Tag Archives: health

Holding My Head Above the Water

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It has come to my attention that I’m not happy. I want my life to be a certain way and, rather than feeling bad that it isn’t that way, it’s time to sit down and decide A) how I want my life to be, and B) how I’m going to make that happen.

How I Want My Life to Be

I want to spend most of my time writing, and I want to get paid to do so. I want to have my books published and then write more books. I want to write articles for other creatives to help them market themselves.

I want to get married and have babies, but I don’t want to have any babies until I publish at least one novel.

I want to get a grip on my mystery autoimmune disease. I’m sick of spending the day taking medication with no results. Throughout the last week, I’ve taken more Mobic, Tylenol, and Tramadol than I fear my body can handle, and the worst part is, it barely helps until all three are in my system. I’m terrified that I’m developing a stomach ulcer or something.

How I’m Going to Accomplish This

I’m going to run through Sade On the Wall and get it ready for an editor. This means that I need to write the new first chapter that’s been sitting in my head, and make a few adjustments to the chapter where Sade and her brother go to the community center. Then I’m going to find an editor who isn’t too expensive so that he or she can help me whip this manuscript into shape.

Then, when Sade On the Wall is out for query, I’m going to repeat these steps for Secondhand Mom.

In the meantime, I’m going to keep writing stories and articles, and I may even write another novel.

I’m not going to go back to school just because some people in my life — people whom I really, really love, and know mean well — think I should. I’m going to hold off until I really want to go.

I need to put myself first for a while and stop worrying about everyone else.

I can’t control everything. I can’t control my chronic pain, even though I try really hard. I can’t control my depression, even though I try really hard there, too. The lack of daylight is really not helping with my mood, so maybe it’s time to get a light box. It’s also time to start eating better: more fruits and vegetables, and more protein.

I’m also thinking about separating my more personal blog from this one. I want the focus of elizabethbarone.net to be my writing, not my aches and pains.

So, I need your advice.

  • Do you use a light box? What brand is it, and about how much did it cost? Does it help?
  • Would it be confusing if I used elizabethbarone.net to talk about writing and someotherwebsite.com to talk about my chronic pain, depression, etc? Am I annoying you with my digital indecisiveness?
  • Can you recommend any feel good foods or recipes that are healthy and would be convenient to take with me to work? (I usually only have a fifteen-minute break, so I don’t have a lot of time to heat anything up.)

Hugs are good, too. I just feel so overwhelmed. I hate to admit it, but there it is.

Off My Mind: Things I am Not Going to Worry About

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Lately I’ve been worrying so much that I barely have time for anything else, in my head at least. The other day I realized that I just need to stop worrying… so I did. This is unprecedented in Liz history. The worries are still there, of course, but they no longer threaten to suck me dry. I no longer feel like I’m going to break into little pieces. I still need to purge my system, though, and get these worries off my mind.

I am not going to worry about money anymore. My paycheck every Friday isn’t that great — I work fifteen hours a week and earn minimum wage — and it may be tight every week, but I’m okay. It’ll be even less tight after next Friday, when I pay off the last bill in the stack of bills that I need to catch up on. Hell, I’m even managing to save a little bit of money every week. I’ve gotten damn good at budgeting. Clearly I am wife material.

I am not going to worry that every family member’s health problem is a death sentence anymore. Well okay, that’s probably impossible to stop doing, but I’m going to try. My aunt had her biopsy on the 21st, and the other lady in my life who needs a mammogram has yet to make an appointment, so either way it’s all out of my hands. Worrying is not going to help anything. It’s just going to make me feel sick.

I am not going to worry about my own health problems. Currently I’m in remission, meaning I have little to no symptoms. This could all change tomorrow, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m actually feeling quite positive about this year’s New York Comic Con; last year, I hurt for days after, but this year I’m less soft because I work in retail again and I’m used to being on my feet for hours. By October 15th, I’ll be a pro. I’m not going to let my pain ruin that day for me.

I’m also not going to worry about my lack of a diagnosis. It’s got to be a good thing that they haven’t found anything, because maybe that means this will go away. Maybe it’s just some weird aftereffect of the mono I had, maybe it’s just the mono working its way out of my system all these years later. I don’t know. I caught a segment of some Mystery Diagnosis-ish show last night and the woman’s symptoms were almost to the T mine; I could have written that part of the episode. She ended up being diagnosed with Scleroderma, an autoimmune disease where the body doesn’t produce enough of the collagen protein and the body attacks its own skin cells and other tissues. It’s a rare disease marked by joint pain, fatigue, Raynaud’s Syndrome, and GI issues. It sounds pretty close to mine, and maybe it’s not mine, but once I get back on my feet and can afford another doctor’s appointment, I’m going to have Pam check my collagen levels in my next blood workup. It gives me something else to go on and something else to cross of the long list of Things That are Not Wrong with Me if the test comes back negative… but I’m not going to let it get to me.

And while we’re still on the health subject, I am so going to stop worrying about my Mirena IUD. When they first told me it could potentially poke through my uterus and cause DOOM, I didn’t worry about it. But ever since I missed my followup because I couldn’t afford the copay, I’ve been freaking out at the slightest bit of pressure in my lower abdomen. Logic tells me I would definitely know if the thing poked through my wall because I’d be in screaming pain and bleeding like a stuck pig or something, but my imagination (as we know) runs rampant and tells me that I am bleeding internally and am going to die. If you’ve ever thought I might be crazy, you now may be convinced that I am completely insane. I’m not apologizing for my imagination. It helps me write stories. :P

I am not going to worry about what I want to do for the rest of my life. I had this problem. I wanted to do everything and couldn’t pick one thing to do forever. A week ago, I realized that I don’t have to pick one thing. A career should be something you enjoy, that you want to get paid for. It shouldn’t be a life sentence. At least, not for me. I am not a “pick one thing and do it forever” kind of person. The only thing I do forever is love someone. I have many interests, all of which wax and wane. It keeps my life interesting and keeps me learning. I can already tell that I’m going to be one of those seventy-year-olds embarking on a new career, because I am always embarking on a new interest, and have already had a successful career.

Part of me wanted to be an editorial assistant, part of me wanted to be a teacher, and part of me wanted to be a surgeon. I can’t do it all at once, and I accept that. I tried to pick one thing to do forever and I couldn’t convince myself that it was okay, so when I realized that I didn’t have to choose, I felt a huge weight come off me. All I had to do was choose which one I wanted to do next. As much as I’d love to be an editorial assistant, it’s not realistic for what I want in my life right now. I’d have to go to school for another two to three years, work the retail job I have now, and then when I finished I’d have to find a job in the field… which would not be easy. I want to work as an editor for a publishing company and read people’s novels and short stories. Those jobs are very, very hard to come by, partly because of the economy, and partly because of the changing landscape of publishing. It doesn’t mean that it would be impossible. It just wouldn’t be easy.

So instead, I’ve decided to chase my other dream for now and come back to that one later: being a teacher. I’ve decided that I’d rather work as a preschool teacher because, as much as I love all kids, that age group is my favorite. And, in Connecticut, you can become a preschool teacher with either an A.S. in Early Childhood Education or your CDA certification. I’ve also heard that many preschool and Head Start programs will hire a teacher as long as they are currently working on their certification. I’ve emailed the head of the ECE department at my community college to see what my best option would be, as the certification on its own would take less time than the A.S., and I’m assuming that since I already have an A.S., I’d be just fine with the certificate.

I’d be able to start working in that field in a relatively short period of time, and then I would have a good paying job with health insurance benefits and enough income to live off of. After that, I could start pursuing my B.A. in English part-time and eventually be in that field, as well as have time to focus on my writing; most preschool teachers are part-time employed, and depending on where they teach, they also have summers off. I would also have something to fall back on if I can’t find employment as an editorial assistant. No matter how I look at it, this works for the best.

I am not going to worry about our wedding plans. Mike and I both have very different ideas of what our wedding should look like. He wants a Halloween wedding and I want a beach wedding — two very different seasons. I worried about us compromising, but I’ve decided that if we don’t, I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter to me how we get married, so long as we do get married. We’re going to talk about our wedding plans, budget, and a possible date later.

I am not going to beat myself up about my savings and worry about how soon we can get our own place. It really bothers me that I had to use the money I saved for an apartment to get through the months I was unemployed… but I’m not going to beat myself up about it anymore. I’m saving money again and moving forward. I’m considering setting up a second savings account that is only for the apartment, that way it’s out of sight and out of mind, and I won’t be tempted to tap into it next time I have a monetary emergency.

And, on a lighter note… I am not going to worry about catching up on Grey’s Anatomy anymore. I finished Episode 16 of Season 7 earlier today, DVRed the first episode of Season 8 last night, and I’ll catch up eventually. I’m not really looking forward to having to wait a whole week to see the next episode, anyway.

Also, on a completely different subject but also equally light note, I am back in my writers’ group at NVCC. I’m also sort of a team leader, the person who is there every Thursday so that we meet once a week no matter what. This also means that, every week, I have to write something. It also means that I’m taking it upon myself to ensure that, every week, we have some kind of snack. Snacks are important. I’m making the writers’ group and the Fresh Ink publication one of my priorities right now, because it helps me make writing one of my priorities. Writing and snacks are important.

What are you not worrying about, and what are you looking forward to? Leave a comment and get the bad things off your mind, and make something good your mind’s priority.

One Title Does Not Fit This Post

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I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it: I found out yesterday that Noni’s tumor grew a little. I know that “a little” isn’t anything to freak out about, but I can’t help but think, “What the fuck? The hormones were supposed to shrink it, not let it grow.” I’m trying to stay positive and not freak out, but it’s bothering me. Her doctors are going to reevaluate the hormone treatment and see if they should try something else, or if she’s going to need surgery to have it removed like they originally planned, or what. I don’t have many more details than that. I think they’re going to do some more testing on the tumor. Honestly, I kind of went into this numb zone where I didn’t hear much else beyond “tumor grew a little,” and I’m kind of afraid to ask someone because I kind of feel like an asshole for missing most of the conversation.

Because I don’t really want to think or talk about that, I guess I’ll tell you about my second least favorite subject: My latest visit with my rheumatologist!

I saw him on on the 21st, and after waiting an hour like always, finally got into an exam room. I saw one of the nurses first. She took my blood pressure, asked me about medications, then went through a whole list of questions, like, “Do you have any joint pain? Headaches? Chest pain?” etc. Some of them were relevant, but most of them weren’t. I told her about my six-day headache, and she was kind of surprised. I forgot to tell her about my switch from oral birth control to the Mirena, so when my doctor came in I made sure to tell him about both the headache and the Mirena. He didn’t seem concerned about the headache, though. (It did, by the way, finally go away on the 23rd. I haven’t had one since, knock on wood.)

We talked about my Tramadol and how I’ve been on 25mg and how it’s radically helped my joint pain, and he seemed satisfied with that. He asked me if I’d started Tai Chi or anything like that and I told him I had planned to, but lost my job so couldn’t afford it. We also talked about my UTI symptoms. After telling me I needed to get a urinalysis done that day and get blood work done in two to three months, he asked if I’d followed up with my PA-C at my regular doctor’s. I hadn’t, and hadn’t even thought about it, so he said I should follow up with her… and also with Dr. Lichter.

Dr. Lichter is a Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation specialist. He’s the one who did several nerve conduction tests on me, all of which came back fine, and then told me to get a gym membership and sent me on my way. I didn’t have a problem with him until then. I have a huge problem with doctors dismissing health problems when they can’t quickly diagnose them. He might be a fantastic doctor, but he obviously didn’t know what to do with me and didn’t think he needed to try anything else. I know I’m a mystery. I’ve had countless doctors tell me that. My blood work is wily. Honestly, if I were a doctor, I might have reason to think I was a drug addict just looking for a prescription, or at the very least, a hypochondriac. Unfortunately, before my daily dose of Tramadol, my joint pain was very real and definitely not just a twinge here and there that I freaked out over. This shit kept me up at night on many occasions that I’d rather not remember. This shit interfered with my life on many levels. If I’m a hypochondriac, I’m a really good one.

Dr. Greco wrote my PA-C’s office and Dr. Lichter’s office on the “copy to” part of the blood work order, and told me he’d see me in six months, and to follow up with Pam (PA-C) and Dr. Lichter in the meantime. I know I don’t have to see Dr. Lichter. I’d definitely rather not waste the $40 copay. Hell, I can’t even afford any of my copays right now, so I’d really rather not waste it on a doctor I don’t like and don’t want to see. I’m going to make an appointment with Pam and see what she thinks. Honestly, I’m not sure what the next step is. My symptoms are, for the most part, finally being managed. I could just walk away and be content with taking several medications — Tramadol, Miralax, a slew of vitamins — for the rest of my life. At the same time, though, I still really just want to know what the hell caused all of this. It’s kind of hard to justify more sleuthing, though, when my symptoms are being managed.

I did my urinalysis that same day, and the next day got a call from Dr. Greco’s office. I have a bladder infection, and am on Cipro. I can’t even think of how many times I’ve had bladder infection or UTI symptoms, had my urine tested, and came back with nothing. I had it so bad one time, I was screaming and crying. (I think I may have even gone to the ER, but it was a long time ago so I’m not positive.) I’m shocked that something actually showed up this time. I’ve been feeling like shit for a couple months now.

Cipro sucks. You can’t take it within so many hours of magnesium, calcium, or milk product, or with any of those things, so I am having a hard time remembering to take it. I take all of my pills in the morning after breakfast. I can’t take Cipro then because I usually have some kind of milk product; if I don’t have cereal for breakfast, I usually drink coffee with cream. It’s definitely annoying.

I’m also annoyed because I had a urinalyses when I had my annual at my gynecologist’s, and apparently the bladder infection didn’t show up. My symptoms then were worse than they are now. Speaking of my gynecologist, I missed my appointment today with her to check my Mirena. I completely forgot until I started writing this. The worst part is, their reminder machine called me yesterday, and I have it written down in my planner. I have completely lost track of my days.

Not having a job is killing me. I know I keep whining about this, but I’ve never had such a hard time finding one. At first, when I lost my job in May, I thought, Whoo, vacation! Now I am bored, a couch potato, have no life, and have no money. The bills are piling up. Most of them are medical bills, but I have to give my mom money for my car insurance next month, and then in October have to pay at least $50 toward my student loan. And if the school ever sends me my acceptance letter, I’ll need gas to get back and forth from New Haven. I’m only planning on taking one class (unless something changes drastically, like I get a work study at the school), but still.

I feel like I’ve been going through one of those really long rough patches, and I’m almost at the part where I’m going to get through it. It’s not just work related. It’s my health, family — everything. I feel like I’m on the edge, that I just have to keep swimming. It’s been a long, long rough patch, let me tell you. I cannot wait to get to the other side.

How did you get through a long rough patch?

No fast food for a month

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I was reading my friend Brooke‘s bucket list today, and one of the items she listed got me thinking.

Go Without TV For A Month

I’ve been eating way too much fast food lately. Not only can I not afford to eat out two, three, four times a week — sometimes two or three times a day! — but it also can’t be very good for me.

So, for the next month, I’m going without fast food. If I absolutely have to stop at a McDonald’s or something, I’m getting a salad and only a salad; NO MORE CHEESEBURGERS!

I had Dunkin Donuts hash browns this morning, so I’m starting tomorrow. (Coffee doesn’t count as fast food, in case you were wondering.) So, from tomorrow, April 28th, 2010, to May 28th, 2010, I’m not having any fast food.

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The first step

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I’ve always had a hard time admitting when something is too hard or when I need help. I’m stubborn and fiercely independent. I also tend to get hit with big ideas and goals, and then I jump into them without thinking them through.

During the last couple of months, I’ve constantly felt as if I could barely keep my head above the water. It wasn’t just school. It was also work, my health problems, my relationship with Mike, and a deep inner yearning to toss everything away and get back to writing. Every aspect of my life suffered, and I with it. I kept trying to ignore the problem, kept trying to look at the bright side. “I can do this,” I’d tell myself, and with renewed strength I’d plow on through. But several days later I would be back in the same position, tired from all of the swimming and barely avoiding the waves of my To Do list from pulling me completely under.

Tuesday night I did not sleep. My legs were wrecked with a pain so intense that I could not do anything other than toss and turn. I wanted to scream, but the people in my house slept soundly around me. I lay there for hours, trapped in a prison that is supposed to be my body, until I finally threw the covers back and got up. I did a lot of bitching on Facebook, which I sort of regret (but only because I don’t like showing any kind of weakness).

I popped in the last DVD of Dollhouse Season 1 and watched “Epitaph One” and the original unaired pilot. I watched a whole bunch of special features. And still the pain wore on. I could barely concentrate, and although I felt so tired, I could not fall asleep. Pain like that is maddening, and I didn’t think I could stand another minute of it.

I logged into Facebook again, wandering around aimlessly, when Mike messaged me. He couldn’t sleep either. We had each been awake for hours, fighting our demons alone, but a simple website had allowed us to come together. We talked on the phone for a long time, sharing our thoughts and soothing each other. I asked him the question that I have been longing to ask but too proud to put into words: “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I wish I had an answer,” he said, and I could hear in his voice the frustration and pain he felt for me.

We talked some more, and suddenly the conversation turned to school. Suddenly, I could no longer hide the sensation of drowning that I had been feeling for the last couple of months. “I don’t even know where I’m going to be in five years,” I said, possibly unnecessarily morbidly. I confessed how stressed out I’m feeling, and how I just can’t seem to stay ahead or even on track of everything.

“Well,” he said. “I’m not saying this is what you should do, but maybe you should think about dropping out. Take the time to concentrate on finding out what’s wrong. You can always go back.”

There. He’d said the words that I’d been too stubborn to even think about, but had known deep in my heart for several weeks.

“But, I don’t know if it will affect my GPA,” I said, still stubbornly clinging.

“Screw the GPA,” he said. “It’s just a GPA.”

(Twenty-four hours later, my mom and I would have the same conversation, and she would say the exact thing he had: “It’s just a GPA.”)

“Just think about it,” he said. “School will always be there.”

For the next several hours, while I lay in bed not sleeping, and then when I barely slept tossing and turning, I thought about it. I admitted to myself that the stress of all the things I had stubbornly taken on might be making things worse. I admitted that I’m doing horribly in school and that at this point it is probably too late. I admitted that I needed to really concentrate on me, and that only then would I be able to do well in school.

After talking to my mom and then thinking about it a little more, I decided to do what my heart has wanted to do for several weeks now. I began the withdrawal process yesterday, and already I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from me.

I have promised myself that I am not going to do this to myself again. I’m not going to jump into an idea that sounds awesome without thinking it through first. I’m going to learn to concentrate on one or two things at a time, without overloading myself. I’m going to take care of myself and find a way to find out what it wrong with me. I’m going to stop taking on so much that I end up burning myself out.

And, more importantly, I’m going to do what I love: I’m going to spend the entire month of November writing a novel without worrying about exams and portfolios and lesson plans and math.

I have taken the first step: I’ve admitted that, while I do really love kids, I’ve had doubts about becoming a teacher and going through this program. While I like school, it’s been incredibly stressful for me and I just honestly can’t handle it right now.

And that is okay. Just hearing it from Mike and Mom, that it’s okay, makes it easier for me to believe.

It’s okay, and I’m going to be okay.