Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts

New, Improved Maxwell

I don't think I ever posted about this, but a couple months ago, Max (Remember? Big fuzzy guy? REAL big?) presented with a really aggressive type of skin cancer under his gums that looked like brains bubbling up behind his teeth. It was really creepy. At first we thought it might just be an infection from eating bones of roadkill, but alas... They surgically removed it a few times at the local vet, but it kept growing back. Why? Because its cancer and it does whatever the fuck it wants with no rhyme or reason. I hate cancer.

Earlier this week, Dad drove down to the Univ. of Wisco animal hospital where they admitted Mashmash and poked and probed and CT scanned him, and then removed the front part of his lower jaw, and 6 of his teeth. This was the preferred method of treatment, since chemo or radiation can have unexpected long term effects. This way, he may have trouble getting the food into his mouth, but he can still chew it once its in there (also, NO MORE CANCER). I mean, he was slobbery before, but now he physically cannot keep his tongue inside his mouth. Dad sent this picture yesterday when picking him up, "Max: the Shortened Version." It looks so silly, but he's still a happy dog, AND he'll make it to this Christmas, and hopefully several to come!
Moral of the story? Wear your sunscreen. And for the Love of God, don't ever get a dog. Too many bad things can happen.

Band-Aids for Broken Bones

A few weekends ago I drove a grand total of just under 700 miles to different points in the northeast with a long list of things to do and people to see, but it occurred to me that I didn't have any trouble staying awake while driving despite the fact that I wasn't sleeping well because of the stress buzz. In fact, I haven't had a problem driving ANYWHERE in the past 4 months. And I've gone at least 300 miles almost every single weekend. I hate to admit this publicly, but this is HUGE. I used to have trouble staying awake while driving in trips as short as 45 minutes unless it was first thing in the morning. Before this year, you could bet a lot of money that I would fall asleep at least once in ANY lecture. You might have found me passed out: on random couches, on desks, under desks, on tables or floors, in the race cars when parked, on computers, laying on a grassy hill at a concert... I was a napping CHAMPION. Once at my internship last summer I had a mid-afternoon meeting in a tiny room around a tiny table with FOUR people, and I fell asleep in my chair. I was 50% of the presence representing our company in that meeting.

Some of the ways I tried to address this over the years were:

- playing my iPod into one ear during class (this had to be done discreetly)
- bringing my computer to classes where it was welcome
- engaging in other activities during class like writing letters, balancing my checkbook, doing homework for other classes, etc.
- unhealthy amounts of Red Bull (sugar free and regular)
- using the buddy system (friend notices I'm out and kicks my chair)
- eating (I have NEVER passed out with food in my mouth. food is exciting)
- for driving: Books on tape, and I sometimes I'd fast-forward through the slow chapters
- also driving: conversation (on a cell phone. I know. Lock me up.)

The initial thought was that "You're in college, you work hard, no one sleeps well." That's actually fairly incorrect, though, I'd be in bed by 11 and up by 8am almost every day for at least two of those five years. But I still wanted my afternoon naps every day, sometimes twice a day, with no more than 3 hours of class (6 if I had a lab) in a given day. After college it was "Well you didn't really take a break between work and a super stressful job at a startup company." Ok, maybe that's fair. But then when I was unemployed and sleeping roughly 16 hours every day, it finally got diagnosed as depression. Which fit decently, since I was also losing vast amounts of weight, was constantly sick and had horrible insomnia (because I had to wake up to pee every two hours at night). Not to mention the unemployment in the start of the economic downturn. But I have never been hopeless in my life. Overwhelmed, maybe, but never not in control of my own body and mind. I agreed, since I didn't know what else it could POSSIBLY be, but it was weird and never sat right with me.

When I was finally diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in February and put on the correct treatment, it was a slow, steady trickle of health coming back to me - almost imperceptibly because of the surreality of the whole situation. I started sleeping through the night immediately. I stopped craving gallons upon gallons of water. I gained the weight back, which showed at follow-up doctor's appointments. I stopped getting sick (though I was ready with the antibiotics-distributing doctors on speed dial, and loads of sugar-free cold remedies). My hair slowly stopped falling out in handfuls in the shower. I went off the anti-depressants and didn't bat an eye (although I did notice that I could really hear and feel music, again after a few weeks). After about 2 months, I looked at my MIT employee ID photo and it made me sad, how sick I looked, so I got a new one.

But only now have I noticed that I'm not tired during the day or while driving. I just don't need naps. And I work 8-9 hour days, many of them non-stop. But even on the slow days I keep myself going without trouble. I get through three-hour meetings without a single yawn.

After YEARS, I have finally discovered my permanent solution.

Happy Birthday To Me (yesterday)

My booty thus far includes: a vegetable & cheese party, working late on a friday, getting my purchasing offer on a house rejected, a cookbook for diabetics, and a 2 hour shopping spree at EMS for Paul's upcoming 2-month cross country road trip to study rocks. And a dinner and a nice sweater from the "in-laws". That was very nice, though - 3 whole courses!

UPDATE: The night after my birthday, I got an awesome bout of food poisoning.

Week In Review: Type 1.3

Last Tuesday I was diagnosed with Diabetes. Having very little understanding of the illness since the only person in my life who had it was my grandfather, and he died before I was born, I thought that "Juvenile Diabetes" had to hit you before you made it to puberty or something like that. At 23, this came as a bit of a shock.

My new doctor set me up with four other appointments and took 6 full vials of blood from my arm. The next day, I went back to the medical center and spent three hours to learn what diabetes is, discuss my blood tests with an endocrinologist (who also graduated from Dartmouth!), learn how to prick my finger to test my own blood and inject myself with insulin, and give them 3 more huge vials of blood. Sitting there with the nurse pinching a chunk of my skin while I was holding a needle an inch from my own belly was probably the most distressing 45 seconds of my life. Every ounce of my being was thinking "Really? I'm supposed to stab my SELF? This is wrong. This is very wrong." And then the nurse grabbed my hand and shoved it towards my stomach. It really didn't hurt at all. And then I did the injection part, which felt weird because of the fluid, but not terrible. And then the pressure started to build up behind my skin and felt like really really concentrated muscle cramps and I wanted to scream. And that was just a small "test dose". At least now I have something exciting to look forward to every night before I go to bed FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

I'm definitely happy at the prospect of no longer having mystery symptoms. I can live with the possibility that my vision may deteriorate because I look great in glasses, I've been blessed with perfect vision so far in life, and one of the greatest women I know has been legally blind since childhood. Heck, I can even deal with the idea of losing a foot and getting robot legs instead, or a wheel like Rosie on the Jetsons and registering as a motor vehicle. The needle gridlines on my stomach will be fun to play tic-tac-toe or Boxes on. I get a pretty piece of new jewelry as a Medic ID. And the fact that I have now seventeen different prescriptions to pay for every month is fine because my health insurance is really good. My biggest problem? Carb counting. And the NO CANDY rule.

Up until now, I've eaten whatever I wanted, in whatever quantity I wanted, whenever I was hungry. This past summer I lived off hot dogs, ice cream, and mac & cheese. In high school I ate Pixie Stix and cake icing for breakfast, pizza and fries for lunch, Hamburger Helper for dinner, and a case of Mountain Dew to wash it all down. In college I made the switch to Organic, but I still ate two king size chocolate bars as a study snack. And I studied a lot. My boyfriend and his family are Italian. Pasta is my staple.

The insulin is working well for me, which implies I am type 1 and insulin dependent, so yesterday they upped my daily dosage and put me also on a new type - fast acting that I have to take with meals. My doctors and I are going to get this well under control, such that I can even still eat pasta to some extent, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating when I walk through the grocery store near my office in the morning and can't find a decent breakfast bar with less than 35g of Carbohydrate.

So in conclusion, I'm feeling very relieved, a little pathetic, a little excited at a new adventure to conquer, a little stubborn about the foods I love, open to new foods to love, and a little worried that I might not be the only grandkid in my generation to turn up diabetic. But hey, I'm blazing this trail and will be ready to coach anyone who follows me down it.

Thank You For Keeping Your Paper Until I'm Finished

I woke up bright and early this morning, feeling pumped and ready to turn on some GirlTalk and go build some cool stuff at work. A lady asked me timidly if she could have a quarter, since she forgot her Charlie Card, and I happily obliged. The train I got on decided to run Express. It was the making of a perfect morning.

And then my chest started going numb and my head got dizzy. When the blood drained out of my face, I squatted down to the floor, and everyone within 5 feet of me moved as far away as they could on the chock-full train. Right as we pulled into my stop, I sprinted off the train right to the nearest trash can and proceeded to empty the nothing from my stomach. Lucky for me, the liner was fairly fresh and smelling of mostly just the metro papers that people have no use for once they're off the T. I even had full view of an untouched Sudoku puzzle to work on.

It took about 20 minutes, but I could finally breathe and think normally again, even though I was now slightly soaked in my own cold sweat. A quick stop to Starbucks, and I was on my way. ...Should be a fun day of work...

This Is Funny

Last week while I had my sinus infection, I stayed mostly at my mom's house, so she could take care of me, instead of my aunt&uncle's house like I usually do. She did a good job. I got clean sheets and everything. And I'm feeling a million times better. Occasionally, I'd still drop by my aunt&uncle's house to hang out with anyone who happened to have the day off from work or school. One night we all convened there for dinner while I was still feeling pretty sick (please excuse The Ugly) and the kids jumped on my computer, as they are wont to do, like white on rice. Apple's Photobooth application is a favorite pastime of ours. Below we have cousin Claudia, 13, being the total Diva that she is and me, 23, making a face and drooling on Claudia's arm, then trying to recover, then pointing out the drool on Claudia's arm, and finally laughing at her reaction to it.

And The Winner Is...

Sinus Infection! Which is far more preferable than a 3-year-delayed dry socket from my wisdom teeth removal compounded with 50 other things (pink eye, ear infections, etc.). I finally went to the Emergency Room, not having a doctor, and they just sort of ...guessed... and put me on some antibiotics. Super. Mom and Claudia came with me so that I wouldn't be bored or lonely and we all cuddled up on the hospital bed for 45 minutes or so watching James Bond. It was pretty cute. The nurse who gave me my discharge paperwork assumed I was 15 years old and spoke directly to my mother, only marginally acknowledging me. It was obnoxious, but I am confident in my ability to have gone by myself if I needed to, and she doesn't know me, so I'll let it slide.

On a completely different note, I'm going to try and post every day this month in honor of National Blog Posting Month. Its going to be a pretty JV attempt, but I'll just see what I can come up with.

A Case Of The Mondays

I went to NY (state) again this weekend to hang out with my very adorable friend and his family. This time, instead of waiting until 10 pm to leave, thinking that 5 hours would be enough sleep but needing to take a nap in a rest stop and waking up at 4 am still an hour from home, I left at 7:30 to get some fast food, which turned into 8:30 before I got the food. But it still got me home by midnight.

But, safely though I made the drive, every single parking spot in my neighborhood was taken. So I parked in an empty lot 4 blocks away from my apartment that didn't have any signs posted about not parking there. And then it started downpouring. So I walked home in the rain, leaving most of my stuff in my car so it wouldn't get soaked. I went to bed still a little soggy, expecting probably a parking ticket in the morning, but safe and in my bed instead of the back of my car.

I got up this morning, on time, ready to go, and discovered my car had been towed. Upon closer inspection, there are several signs in the parking lot, each with a tree planted strategically DIRECTLY in front of it. So I found the towing company's number, called them and was told that they deal in cash only and I'd need to bring $117 to their address. At the very least, I was already close to my local commercial block and walked around the train tracks and across the street to the bank. I grabbed my money and ran out the door towards the taxi stand down the street and realized that I'd forgotten my ATM card in the machine. And because it was before 8:30 am, the bank was closed and I would need my card to get back into the building.

And I still have the remnants of a cold.

As much as paying $1200 for the year for a parking space sucks, that's better than $200/month in parking tickets and towing fines seen as how Boston definitely gives out more parking permits than there are spaces available. Its a business tactic, I'm sure. Someone will ALWAYS be parked illegally. Musical parking spaces: where the City of Boston always wins.

Grouse

My tonsils have felt swollen since Monday. I don't have tonsillitis and though there is pressure behind them, they, in fact, are not swollen.

I don't have an ear infection (yet) but it kind of feels like it.

I've had terrible sinus pressure/headaches for about two weeks (except it comes and goes...? so dick's house doesn't believe me) And my nose has been lightly running for that same two weeks.

Two of my three final projects (worth a very significant part of my grade) are in shambles.

I got up at 5:30 this morning to go babysit and what do I find? I have pink eye. In both eyes. And it is taking more constraint than I have the nerve to afford not to gouge my eyes out with my fingernails. This is so gross. I have never had pink eye before, but I have a sneaking suspicion I'm not making this one up - because one shouldn't be able to WILL one's eyes to produce green goop.

Let the room sanitizing that I don't have the time to do begin. And stupid Collis and Dirt Cowboy (cafes) don't even open until 7 am.