Burps and Bellyaches

Careful what you wish for

So what if I told you that I have found the holy grail? I could promise you that you'll never be hungry again, and that, eventually, the very notion of food would repulse you. What if I told you that you WILL lose weight, finally, because you will eventually end up drinking Ensure protein drinks and living on a measly chicken and rice dish a day. What if I told you that after years of carrying so much weight that you don't even recognize yourself, you could be the thinner you that you've always wanted to be? Would you want to do it?

Cause there is, of course, a catch. Sure, you'd have your hunger under control, but that would require never knowing what a vicious attack might come on (full of stomach spasms that are so severe each time that you contemplate the ER, diarrhea that would test even the most diligent scatological humorist and fatigue that would flatten a truck driver). You'd lose friends, your relationship with your daughter, possibly your job, because you are so sick all the time. And since this "illness" doesn't really have a diagnosis, maybe, if you're lucky, people will doubt that you're sick at all. Would that be worth it, I mean, to lose weight?

The reason I ask, of course, is that I think every overweight person does wish for a miracle cure. "If only I just wasn't that hungry!" we think. "If only the very notion of food made me sick" -- this one is especially interesting, because that's what hypnosis for weight loss does, right? It makes the idea of eating gross. But then it happened.

So now, as I drink my magnesium citrate in preparation for yet another x-ray tomorrow, I ponder the weight loss. Don't get me wrong. I love this side effect. But it comes at a huge, huge price. 

Why Does Food Hate Me?

Here's the thing. Sometimes I feel good. Like really good. Like yesterday, for example. I was tired (always tired), but my stomach felt great -- like there was nary a problem at all. So I did eat a little more than usual. What does that mean? A bagel from Whole Foods with goat butter. Rice with salmon. And then I went nuts: some grapes and a Honeycrisp apple (which I couldn't resist)!

Well, tummy didn't like that. I was okay until about 3 am when I just starting puking. Yeah, a brand new symptom boys and girls. Puking, and then, of course, the stomach spasms. This morning I was so weak (and still am) that I couldn't even bring my daughter to school -- had to commander my lovely neighbor and thank goodness he could help. I hate when she sees me so sick and helpless. It's really messed up the dynamic between us and it is probably the worst thing about this whole ordeal. The best thing? I've lost a good 20 lbs. But with the spasms I'm still feeling, I only have one wish -- and that's to get better.

So far today, I've taken Immodium several times, Levsin and an anti-nausea pill. None have helped. I have yet another intestinal xray on Thursday, complete with another barium (scarium!) drink. But for now, it's just trying to get the spasms to stop and get through the day.

 

So on. So forth.

So ... my medical leave is over and I'm not cured. In fact, I spent all weekend sick as a dog. But that is the nature of this stuff, I guess. I feel confident that with my new doctors' guidance, as well as the change in my overall meds, I'm on the road to better health.

Here's an example. It's 4:40 pm, I'm at work and I'm not sick. Well, my tummy is rumbling, but I'm here and I'm not freaking out. That is a big deal!! Normally, at around 3 pm, I have terrible spasms and I have to run off to my secret bathroom. Not so today. Of course, I'm hardly eating anything. Well anything crazy.

Today I had my new usual: a protein drink for breakfast and chicken and rice for lunch. Tonight? Eggs. Honestly, I'm not even craving anything else at this point. I just want to function!

So that's where I am: waiting for the results of some tests I took last week and looking forward to just working and parenting and, well, getting back on the horse. Just as long as this horse stays slow and steady. 

Calling Dr. Welby

Do you remember him? Marcus Welby? That kindly doctor who knew everything about you, came to your home(!) when you were ill and, well, just cared? Or Dr. Gannon on Medical Center? Pre-Clooney emergency room charm mixed with the ability to diagnose whatever ailed you in the nick of time?

Well it don't exist. Don't get me wrong. Things are actually going quite well. I've found some doctors who seem to know what they're doing. But it's shone a light on the ineptitude I've experienced on this rocky path.

My new gastroenterologist doesn't think it's IBS. He thinks it might be an overgrowth of bacteria, is re-testing for some parasites that he thinks might have been missed the first time and is ordering an x-ray of my small intestine. But before I even saw him, I found out that a medicine I've been taking for 20 years, might have a compound that resembles sulfa in it. And I'm allergic to sulfa.

Yes, I've been taking Topamax for about 20 years. The reasons why I take it (and why I now know that I never should have) merit their own column and it will be a doozy. But here's the thing. I've been to, like, a zillion doctors. Every single one of them asks two questions: 1) Are there any drugs you're allergic to? and 2) What drugs do you take every day? Why couldn't one of them put this together? And I asked several of my doctors if the drugs I take could be causing my stomach problems. I believed them, but a simple search for "sulfa and Topamax" brings up enough entries for someone to at least have some concern. I mean I don't profess to totally understand the connection, but enough people think that there might be a connection, and the larger situation ... come to find out after so many years is that I never should have even been on this very expensive and very hardcore-to-your-body drug. So there's that.

It takes a while to go off Topamax, a few weeks. But I've already started to wean and yes, I feel better. Doctor also has me on new medicine and, well, there's just very little I can eat. :( But I feel better. For almost 24 hours! And anyone who has the tummy trouble knows that this is a triumph and I consider it being on the right path.

So I get that there's no Dr. Welby. Or Kildare. Or even Doogie Howser. But if I'm expected to do my job the best I can (and that's what I expect out of myself), then these doctors should too. I still grimace when I walk past those pharma reps who are STILL there in every office. Do your work, doctors!! So I can get back to doing mine.

 

Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Ailment

So ... I'm in the midst of playing telephone tag with my current health practioner. Practicing medicine, I suppose, with me as one of her many subjects. She said that my gall bladder checked out okay, which is a relief, but wanted to speak about some other things on the test and next steps. I left her a message and made the next available appointment, which was on Friday.

Other than an odd looking thingamabob on my liver (which I have to have ultrasounded, but they/me are not worried), they felt that I was pretty much all clear.

That is good news. It means that I don't have to make what they call in the gastric distress business, a gall bladder decision. For any one who had to make one, a "gall bladder" decision occurs when you have something, well, wrong with your gall bladder. It's kind of like circumcision -- used to be that they clipped 'em all. Now, they give you an option. Lots of folks report worse issues after getting them removed. So the good news ... the great news ... is that my gall bladder is fine. Actually everything looks fine. The bad news, for me and every other IBS sufferer out there, of course, is that I'm still sick as fuck.

So I've been trying to manage it in other ways. Mainly? Stress reduction.

Anyone who's been following my twitter feed might be able to discern that I've been on a kick about stress and how it affects IBS and other gastric ailments. This comes on the heels of definitive research that IBS is an actual disease and not just a "syndrome of elimination" that has historically led to head rolls and societal poo-poos (punning!!) about its severity.

So lately, while I, er, eliminate certain other diagnoses and work toward an overall health plan with a better team of doctors, I am also doing yoga (FINALLY!) and working on other ways to consider managing what is clearly a surplus of anxiety. I'm not going to lie, I've been through the wringer, so anxiety makes sense. It's so strange that stress and anxiety can cause such real symptoms, but this is real life. One. day. at. a. time.

Sick Meets Sicker

I got hit bad over the past couple of days. Maybe it was the barium, I don't know. But it was bad. I really, really hate this stuff.

Still feel like crap today actually, but was able to rally a bit. That's the point, really, right? The rally? But what of the nausea?

I've been doing tons of research and twittering the hell out of what I'm finding. Still waiting for the results of my ultrasound. Life is fine and we are totally functional, might even get out of town this weekend.

And hoping ... for some energy. :)

Toilet Humor

I'm in the middle of a spasm. I wanted to post about chronic pain and about how I'm all motivated to overcome it. Instead I'm gonna run back and forth from the bathroom to my bed, where I'll be bent over in the fetal position. iPhone in my hand.

Drink it down

One more 1/2 bottle to go. Quadruple ugh. At least they let me sit outside on this gorgeous day.

But I Break Just Like a Little Girl

What is going on with all these articles about chronic pain and gender? According to a recent article in CNN and other publications, wimmin can't stand pain. Hard to believe from the fairer sex that be pushing those living, screaming beings out of tiny holes smaller than 10 centimeters, but it does bear some discussion. You don't see men running around complaining about fibromyalgia. My guess is that women are just more open about what is bugging them. We don't have the same stigma about mentioning our pain, so we do. It's as simple as that.

I've been asked if I have a low pain threshold. I was asked it a few hours before I gave birth to my daughter, when the hospital wanted me to go back to my home because they didn't think I was dilated enough yet. I had told them I didn't think I could handle the pain at home. I told a nurse this as I pulled her toward me by her lapels, my mouth frothing, rabies style. They let me stay. and I gave birth a few hours later. Apparently I dilated pretty fast. Had I gone home, I would have had to rush back, or maybe even doubted myself returning. My pain guided me and kept me in the hospital, where I was meant to be. When the nurse asked me if I had a low pain threshold, I told her this: I don't know. I've had three spinal taps,I've fallen through a porch and fractured my vertebra and I've broken three bones on three different occasions. All I knew was that that hurt.

Chronic pain sufferers are an interesting breed. Most of us DO not want to be in pain, believe me. Having broke my back 20 years ago, I'm used to some form of pain on a daily basis. Add stomach pain to that and a person could literally go mad. But I'm starting to think that the only way to deal with it is this: accept that you're going to be in some pain, right? So why shouldn't that pain be the kind of pain that comes from feeling good? Like from hiking or stretching or exercising? I think I've let this pain STOP me for too long and that's what's so devastating.

Today is another test. Abdominal CT scan. In the midst of a fast, off to the hospital in about an hour and then drinking some sort of potion for two hours. Yes, they make you drink a potion for two hours!! Once you're radioactive or something like that, they snap your photo and you're off to the races. I'll post again after the test.

 

Takes a Lickin' but Keeps on Tickin'

I saw the cardiologist yesterday. If he was an internist, my search for a good doctor would be done. You know a good doctor when you meet them. Smart, look you in the eye, hear what you're saying, THINK about what you're saying. Whatever, he's a good doctor, there's no doubt about it. If you're looking for a cardiologist, I've got a number. He explained a lot about abnormal EKGs and the good news, the very good news is that my heart is in great shape, I totally need to get myself in good shape and he was incredibly supportive of what I was doing in terms of trying to solve the stomach issue. He grimaced a bit when I told him of my struggles with what I felt was just adequate health care up to this point and sympathized with my need to go see a "good doctor." He agreed that there was a big difference and it was easy for him to say, he was one of 'em.

He has me back in two weeks to check my cholesterol, but other than that, I'm in the clear. Which is great. Thing is I know I'm not in good shape. That's what scared me in the first place when I started getting chest pains.

So regardless of what the catscan says or whether I have to have another colonoscopy or whatever, this is another thing I've been doing ... back to small, healthy meals, mostly proteins. The doctor says low glycemic is best.

Till later.