Health Hassles

The irony in life seemingly never stops, and today was quite the test, quite the example. It was doctor time, check up time, wellness physical and all that. Last year was the slippery slope of the the thyroid drama. This year was all new challenges.

The weight thing I've accepted will just always be a struggle. While I no longer carry the self-hatred and self-loathing I once did, and I am avidly working on loving my body more mindfully, technically I am overweight. I don't feel it much, if at all, but by American body mass index standards, yes I am overweight.

So first thing in the door they stick me on that scale. I knew it was coming. I didn't enjoy the number, but it also wasn't a complete surprise. I wish I could say "yeah because all I do is eat." I wish I could say, "Too many desserts" or "too many days of skipping workouts." It's none of that.

Ironically enough, this is the most sober I've been since I was 18. Compared to this time last year I'm drinking a fraction of what I was. I went from drinking a couple nights a week to only weekends to now, two drinks once or twice a month. I went out recently and had A beer. Just one beer. Yeah I'm growing up and adulting. It's happening.

I've curbed the bread stuff too although pumpkin loaves are necessary. It's fall. Mostly though, I have no one to impress but myself. I'm not even partial to what hubby thinks. Judge not lest ye be judged, or whatever.

After that was the blood work part. The good news was my natural thyroid supplement from Amazon is doing it's job. I'm actually stoked about this. The bad news was within two new categories. Before I divulge the bad news, this isn't like "life-threatening" or "life altering" but when you're 34 you just want to hear "You're fine, maybe exercise more."

The new blood panel was too much of the bad cholesterol and not enough of the good cholesterol. Also my liver levels made mention as, we'll see what happens next year but they are "off" but better than last year. I'm not sure any of that was encouraging.

If I'm being completely honest and candid, I'm just waiting for the day I walk in and they say "cancer." Is that morbid and horrible? Sure. Is it kind of realistic anymore? Maybe. I had my appendix removed when I was 17 which has been my only surgery. I've had a sprained ankle but never anything broken. My hospital experiences with my daughter made me regret not having a home birth, especially when it comes to breastfeeding.

I'm not exactly the biggest fan of western medicine. I know it works wonders. I know there are some people who receive excellent care, but if I didn't have to go to the doctor, I doubt I ever would. I feel like they never tell you good news, but almost only bad news. Or maybe that is just me.

Mostly I feel like health stuff is mostly a hassle. Everyone has their own ideas and own experiences with it but what I have experienced in the medical fields have been mostly negative. 

So here is my ray of hope or my positive outlook in the murky midst of adulting: I'm glad I got a supplement from Amazon that doesn't break the bank that is actually helping my thyroid stay okay. I'm glad I have a cholesterol excuse to force my husband to make me more salmon and halibut and such. My liver? Well, I'm not drinking  much so suck it up buttercup.

I work out often. I'm mindful about what I eat. I'm not going to let some number on a scale and some blood work translator scare me into wasting my life away missing out on a great pumpkin beer, or go low carb. Bread is life. Even Jesus said that. I will, however, stay aware.

My body tells me a lot. My body can tell when things are off and I'm going to "stay woke" as the cool kids say. In this world with health advances and opportunities, I plan on staying as un-medicated as possible but as present as I can with what information I'm given.

I had a moment where I thought this could negatively affect my vacation and I just thought, no thanks. If ever there were a reason to eat and enjoy what I like, this would be it. I haven't binged on potato chips for a good car ride in ages. There will be full breakfasts each morning. While I'm glad I'm "in the know" about my body, part of my loving that body and loving myself, is to live my life to the fullest, which goes for my stomach too. After all, there are pumpkin coffees, pumpkin loaves and wedding catering at stake! Did you say steak?!?

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.

Trigger Day -- Six Years Ago Sucked

Six years ago at this time I had a 3 week old. I've written about this a lot. My daughter was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive." I think one of my first posts of this year's challenge was long winded in reference to this so, I'll get into why I'm revisiting it.

Every year on Facebook, the pictures and the posts come up and internally I just start to shrivel. It was really hard. That may even be an understatement. I had extra to deal with, bigger things than just baby, and in retrospect, if I could go back and tell myself to wake up a little more and pay better attention, that diagnosis may not haunt me and still bring me to tears as I type.

She recovered right? Healthiest kid on the planet, I have now! She just had her first sick day of the school year and didn't even have a fever. She was just covered in boogers!

So why does it bother me? I've attributed most of my problems to having a rough run coming into parenthood only to find out that's just the first layer of the onion on so much stuff. But when I think about that time, and extra stuff thrust upon me, other than just being a mom trying to breastfeed, oh man, talk about trauma.

I'm lucky that I was strong enough and had the support I did from moms, friends and my sister coming to make sure I could recover. I was lucky that I didn't just disintegrate into some kind of mental coma because a lot of those doctors were not nice. But, my daughter received excellent care and was just as strong then as she is now.

So this day, much like car accident day, just triggers me. Going to the doctor 6 years ago for a check up and being told she had to be hospitalized and then having to live at the hospital for 10 days and, 8 of those Luna and I were completely alone with only my best friend bringing me good coffee and occasional Chik-Fil-A, that was rough.

Recently I started revealing the whole truth about the experience to a friend and could barely hold back the tears. It actually shocked me how much it still affected me. I have a healthy, smart, awesome kid, but not being able to fully breastfeed her was devastating to me. A lot of the resentment and frustration with immediate family "helping" but not helping, is still there. I had to scrape myself off the metaphorical payment during that time and I realized it was just me and Luna. We were all we had, with the occasional awesome visitor.

When I got home I was so scared and it became even more-so about Luna. I live this every day for her. Even in the car accident, it was all about Luna; didn't matter my head was bleeding, if that guy would have harmed her beyond repair from his negligence, I may be writing my memoirs from a jail cell. 

I think it's important but still surprises me that I'm still recovering from something six years ago! That "Failure" in the title is hard to shake. I'd been so terrified to be a mom and everyone just promises you can do it, something like that three weeks in messes you up!

Now when I watch Luna I think I can't wait to tell her what a little badass she is. How she is just the strongest, fiercest redhead and I love watching her conquer everything on her plate. It's then I remind myself that I have a pretty big part in that, so I think that is all steps of my mental recovery on this taxing day.

So today is one of two pretty severe and annual trigger days. I may have a good cry. I'll definitely hug the little one a little harder, and I'll try and be more gentle on myself. I'm just a work in progress and I'm okay with that. Everything truly is one day at a time. That's all we can do, even on a Wednesday!

Even Into Adulthood I Still Have Anxiety About Getting My Blood Drawn

I remember liking my pediatrician, hating tetanus shots, but not even going to the doctor very often as a kid. As a preacher's kid, I was constantly dragged to nursing homes and hospitals to visit with the sick and cheer them up, and my mom was a bereavement counselor for Hospice that specialized in kids losing their parents to cancer. I always associated doctors with the "sick" or not well. I never had a positive outlook on things medical, I guess. 

After a year with my mom and no doctors appointments ever attended, my dad took me to the doctor a bunch when I moved back in with him when I was 17. I always hated getting my blood drawn because it always hurt. And often I remember sharing my anxiety about it and getting met with annoyed nurses. No one was nice about it. My veins were and always will be hard to find and it always was so uncomfortable.

My dad used to have to bribe me with breakfast at my favorite restaurant to get me to wake up early and go in without complaint. I would have rather been in class and he knew it. It was always a game.

Now, I can handle pain. I can get tattoos like a champ and I pushed a baby out of me without even a Tylenol, completely natural. My mom said I'd never be able to have a natural birth; the joke was on her! But something about the instant bruising and draining feeling and how uncomfortable the whole process makes me, just causes me immense stress and discomfort. You'll never see me on the Big Red bus, just saying.

When I was pregnant they draw your blood a lot. I remember when they had to do a large draw and I just sat there crying in pain. At least the women were nice about it for once. I made my husband buy me a treat after and then he put me down for a nap. 

This far into my adulthood, and we finally have mostly-decent insurance. We're also at that age where we have to make sure we are mostly healthy. Last year I had to have my blood drawn for a normal panel. They made me fast and by the time I got to the diagnostics place I was hungry and thirsty and tired. I told the phlebotomist, "My veins are hard to fine, sorry." She did the normal routine and said, "Oh honey, don't watch me. Don't. Okay?" I bruised instantly and was sore but mostly hungry.

The next blood test they could only draw from my hand and they instantly blew out my vein. It looked like my hand aged to 94 and it was insanely sore. It stayed bruised for 3 weeks.Not my best experience to day. 

This morning, the third time's the charm, but I just had high anxiety. At first the woman seemed okay and then she got a tone with me because, in my nervousness and anxiety, I'd had only coffee but no food or water because I didn't "have to fast," but was too nervous to eat. Coffee was like a pre-game treat for impending trauma.

Two rubber bands on my arm and the lady was slightly irritated even though I disclosed the hard-to-find-veins issue. I told her my dad used to bribe me. She softened, "I can give you a sticker if you want." I looked away when she poked and prodded, winced and it was completely over, no blown out vein. I said, "You're very good at your job, thank you." She told me to be careful with that arm and sent me off to work.

I don't know why I'm such a wuss about this stuff but I just am. Redheads have a higher pain tolerance and I can get shots no problem, but something about the blood drawing just makes me want to run away forever. You'd think with age it would lessen but it seemingly just stays the same. Even an IV at the hospital makes me squeamish.

When we got in the car accident and my head was bleeding I needed 5 staples. It was only the last two I said, "Ouch, okay OW!" Every other pain I could handle. They even had to practically rip an earring out of my cartilage so I could get all the tests to make sure I was okay internally. I wouldn't even have Tylenol after the accident or take my prescribed pain meds, because I wanted to be alert and could push through the discomfort. And in the mediation for the car accident claim, they said my injuries weren't extensive enough to claim excess medical benefits and basically I didn't get hurt "enough." So I got two new tattoos in some strange retaliation move. One of them really hurt!

It's not the pain. I think it's psychological. It has always been harrowing and uncomfortable and stressful. So I psych myself out and make it a big thing. I'm sure there are people on couches in therapy with the same issues, but for me, I just do what I can to avoid the whole thing at all costs. Hopefully this will be my only poke this year, but I maintain that adulting is hard, growing up sucks, and I hate getting my blood drawn. Oh well, at least I got a blog out of it!