation.
“It’s fortunate that you sat next to me. I’m just reading here in Acts about God’s healing powers. Are you a believer? Is Jesus Christ your personal lord and savior.?”
“No, I’m not and no he isn’t. I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”
“Jesus loves you and wants to heal you.”
“SIR, I’M NOT GOING TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU.”
He continued for a bit longer, without me taking the bait.
Had I not been tired, and had I felt like a good sparring match, I would have said,
“The reason I’m no longer a believer is because of people like you, who think it’s fully appropriate to approach a total stranger, wearing a face mask/barrier, make assumptions about what disease I may or may not have and think it’s your right to come and start proselytizing to me. And because I don’t believe exactly what you believe, I am somehow inferior. I have no use for that type of theology or god.” Had I really wanted to get his ire up, I would have introduced myself as a Sodomite fag.
Instead, I turned my back to him, and pretended to read my book. After a few minutes, he selected a new victim on the other side of him, who was more receptive (or perhaps, less direct) than I in rejecting him.
The mask, my fool-proof anti-polarity method of repelling the freaks has failed me! What does it take to keep me from being the freak magnet?! Tonto, I need your help.
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