Archive for the ‘The Nonsense’ Category

There are a number of things that irritate me, that get under my skin, that annoy me. But there is one that I absolutely haven’t been able to get past lately.

I loathe, to no end, when people with access to health care are sick or in pain, with something that’s treatable, and do not seek treatment. Especially if they bitch about it.

And obviously, this is a little personal since I’ve had a headache for eleven months now, one that I’ve thrown EVERYTHING EVER at (including the new med which I haaaaate) and one that has not responded to anything. But it’s also just a common sense thing. If you’re sick or in pain and you have the ability to stop it, why on earth wouldn’t you?

I have two theories:
1) You love attention and whining and this is a great way to get and/or do that.
2) You love being miserable

And for the record, both of those are stupid. Yep, I said it, freaking stupid.

But what really REALLY gets under my skin is when you have a contagious disease, a contagious disease that is TREATABLE, that your insurance will cover at no cost, and you choose to not treat it. And when you have said disease and then you call and complain about it. Because WOE IS YOU, you’re still sick. Well no shit. OF COURSE you are. You didn’t treat a treatable condition, most of these don’t go away with fairy dust and friendly thoughts.

GAH.

In the course of the past year, I have met and corresponded with individuals with chronic pain, with chronic diseases, with psychological problems that are, at best, really freaking hard to deal with and harder to treat, all of who would kill to trade places with most people. There are hundreds of thousands of people who are suffering, who would give all the world for a pill, for a prescription, for a quick fix that would stop everything. There are people with conditions that may be treatable who don’t have access to healthcare and must suffer for it.

And then there are people who have no idea how lucky they are. Who refuse to take a medication that will stop the pain and the germs and the ugliness, people who would rather lie around, miserable and complaining, than use the resources they are blessed to have.

And sure, I think everyone of us is guilty of this to a certain extent. I’m married to a doctor who won’t take an Aleve for a headache unless I nag him. My mother has migraines, but won’t take her migraine meds until she’s absolutely sure that no other thing could possibly be the cause of what is obvious to the rest of us as a migraine. I get hesitancy, I really do. I always hesitate trying a new drug until I’m aware of the side effects and what to be watchful of. That kind of hesitancy makes sense to me.

But waiting days, weeks, even for a treatment that you know will work, that doctors have told you will work, that may very well save your freaking life without side effects is just stupid. I’m sorry it is. I’m not talking about chemotherapy and radiation, I’m not talking about medication that will make you violently ill, I’m talking about a simple prescription whose side effects aren’t even half as bad as the condition they’re treating, if that. A simple prescription that is affordable and easy to get.

I’m talking about wasting health care opportunities. I’m talking about ignoring a cure when there are so many people who would kill for one.

So next time you have a headache or a backache that will respond to Advil, take one unless you have a really good reason not to. Next time you have a sinus infection or step throat that will respond to antibiotics you can afford, take them.

And if you won’t, if you CHOOSE misery over health, then please have the common curtesy to not call repeatedly to complain about how horrible things are when you’ve made no attempt to help them. Because you may not realize that the person on the other end of the line spent the last 11 months wishing, praying and hoping for a pill that would fix things for her, too.

So, I’m leaving tomorrow morning to spend four days in Utah for a really cool blogging conference. And so I thought now was a good time to update a few new things about me, just to give you a glimpse as to why I act the way I do.

Or to explain what the hell is wrong with that weird girl who gave you the business card with the MRI and big black sharpie mark.

I live in Southern California, nearish to Los Angeles, but in a much less glamorous area. No one famous lives near me, unless you consider college students famous, in which case, you’re crazy.

I’m married to a doctor and am a full time graduate student in the health field. I can give you medical advice, but don’t expect it to be good and if you sue me, I’ll deny ever giving it to you in the first place. Oh, and spoiler alert? My advice is either to ice it or call your doctor. You’re welcome.

I’m staying in a hotel suite with 6 other women and 3 babies. That estrogen smell is me.

I have had a headache since last August. For whatever reason, this week has been an especially bad one. If I look like crap, you need not point it out. Trust me, I’m aware.

I only brought 3 pairs of shoes. I’d like a trophy for this. Even though none of them are more substantial than flip flops.

I brought pretzel and coconut m&ms. Be nice to me and you can have some.

If you see me taking a picture in your direction, don’t worry. Chances are I haven’t taken the lens cap off, or I focused on the bug in the middle of the sky instead of anything I might actually want to document. I’m an excellent photographer, clearly.

I tend to be pretty quiet when I don’t know anyone. I’m not standoff-ish, just super super awkward. You’ll see.

I know all the presidents in order. This has nothing to do with the conference, I just thought you should know.

I don’t really drink alcohol much. It’s really a combination of two things. First, I drank A LOT in college and it’s going to take more than 5 years to forget those hangovers. And second, it tends to make my already crazy screwed up brain, even more crazy screwed up. So if you see me with a drink, keep an eye on me. I’m likely to be entertaining. Or a disaster. Either way, totally fun to watch.

I don’t attach my last name, my husband’s name, or what I’m studying in school to my blog. If I disclose any of these to you (particularly while drunk), please don’t share them.

If I’m smiling a little bigger on Saturday, it may be because my mother in law is at my apartment. And I’m not.

Me: So, that song was originally from The Wizard of Oz, right?

Husband: What song?

Me: The rainbow one.

Husband: You mean Somewhere Over the Rainbow?

Me: That’s what I said, the rainbow one. From the movie I never saw.

Husband: …

Me: I think that was my Grandpa’s favorite song. But maybe not. His was something about a wonderful world.

Husband: You mean What a Wonderful World?

Me: No I think it’s this one. You know, “somewhere over the rainbow way up high, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world?”

Husband: That’s not a song.

Me: Whatever, it’s a mash-up. It would be epic.

Husband: I’m pretty sure it’s time for you to take a Glee break.

I have plenty of things to write about tonight, I really do, but none are things that I feel like tackling right now. None are things I want to deal with or put words to, or try to be funny about.

Because tonight is about not caring. And so I thought tonight instead of writing, I’d show you something. Some things, actually.

The things that keep me going.

Not pictured: all of you.

So, what keeps you going?

I get a lot of emails from people who read here explaining why they don’t comment. Many of you have told me that you just don’t know what to say sometimes, and I get that. I read a lot of sites that I don’t comment on. Sometimes it’s because what I’ve read leaves me speechless (I somehow doubt that’s ever the problem here, heh) and sometimes it’s because I don’t have words that can help, or that even can make a dent on what I’ve read.

I’m the first to admit that it’s hard to know what to say to someone who’s going through tough times, even when you’re going through them yourself.

And so I sat down and tried to come up with suggestions of things to say (though I certainly never require comments), and honestly I can’t come up any. Because, dudes, it’s difficult, I totally get it. So I’m going to take the other route.

These are the things you really shouldn’t say to someone with a chronic disease, pain, or frankly anyone. It’s also known as the list of things that people say that make me want to smother them with a pillow full of nails:

1. “You look like crap today.” A friend of a friend said this to me a few weeks ago, and I need you to be impressed with the fact that I didn’t smack the crap out of her. I almost feel like I shouldn’t even have to write this one out. Frankly, it’s NEVER nice to tell someone they look like crap, even if they do. And understand that if I look like crap, I probably feel 10 times worse than I look. In general, I’m pretty decent at hiding my pain, so when I can’t, I’m miserable. Telling me I look that way is DOING IT WRONG.

2. “You look fine, it can’t hurt that much.” Really? Because judging by your face, you must be in a ton of pain. Or at least, everyone around you is.

3. “It could be worse, have you heard about so-and-so?” I see the need for perspective, I really do. Perspective is important, not just for people who are chronically ill, but frankly, for everyone. And please understand that I feel for anyone who experiences pain, whether mental, physical or emotional. But that said, hearing that someone else is in pain, or has a life situation that’s worse than mine, doesn’t change my pain. It’s like if you were just run over by a car and I said, well, it could be worse, have you heard about Joe? He was run over by TWO cars. I’m sure you’d feel better right away.

4. “You just need more sleep.” Of course I do. Who doesn’t? But my head doesn’t hurt for lack of sleep. I’ve had weeks of vacation where I’ve gotten as much sleep as I could possibly ever get, weeks that were completely devoid of stress, and yet, were still filled to the damned brim with pain. I got 10 (crappy, interrupted) hours of sleep last night and as I write this I am miserable. My head doesn’t hurt because of lack of sleep. But my ability to cope with it does, so don’t be a jackass today. It won’t end well for you.

5. “If you’re in so much pain, why did you do x, y, or z?” This one bugs the bejeezus out of me. First, the tone says that you think I’m lying about pain. And being called a liar is one of my favorite things. Recently I have gotten crap from a number of people for going on vacations. And I’m completely perplexed by this. I have chronic pain and therefore I shouldn’t get to go on vacations? I don’t deserve to relax? I mean really. But it’s not just vacations. My head hurts all the time, but I am still going to go out to dinner, I’m going to go to a concert next week, I’m going to do anything I can manage. Is it stupid? Probably. But having chronic pain doesn’t mean I can’t strive for normalcy.

6. “Maybe if you didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” Sigh. Let’s do an experiment. Go grab the biggest hammer you can find. Take a full swing and slam it down on your big toe. Now, don’t think about the pain. That should make it all better.

7. “Maybe it’s all in your head.” Maybe it is. And maybe next time you get a cold or the flu, you should see a psychologist before any other physician. Even if this pain is all in my head, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

8. “My mom/aunt/cousin/dog has headaches and they don’t have to miss school/work.” More power to them, really. I greatly admire people who deal with pain better than me. I wish I didn’t have to miss school, I wish I could cope better, I wish I had less to complain about or was more able to dial back the whining. If you think I get pleasure out of whining, you’re wrong. But sometimes I need to know I’m not alone and sometimes I just need to acknowledge how bad things get. I know it’s not very peasant for everyone else.

9. “It’ll probably get better when you stop going to doctors, that always happens.” Yep. There’s obviously a direct correlation between headaches and time at doctor’s offices. They have been shown to cause low pressure in most patients. OR NOT.

10. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” It’s true that I have had more than my share of health problems. It’s true that the list of symptoms is long. But this particular comment is the absolute worst. Even when said in jest, it makes me really upset. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but it makes it seem like I am choosing this, like I have control over this. And if I haven’t yet made it clear, I am so profoundly out of control in all of this, that it’s driving me literally near to crazy. Okay fine, way past crazy. Whatever.

But the more I think about all of this, the more that I think about all the nice things that have been said the more I realize that the very best thing that anyone can do or say, is just be here. Is to just let me know that I have someone to rely on, someone who cares. You don’t ever have to say exactly the right thing, hell, you don’t even have to say anything at all, just be here.

And not telling me I look like crap. That one’s pretty important too.

So, if you haven’t noticed already, posting is going to be SUPER light this week. I had two final exams today and I have one Thursday, one HUGE one Friday, one Monday, two Tuesday and one Wednesday. And probably a blood patch Thursday. I know. You wish you were me.

While I’m not really blogging here, I am having my blog posts aired other places all week. Right now one of my favorites is up at the Chronic Babe edition of Patients for a Moment. It’s a pretty cool thing for health bloggers to display some of their writing and this time is about funny experiences, so it’s definitely worth a few minutes of your time (and also? if you have a chronic disease and aren’t on Chronic Babe? You’re crazy. Just sayin’).

And on Friday I’ll be back with another super exciting announcement regarding my blog appearing everywhere except, you know, here.

Heh.

Hope you’re all having a good week.

I stumbled across someone’s twitter page the other day, I have no idea how I found it, but it was a father whose son had been diagnosed with type I diabetes. He had tweeted repeatedly that while they were seeking medical treatment, what they were really waiting for was God to heal his son. He believed that miracles not only happen, but that one was absolutely going to happen to his son.

The tweets sort of caught me off guard. And before long I began to realize that as terrible as it sounds, what frightened me the most was the realization that, deep down, I do not believe in miracles.

I’m not sure when I reached this point of cynicism, but I’m clearly there. I believe that people can make amazing come backs in terms of health and impending disasters, and I think that there are things that modern medicine cannot always explain, but I do not believe that miracles happen every day, if at all.

I don’t think that this man’s son is going to be healed of diabetes because he’s praying for it. I don’t believe that a deaf man at a concert accepted Christ and suddenly had hearing again. I just don’t.

I think that miracles, if there are any, are few and far between. I think they don’t happen simply because you wish and hope that one will, or that you pray endlessly for it. If that was the case, how many miracles would’ve been performed this year? How many children would’ve been spared disease and death? How many families would’ve been spared suffering and sadness?

It can’t be as simple as prayer.

Too many children and husbands and wives die in the midst of storms of prayers for it to simply be an issue of prayer. Too many natural disasters take too many lives. Too many good, faithful, righteous people die for it simply to be a matter of faith.

I guess I don’t understand how there can be miracles when good people suffer and die. I can’t believe in miracles in healing when so many people don’t get that. I can’t trust that there’s a heavenly fix when so many need it and so few receive it.

It’s not that I don’t think that prayer isn’t powerful (it is) or that there isn’t a God (I believe there is), I just don’t think that there are miracles. I think that there are logical explanations for much of what happens in life, I think that expecting prayer to heal a child with diabetes is crazy. I think that hoping for miracles sets you up for a lifetime of disappointment and perhaps I’ve reached the point where I can’t handle that disappointment any longer.

In a way, miracles feel like Santa Claus to me. There something that you’re taught to believe in as a child. That if you believe in something long enough and hard enough, it will come true. But as you grow up you realize that it was fantasy. You can’t make something happen just because you believe in it, you can’t get what you want or what you need simply by praying long enough and hard enough for it.

And there’s something completely terrifying about that realization. There’s no make believe, there’s no magical fix, there’s no 11th hour hail mary pass to save the day.

There’s life.

There are the highest highs, the lowest lows and everything in between.

And all we can do is survive the hard parts and celebrate the easy ones. And learn from these experiences, challenges and triumphs. So that next time they won’t surprise or scare us. So that next time we can look to reality instead of fantasy to find hope for tomorrow.

I spent the weekend in a gorgeous house in Oceanside. It was my husband’s intern retreat, which meant it was sort of required, but still very nice, and about 20 of his coworkers and their spouses were there as well.

As you can imagine and would expect in any house with 20 people, there were moments of drama, but overall, the weekend was a lot of fun. And being able to see the ocean from the bedroom window didn’t suck either.

What did suck was waking up in said gorgeous house with those 20 people who were trying to clean up and get out on time and feeling like I was going to hurl. And not just my normal always feeling like I am going to hurl. It was the kind of feeling like I was going to hurl that didn’t respond to any of the 3 different anti-emetics I threw at it.

It helped that the 20 people were frying up hashbrowns in the kitchen attached to our room. Nothing like the smell of greasy food to help settle a queasy stomach.

The 90 minute drive home was also a peach. Particularly when I realized that it wasn’t just my stomach, but I had a headache (not my normal) and what felt alarmingly like a fever. I rarely get fevers, when I do they aren’t very high (my normal temp is 97.7) but they always knock me on my ass.

By the time we got home, an hour after tylenol, the fever was over 100 and despite the fact that I never take naps on Sunday, I took a 2 hour nap. And woke up feeling exactly as bad as before.

I am sick and whiny and I want my mom.

And as much as I want to write about stuff that’s going on and everything else you’ve been waiting with baited breath to hear about, my brain is mush right now and I’ve got, at best, 10 more non-whiny words left.

So perhaps tomorrow. Unless the fever doesn’t break, in which case, there will be much whiiiiiiiiiiiiiining. Get excited.

It is somewhat widely known that I am a tremendous smart ass. I enjoy plays on words, I say “that’s what she said” waaaay too often and some most of my knee jerk reactions are snarky ones. I can’t help it. I was raised on sarcasm. I then married it and will give the gift of it to my kids.

You’re all welcome.

But what you may not know is that for every bit as snarky as I am, I’m also overly apologetic.

It’s like I’m Canadian.

Case in point: Twitter. It one of my best forums for snark. I can dish it, I can take it, but in the end, I have to apologize. I always worry that in one of the jokes that seemed harmless, I’ve said something offensive, and especially if the person doesn’t respond after a comment that I think is borderline, I freak out. My preferred method of apologizing is direct messaging, but sometimes I’ll do it on the main twitter stream.

I do it in real life too. If I think there’s ANY chance I’ve crossed even a tiny line, I apologize. If I tell a joke or when joking around call someone a name, I always apologize. When my husband and I get into a fight, I almost always find something to apologize for, even when it’s totally his fault. When I get into a heated, but civil, political conversation, I apologize, even if I haven’t done anything but politely stated my opinion.

I. can’t. help. myself.

It all really boils down to a greater fear of imperfection and of hurting other people, but what it ends up looking like is that I’m basically just a big apology whore. Or apology addict. Or apology monger. However you want to see it, I have an addiction to apologizing.

I think it borders on compulsion. If I’m being honest I really want to apologize for the Canadian joke at the beginning of this post because I’m afraid I’ve offended the Canadians. I wish I was kidding.

I even revised my position on poutin (don’t google it, GAG) this morning on twitter because I originally said it was gross and was afraid that was too harsh. Revising, one step up from apologizing, just in case you were keeping track.

I have no idea what’s wrong with me. But I’m thinking that there are worse additions to have.

I mean, I could be addicted to never apologizing. And then I’d be a man! (Sigh. Sorry to all the men. That was harsh.) I could be addicted to apologizing and never meaning it. And then I’d be my douchebag ex-boyfriend! (Again, sorry. Even though he is a douchebag.)

Above all else, know that if I have offended you and not apologized, it’s probably because I haven’t realized it yet, or I’m in the process of finding a way to make a proper apology. Or possibly, it’s because you’re an asshole and I’m not actually sorry. One of those is probably what’s going on.

(Sorry for calling you an asshole. Unless you are. And then I’m only a little sorry because name calling isn’t really very nice. Even if I am calling you what you are.)

On Thursday, I went to the eye doctor. It had been more than a year and I had just begun to notice that I spent an inordinate amount of time squinting, both while reading and while out in the sun. So I bit the bullet and made the appointment.

They did the puff of air in the eye (I HATE that. I can’t explain why, but I hate it on a visceral level), the star wars vision fields test and finally had the exam with the optometrist. I’m farsighted like both of my parents (had glasses/contacts since age 11), and it’s always a struggle to find a way to correct my farsightedness without eliminating my distance vision. And true to form, this visit was no exception.

She decided that I needed two separate pairs of glasses- progressive lenses (hello, I’m 80 years old) for normal wear and some stronger prescriptions for computer and reading stuff. My wallet, it weeps.

And when she looked at my eyes under lights and later after they were dilated, she saw that I have one largish and one small freckle INSIDE my eyes. I’ve known about them for a while, but hey, fun fact, freckles in your eyes are really great at becoming melanoma, so we had to take a picture of it and measure it, so that it can be compared. She said that for now, they’ll check it every year. If it shows signs of growth, we can re-evaluate then.

When it was all said and done, I ended up with a set of progressives (in new frames, which, if I’m being honest look remarkably like the old ones), computer glasses (which will be in the old frames, just new lenses) and prescription sunglasses because there’s some evidence that they can reduce the melanoma risk. And of course, crazy dilated pupils that lasted for hours.

And because new glasses weren’t enough of a change, I decided that it was time for a haircut. I got my hair trimmed in July and December of last year, but prior to that, I can’t remember the last time I had a cut. And while I sort of enjoyed the long hair, it was in a wet bun 99% of the time and on the days I did want to do it, it required SO much time to blow dry and straighten.

So on Saturday I went from this (this is unstraightened, which I never really do):

To this (mind the self-portrait double chin):

I love it. It does still go back into a pony tail (that was a requirement), but it’s lighter, it’s easier and I was able to blow dry and straighten it in less then 25 minutes today, so that’s a win.

And now that I’ve gotten all of the exterior stuff upgraded, I’m hoping and praying that Wednesday’s blood patches (more on that tomorrow, I’m sure) will start some change on the inside too.

One can hope.