Closer To Fine: Five Bad Days, Worst $23 Bucks I've Ever Spent, Being Right Never Gets Old

I've been complaining about my Thyroid issues. Hopefully this is the last rant for awhile. So, when getting all this blood drawn they find out I'm more or less defective. Kidding; but my thyroid levels are off, which can lead to bigger problems down the road. My symptoms were pretty benign and manage-able in my opinion, but what do I know? I've only had this body for 34 years.

For whatever reasons I have a rough time with medicine, hospitals and healthcare. Not on a political level, just in general. Maybe it was growing up visiting retirement homes with my Pastor Father, ill patients here and there and my mother being a grief counselor with Hospice, but I just associated sickness and death with all things medical for a very long time. 

Having spent my most formative years in Oregon where natural and homeopathic options are easier to get than anything else, that was always the first option. I remember for menstrual cramps my sister had me on all these herbs and tinctures. It was a pain in the ass but they worked! For me, western medicine was always a last resort and my body always seemed to have more intense reactions to it than most.

The thyroid thing didn't seem important to me. I had a friend suffering the same thing and she had intense symptoms. Mine were pretty standard and not severe at all. They said they could get me on meds after my May blood draw came back worse. Ironically this was after I'd done the dietary suggestions, cutting out most of my go to and comfort foods (spinach, veggie pasta, brussel sprouts, pizza and kale), and it made no difference, it actually just made me more miserable. 

I noticed some slight weight gain and since I work out a minimum of 5 days a week at 30 minutes a pop, while I don't need to win a beauty pageant, I'd rather maintain than gain. So I said fine, we'll give western medicine a go. My friend said the synthetic thyroid one messed with her sleep so she changed to the natural one and has done much better.

When I called my doctor I said, "Well I want to be on the natural one." The first name they threw out wasn't the one my friend was on. I said, "No I think it's just called like, Nature Thyroid?" They diverted back to, "We'll start you on this one." The prescription sat for two days as I still had seriously mixed feelings.

I very much am coined as a drama queen about medical and prescription stuff because I've always had very rough reactions. Everyone acts like I'm just overstating because I'm not actually allergic to anything, so to speak. My husband was encouragingly saying, "They will take an adjustment but it's a good step and it will make a difference."

Let me just say, he wasn't wrong. The first day I felt so confident and was like, "Yeah this is going to make me feel less tired and be more healthy!" Day one ended with the worst migraine I have had in a decade to the point where I couldn't lift my head off the pillow and slept for 11 hours straight with the help of my old friend, "Excedrin PM." Day two I was a little nauseated and foggy. Day 3 was the first morning it was taking it's toll. I had a low grade fever, serious chills and couldn't get enough water. It was like that scene in Me, Myself and Irene where the medication gave him insane cottonmouth:

 

The nausea was rough as I'm a puker as it is meaning, at the slightest bit of anything being off in my body, I'm vomiting. My appetite was numb almost and I felt this spacey, body high but not the good kind where you're having fun. Days 4 and 5 were killer, just out of this world discomfort with low fever, aches, weird, intense joint pain and my husband said my sleep was just not well at all. I had no feeling of being asleep or awake and was relying on Excedrin PM to help the pain every night.

Yesterday I called my doctor and they have yet to return that call. I tried to talk myself around it. I tried to rationalize and tell my body to suck it up but I was like...this isn't getting better, it's actually getting worse and I just can't live like this. I had to cancel moms night out plans because I was so afraid I'd puke wine on the bar if we went out.

I made the executive decision to stop taking them. In my optimism I had gotten 90 days worth of meds and dropped $23 bucks on that stupid prescription that I'll never see again but today, without the pill, the difference is already huge. There's a disappointed sadness in me that I wasn't heard by the doctor and also, that I let everyone talk me into something I was unsure about it, but at least today I can feel that without being sick on top of it.

This morning I skipped a workout and snuggled my daughter and husband, oh and the dog too. I enjoyed a cup of coffee for the first time in a week, and I don't feel like I'm completely ill. Don't get me wrong, I have some residual but much lighter nausea, I had a brief dizzy spell this morning and I'm still quite thirsty but I can think better, I feel less foggy and my joints don't hurt. For me it's a step in the right direction.

When I was my most sick yesterday, it was after I made myself a glorious cup of green ginger tea and then immediately felt like I was going to puke repeatedly so I stuffed down some bland mac and cheese leftovers from a failed dinner out, to calm my stomach, that I realized...okay I don't care about the weight gain, nothing is worth this discomfort. Next weekend is a big weekend in my life, and we have important plans. This weekend we have important plans too and I just couldn't picture feeling this ill through it all. I decided, no more, I won't live like this.

I Googled over and over again the Levoxothyroxine or something or other side effects. I had like 6 of 9 under the "Call your doctor if" column. I kept trying to rationalize the sickness blaming allergies or anxiety or my daughter having a cough but today is my affirmation it was the pills and not me. My joints don't hurt. I'm aware and awake instead of more tired and frail. Yesterday I even stared in the mirror for a minute and just felt like I looked, pale and uncomfortable. Today I might snap a selfie!

While I'm happy I tried it, I still have this overwhelming grief of how it all went down. I have diagnosed Anxiety and Depression, which are two of the side effects of the thyroid meds. To manage those with therapy and in daily life, I have many tools but my nervousness and anxiousness just were so un-manage-able with that medicine. I wish I was taken more seriously but I also need to stand up for myself. I really do, and this was quite the rough lesson in that. 

I really wish I didn't lose out on that $23 bucks, which I know sounds dumb but come on, that's half a tank of gas or a nice lunch out! The lesson is I have to be my own advocate and stand up tall about what's right for me, no matter how short I am. The truth is, I know my body the absolute best and no one can tell me otherwise. There was a part of me that hoped I'd be wrong and I'd be fine or that it would only have positive effects but I have no control of that. Being right never does get old, does it?

Today I am closer to fine. I feel so happy I'm almost back to myself. By next weekend when I take some much needed time away, I'm sure I'll be back to manage-able me and sorry, not sorry that being out of my comfort zone this time around, was not worth hurting my body. I even feel like my posts were foggy and I was so uncomfortable I couldn't even proof-read much because I was so frenzied! I'm glad to feel almost Alison again.

The Side Effects Of Attempting To Be Health-Conscious

Maybe I spent too many years around hippies. Maybe I spent too long on crazy diets and hating my body. Maybe I am just a stubborn woman, but last week I hit my max and I opted for western medicine. Today I'm struggling with the side effects.

In attempts of adulting we are low-grade insured but insured regardless. So we went and got physicals and blood draws. My 3 draws over the past 9 months kept returning worse and worse levels of thyroid stuff meaning I have an under-active thyroid. When I Googled this, turns out I had like 10 out of 13 symptoms. None of these symptoms felt, un-manageable to me. I have a hard time losing weight but lots of people do. I'm always tired but I'm a mom who works full time. I have dry skin and hair because, well sometimes that's par for the course, right?

When I switched workout routines in no way did I expect some miracle weight loss. I'm not dieting nor do I believe in crazy diets anyway anymore, but my diet hasn't changed and I've gained some weight. I work out 30 minutes 5 or 6 times a week, I haven't been eating in excess or changed my normal regime and I've gained...for no apparent reason. Not okay for me.

My last bad blood test finally brought up the idea of medication to which I said we could wait for, but with this whole weight gain thing, enough was enough. I decided to get the prescription. I have a friend who recently started treating her thyroid stuff too and she gave me lots of good resources and advice. So Saturday I started the medicine.

I have to take it at the same time daily and I can't eat food or drink coffee for an hour after having the medicine. This part wasn't difficult for me. I'm up at 5AM five days a week to workout, and if I take it around then, by the time I get home from the gym, make my lunch, make the coffee, and make breakfast, that's well after an hour. I was told the common side effect is it messing with your sleep. Unfortunately I've had other fun side effects instead.

This is day 4. Day one ended with a nasty migraine and nausea. Day two was okay but I had a lot of rest. Yesterday I had intense dry mouth, thirst and nausea. I also felt really spacey and had fluctuations in hot and cold. Today is much more nausea, intense thirst and dry mouth again, spacey and hot flashes among general discomfort. I'm told this is all trial and error but are we there yet?

I know I have to be patient, but boy is it rough. I'm not good at feeling "off." I'm not good at feeling "less than" or not capable of all things normal but I hope to push through. It's ironic that feeling all of this is supposed to get me healthier. I'm having to remind myself of the greater good, the big picture and one day at a time. Some moments are easier than others.

I've never really taken anything besides prenatal vitamins that were prescribed and it's definitely a journey. I'm drinking so much water I swear I'm in the bathroom once an hour and it takes me most of the morning to get over the spacey feeling. I definitely need a good night's sleep tonight too.

I think my mental struggle is that thyroid issues can cause heart problems so I don't want to mess around there, but unless I start to generally feel better, am I actually being health conscious with all of this? That's where I'm having a rough time.

Temporary. Everything is temporary. These reminders are crucial right now and I carry them with me. So I ask all of you to be a little patient with the blog as I'm not on my usual game right now but am here if you all want to reach out to me for story ideas and suggestions. Happy Tuesday!

Me As a Mom Part Two

Yesterday we journeyed into Luna's entrance into the world and before we go into my feelings of immediately failing motherhood, I just want to say...I was just on Amazon looking for "Tooth Fairy Kits" because my child is so tense about her loose tooth coming out and it's driving me insane. I can see the other one coming in behind it. Do all parents go through this?

And that's where we can start. Do all parents go through this? We ask ourselves that DAILY, don't we? No, let's be honest now...it may even be HOURLY. Because we have these epic parallels don't we? "Every child is different and unique." "What works for one won't work for everyone." It can all be overwhelming.

I got everything all at once it felt, which is probably a common feeling. One of my oldest and closest family friends became a dad of twins long before I got pregnant and I quote him often when he said to me, "Man, I thought I was tired before." Babies are tough. Period. And disclaimer, I loved sleep BEFORE I was pregnant. Huge difference between 6 hours of sleep Alison and 9 hours of sleep Alison. And now, sleep is my favorite hobby.

During my therapy in college for my anxiety and depression, one thing that was made very clear to me was the importance of sleep as self care and that getting the right amount has everything to do with my depressive feelings and anxiety levels. Now I knew infants would require my all but let me explain something...I was very much a mess and I thought I had the support I needed. Turns out I had no idea what kind of support I needed.

Everything after the birth was a blur. Then and now. Visitors and everything. And the way it is portrayed in television and movies? Bullshit by the way. I remember the sweet moments of some of my favorite people holding her and meeting her. One of my favorite co-workers at the time, who has since grown into this incredible woman with a step daughter of her own, held Luna and just looked at her and said, "Oh, wow...she's so REAL!" She wanted to hear every moment of the birth story immediately.

One thing I remember vividly is that I was obsessed with this idea of skin to skin but also am always the coldest person on the planet. I had the robe and stuff and the socks but was still freezing. I also wanted to immediately stick her on my boob which is where she would stay for 2 years. I was going to breastfeed. There was no other plan.

I thought I did okay her first day, but before I knew it I had so many people in my face and in my ear talking about how to hold her, "Put her here, she has to do this" and I was just so exhausted. Hello? I just had a baby. Again, in a haze and I thought things were okay.

I'd asked for a Lactation consultant because again, breastfeeding was my only plan. All of the sudden a surly nurse was telling me to "Sit up, move this way, put her here." I remember being so uncomfortable and just wanting to find a way that worked for me to not hurt. Then the nurse started barking at me about inverted nipples, which I read a lot about, and I was just tired enough to be offended and cranky. It's COLD in here I thought, and come on! She shoved a nipple shield on me with little direction and then was gone, while again, I sat in this twisted position just trying to get Luna and I to get breastfeeding going.

It's six years later I still look back on everything with tears. Even as I type, I cry because...I had no close friends that were mothers. My dad had me at an older age and clearly didn't breast feed. My mom breast fed but wasn't one to talk about how it actually was and the few mothers I could talk to ended up with formula. If I'm being brutally honest, now with serious reflection, there were definitely home and life circumstances that didn't help my chances to succeed either, but that may very well turn into a book later. Stay tuned!

Back to baby. We got home. My dad did laundry constantly. My husband cooked way too much food. I thought I was breastfeeding okay. I remember now a few times saying, "If she wasn't getting enough, she'd be miserable right? Like, if I was that horrible of a mom she'd tell me, right?" 

Breastfeeding hurt. Badly. Not because I had thrush or clogged ducts or any of the things that scare you in the books. Turns out Luna was a lazy nurser and I had not the best hold. Breastfeeding started to hurt me so much I would lock Luna and I in my room and cry and drink water and suck on hard candies and repeat until she was done. I didn't leave the house for fear of breastfeeding in public and would only let visitors come after she'd been fed. I was just about to call La Leche League for support because the only thing that helped was a nipple shield my husband got at Wal-Mart, and I didn't think she was getting enough but was also completely exhausted with a house guest arrival looming. We went in for her two week appointment, where I thought I could talk to someone, and they didn't have us on the books, didn't care and pushed it another week. This was when everything changed. That last week before the appointment was horrible and the pushed back appointment made everything worse.

At 3 weeks old Luna was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive," which means she was losing weight, not gaining. Again, I still cry when I think about this and while some people have never heard of failure to thrive, for me, it was just a diagnosis of "Failure to Mom." We went from the pediatric office to the hospital because we needed to supplement with formula and get her weight up ASAP. They also wanted to test her for other reasons beside bad mothering that she might not be gaining. It was horrible waiting to get into a room and calling family members and repeating that "Failure" word over and over.

When we got in the room, for whatever reason Luna and I were completely alone with doctors and nurses and I just remember sitting, being freezing and crying while I heard "Oh it's not your fault, what formula should we try and we have to put in a feeding tube, you can start pumping and we'll do this and as soon as this and the doctor and..." It was a whirlwind of emotions drowned in tears. 

Enter the nurse I met at Massage Envy just over a month ago; she recognized me and looked sad. She said sweetly, "I meant it when I said I hoped I'd never see you. But congrats. She's beautiful and a little fighter, I can tell." She and one other nurse became my quick favorites and lifelines during our stay. 

It broke my heart that I couldn't breastfeed her and she still had to have formula. It STILL breaks my heart and brings me to tears. Now, plenty of people have had healthy babies with formula and I'm not judging ANYONE who chose that, but as a mother and parent you probably understand that when it's not part of your plan, it certainly throws a wrench in things. The postpartum hit me the hardest here, while stuck in the hospital. 

Luna and I were alone for 8 out of the 10 days with the exception of my best friend at the time who came daily to bring me a Starbucks, Chik-Fil-A, or just to hold the baby so I could shower. We were in a room that was shared with 4 other families of varying baby ages and illness and injury. There was a communal shower on the floor and exhausted parents would shuffle around in and out of common areas and the nurses station. It took me 5 days to realize I could leave Luna with the nurses for 10 minutes to get Starbucks downstairs instead of the shitty cafeteria coffee.

My oldest half sister had offered to come help. After 10 days in a hospital fighting with a mean doctor who didn't know how badly I needed to be out of this environment to get my daughter and I well, I was afraid maybe the doctors were right...if I went home alone with Luna maybe I'd just fail again. 

It was 10 days of pumping and supplementing with tests and blood draws and hospital food. When they put the feeding tube in her first day, I cried and curled into a ball. Luna ripped it out herself on the end of the second day and breast fed and bottle fed afterwards as if to say, I got this. I just couldn't give up on breastfeeding. I refused.

I remember being so distraught and I had one low moment, and one moment of resolution looking back. In all of this my husband, with good intentions I hope, said, "Some women can't breast feed, and that's okay. Maybe you just can't!" It was then I quoted Rachel from Friends and said with hatred, "No uterus, no opinion." It was my dad who calmly said, "Sweetheart you have been with that baby 24/7 and all you do is look at her and love her. you couldn't possibly notice her losing weight like that and this is not your fault." This is why my dad still is my calming force.

My sister ended up flying in the day before we were discharged and came to the room. She looked at me in terror and said, "When was the last time you were outside? You're pale enough as it is but now your skin matches the walls!" She commanded my husband to hold the baby and took me outside for the first natural air and sunlight I'd seen in over a week. She got home with me, held the baby lots, and had infinite patience in making sure I felt motherly again.

Luna bounced back after what will live in infamy as my own personal "hell week." Reflecting on this will always completely break me in every way, but I like to share because I think we don't get enough support easily available for new mothers, no matter WHAT YOUR PLAN. Maybe I didn't know where or how to look, but I regret being afraid, feeling completely ashamed and not asking for MORE help. And any mother reading this who has gone through or is going through something similar, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out if you need a shoulder. 

Needless to say we've never had any food issues since the,n and she continues to be one of the healthiest kids I know, but for such a rocky start, and as a mom who knows she still has bad days and crappy ways of parenting, I return to this story often as a reflection for just how far we've come in every way. 

An Unfairish Life: The Bitter Diatribe of a Working Class Family

Just a warning, some of this may border on ranting but let’s just get it all out in the open.

Now I like to think of myself as traditionally untraditional, meaning we take a little bit of morality, ethics, and ideals, and mash them into what works for us. By nature, I’m a very cynical, sarcastic and outgoing being. My father forced me into optimism. Every time people screwed me over he kept reminding me that faith in the human race is worth it after all.

Now I don’t want to say certain things are “right” and others “wrong” but there is a societal and social order in which things are more easily accepted. I chose to follow that order and it came as such: Date some boys, play some games, find the one you can make it work with, move in together to test the last-ability, get engaged, graduate school, get married and have babies.

We live in a universe where families of all shapes, sizes, makes and molds exist, but in the secretly conservative world we coexist in, should we really expect the idea of first comes marriage, then comes the baby carriage to be out of style? Sure we’re more accepting of the out of tradition molds. Divorce is like a staple of the nation now, but can I just ask for some brownie points for doing things as society asked and really making it work?

Not only that but to come into a union out of choice instead of circumstance? Where’s the certificate of achievement for that!? There are so many walks of life, and we are forced to recognize, respect and celebrate all of them at one time or another, but what about those of us that worked at it? Yes, all relationships and facets of life itself are “work,” but some have it harder than others.

Personally I have overcome severe depression without medication, family addiction, personal losses such as death and grief, and the general betrayal by and of loved ones in the form of money, personal conflicts and judgments. And who hasn’t?! But there is a dignity with which to accept the lot in life you are given, and even with a fit of rage and many mistakes, the choices to guide yourself out of the darkness should be rewarded.

My husband and I CHOSE to be with each other because we knew we were a great match. I CHOSE to turn my outlook on life around without being medicated. I CHOSE to finish school and create an opportunity for myself. I CHOSE to take my family history into account when making lifestyle choices to better my situations. My husband and I CHOSE to live within our means, to move into new surroundings to enrich our lifestyle and adulthood and we CHOSE to have our amazing child.

Many aren’t so lucky. Although I may seem ungrateful at times, I know how lucky I am, but that doesn’t deter the periodic frustration with the general dealings of the world we live in.

So many American households have mountains of debt, student loans and consumer credit issues. My husband and I have never had more than 5,000$ in debt at one time. We have both sustained full time jobs and taken care of ourselves without too much dependence on the outside world with two exceptions, and one of those was a medical emergency.

Since medical debt is as trendy as divorce, it shocks me that this actually counts against you. Even when someone has great health insurance, you still end up paying medical bills, and the amounts of said bills are enough to put you right back in the hospital with a heart or panic attack!

We have no car loans or outstanding tickets. We’ve never had a car payment and have come into car ownership within the means of the money we have. When we needed extras, we turned to credit cards, like most. And by extras, I don’t mean flat screen TVs and fancy vacations. We paid for a vet visit for the dog that snuck up on us, a repair on the car that was overlooked, and new shoes for work, new glasses, or a walk in clinic visit for a minor medical emergency.

So after the birth of our amazing daughter and feeling triumphant that we’d done so well with money and hadn’t racked up too much in my absence from work, we thought we should really do some future discussion and enter the world of grown-ups: house ownership.

One of our closest friends had just purchased a house and we thought, well why not. Now all the hoops you have to jump through could practically be written in Greek. I don’t get it, but that word “pre-qualify” came up and we knew the numbers would have to be “run.” Now I knew my husband’s credit was trashed but mine was pretty good, but he made all the money.

After being optimistic out the ass as I always have to be, even when I really just want to run into a cave and hide from the unfair nature that is our lives, the nice lady over the phone with the results basically told us that our ideals and optimism were shot. No house this year, and we had a bit of a yellow brick road situation with some flying monkeys to deal with. Perhaps having a house actually fall on us would be the most viable option.

As she was winding me around all the jargon I don’t understand on the phone and I’m shaking my head to my husband all I could picture was the moving poster from Harry Potter reading “Undesirable #1.” And then I got a bit worked up.

Why is it that some of the most rotten people we know get things handed to them like inheritances, newer cars, and an endless supply of family hand outs, and we live paycheck to paycheck, pinch pennies and have no luxuries in our midst and can’t catch a break? And it’s not just us! Some of our most wonderful and hardworking friends ALSO have shit luck, and then we watch these thankless, selfish assholes make the grade!?!

For lack of a better word: Bullshit. So I wound myself into a mental cyclone and then look down at my daughter, who had a very challenging first month of life, and was reminded of something: things aren’t really THAT bad. And as bad as it is to say, they can always get worse!

It’s an unfairish life if you ask me, but in turn, I shouldn’t be looking for others to justify my life. Sure I may have played it “by the book” and made choices as close to the guidelines I’d been raised with as I could, but just because some of our “frenemies” lived outside of it, is no true reflection of what we have made for ourselves. We get enough judgment in the world without asking, so I shouldn’t be seeking approval from anyone. Why waste time longing for brownie points when we could just be making brownies?!

I think about the people I admire the most that have had to deal with some horrible things in life. I think about the people who work so hard and who have shared their worry and stories with us. I think about karma and how the truly wretched people will pay for their wrongdoings and mistakes. But mostly I realize that those people who seemingly have it “better” than you or us probably have a whole set of problems we couldn’t even fathom! The more money the more problems, right P. Diddy?

So I put myself back into check and realized no matter how bitter the diatribe, no matter how bad the moment, the day or the situation, we have more than we’ll ever need: each other. It’s corny and cliché for sure, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

We, as a society, live very closed and secretive lives. Somewhere along the timeline we lost our ability to sympathize and share heartfelt stories and now relate almost everything to a “status” change or “check in.” These updates currently allow us to call ourselves socialized. Well, my status change will read “On our way to the life we want, one day at a time.” And I guess we’ll check in as we end up in each stage of life, however bitter the diatribe that the unfairish life had brought us from.