Ha!
( Oct. 9th, 2009 02:17 pm)
"Interstitial cystitis is one of those mysterious chronic illnesses that many doctors have a difficult time treating. The reason being is that when patients get tested for urinary tract infections, more often than not, nothing turns up. Hence the name "non-bacterial cystitis".

There is no known cause and no known medical cure for IC. There are medical treatments and procedures, such as bladder instillations, hydrodistensions, and Elmiron, but they only work for a small percentage of people some of the time, and often have strong side effects.

Interstitial cystitis is considered to be an "immune system breakdown disorder" because it typically appears when immunity has been compromised. It often occurs in tandem with other immune system breakdown disorders, namely chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, and vulvodynia.

In fact, IC patients are 100 times more likely to have irritable bowel syndrome than the general population, and a large percentage suffer from the aforementioned disorders as well. This is not surprising, since a compromised immune system can and does affect many areas of the body."

The urologist said my CaT scan showed I have diverticulosis, so I'm going to pass along those test results to my gastroenterologist. Fun, fun, fun.
Tagged:
WHEE!!!
( Oct. 5th, 2009 02:03 pm)
Once again, I find myself wrestling with some sort of mystery UTI. Luckily (if one can call it that), I had already made an appointment with a urologist for the same day my symptoms began to manifest. I say "mystery" because I have the pain & urgency etc, but my labwork all came back showing no bacteria. Naturally, I accuse my thyroid. That fucker is always causing trouble!

The pain is excruciating. It is reminiscent of my fallopian cyst from back in 1998. I spent a large portion of this morning sobbing, and I nearly passed out at work. Cystex brings no relief, nor does Vesicare. Tylenol worked okeh, but right now I'm on Advil. I'm also giving Uva Ursi another go, this time with the cranberry supplements. Because goddamn, why the hell not.

Us fatties are supposed to hate our bodies -- we've been conditioned as such by today's society. I used to, and I don't anymore. I grew out of that right around the time when most girls grow out of it and grow into womanhood. It was a challenge, sure, but I did it.

I don't hate my body. I love my body. I hate the illness and the pain and the embarrassment of trying to explain to people what's "wrong" with me. I fucking hate that this body, which I struggled so fucking hard to learn to love, constantly betrays me in new ways. This shit...this fucking bullshit pain in my gut...this is why I hate my body.
I learned from this post on definatalie.com this week is National Invisible Illness Awareness Week in America. I'm inspired by Natalie's post to fill out my own questionnaire here. I invite you to fill out your own in your blog & link me in the comments.

1. The illness(es) I live with are:
Hashimoto's Thyroiditis (aka hypothyroidism), Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (aka PCOS), and Seasonal Affective Disorder (aka SAD) manifesting as depression.

2. I was diagnosed with it/them in the year:
thyroid: 1989 (age 11)
PCOS: 1998 (age 20)
depression: 1990 (age 12)

3. But I had symptoms since:
thyroid: age 9
PCOS: age 12
depression: age 8

4. The biggest adjustment I've had to make is:
I've been sick since I was a child, so I don't really know what it's like to NOT be. There's not really any adjustment to make, as this is normal to me.

5. Most people assume:
I don't know what people think, really. I'm very headstrong, willful, and impatient, so I tend to not listen to them. I'm afraid people think I'm a hypochondriac for always saying I'm sick, or that I'm weak for complaining about pain. I *do* know that when I'm depressed, whoever I'm with often assumes that I'm upset with them.

6. The hardest part about mornings is:
Lately, I've been battling some sort of anemia, so my energy levels have been lower than usual. If I don't remember to take my thyroid pills as SOON as I wake up, I'll feel like I'm swimming underwater or floating in a fog the whole rest of the day.

7. My favorite medical TV show is:
M*A*S*H

8. A gadget I couldn't live without is:
My lightbox for cloudy & overcast days.

9. The hardest part about nights is:
Sometimes I get really painful leg cramps from wonky thyroid hormones.

When I menstruate or have PMS, overnights are the WORST. Even though for over ten years I've been on birth control pills to diminish ovarian cysts that caused me seven-ten nights of heavy flow, I loose sleep because I'm still scared I might bleed through and make a huge mess on my bed.

If I'm having a bout of depression, I have trouble sleeping. Since I purchased a lightbox two years ago, my insomnia has all but disappeared. It was TERRIBLE when I was a kid. I lost almost all of my junior year of high school -- I seriously don't remember what happened.

10. Each day I take [?] pills & vitamins.

That there is only half of 'em. Not shown: three before-I-wake-fully 60mg of Armour thyroid hormone, after-lunch glucophage, and after-dinner glucophage, cranberry supplements, multi-vitamin, and birth control pill.

11. Regarding alternative treatments, I:
I've tried chiropractic & therapeutic massage treatments for my chronic pain, but I ended up feeling WORSE, not better. Supposedly, if I had stuck to them for months/years/whatever/forever, I'd be MIRACLE CURED OMG. I don't have the money or the time for that, sorry.

As pictured, I take several herbal supplements in addition to chemical pills. When I hear about something that could help (i.e. cranberry for UTIs), I try it. If it helps, it stays. If not, I toss the bottle and eat the cost. Sometimes I suffer from terrible side effects (iron pills, I'm looking at YOU), and that fucks my shit up for days...even weeks.

I hear TCM, such as acupuncture & nasty-tasting teas, could help, but once again, I can't afford the time or the cost. And I am one of the few who have access to EXCELLENT health care & insurance, fortunately. Ironic, isn't it?

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness and a visible one, I would choose:
AS IF! anyone can choose their lot in life. What a foolish question.

13. Regarding working and career:
I get in trouble for calling out sick as often as I do. I am very lucky my boss let's me work extra days to make up time when I've used up my allocated sick days. However, that means I work more than many. Well, in this economy, I suppose I should be grateful to even HAVE a job.

14. People would be surprised to know:
Some days I feel fanFUCKENtastic! I can muster up the energy to walk or bike all over town, working out is a pleasure, and I'm a thousand smiles. And then SURPRISE! a week later, I'm crumpled up in the doorway, crying in pain.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality is:
There's nothing NEW about my reality...but the hardest thing for me to accept is that sometimes, I am simply TOO SICK to attend a social function or fun event. I try to not take the flaky way out & call my friends to let them know what's up, but I'm afraid I appear like a selfish shut-in.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness was:
Shop for straight sized clothes. I've worn plus sizes since I was in middle school, so I just have to MAKE IT WORK. /tim gunn

17. The commercials about my illness:
*What* commercials would that be, exactly? Motherfuckers, WHERE IS MY FUNDRAISER?! I want a Thyroid Three-Day, a Polycystic Purple Ribbon, and a SAD Telethon.

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed:
Uh, recess? Once again, I was diagnosed as a kid, so there's really nothing I miss that's not related to childhood.

19. It was really hard to give up:
Believing that one day I'd be tall and thin. That was a hard fantasy to surrender. Let me tell you, I still succumb to that bad habit. It can be tough accepting myself for who I am.

20. A new hobby I've taken up since my diagnosis is:
See #18

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again, I would:
I would ride my scooter to NYC, ride all over the five boroughs, and then ride home again that night. Sure, I'd be a bit tired, but as I am NOW, it's impossible.

22. My illness has taught me:
How to be a control freak. (same answer as Natalie!)

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say (about my illness) that gets under my skin is:
"I have this relative/friend/coworker who has a thyroid disorder, and she's JUST FINE." WELL GOOD FOR THE BOTH OF YOU.

24. But I love it when people:
...are understanding and kind when I explain my limitations.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is:
"Everything is going to be okeh."

26. When someone is diagnosed I like to tell them:
"Everything is going to be okeh."

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is:
I am jealous at how some people are so cavalier about their activities. Fucking eh, if *I* had a normal body instead of this fixer-upper, I'd be out and about every day! Instead, most folk sit around and watch television or post crap online.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn't feeling well was:
My boyfriend takes such wonderful care of me when I'm sick. He's constantly doing the nicest things, from driving me all over town to multiple pharmacies when my meds are out of stock, to sitting with me to keep me company when I'm blue.

29. I'm involved with Invisible Illness Week because:
I was inspired by Natalie's post on http://www.definatalie.com

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel:
Pleased that you are now better informed.
Tagged:
WHEE!!!
( Jun. 12th, 2009 03:56 pm)
I'm tired, so tired. I can feel it, the tiredness, slowing coursing through my body like negative energy. Though instead of making me feel, it numbs. I had an appointment with an endocrinologist the other day, and I canceled it because I didn't feel well enough to go to the doctor.

Ugh, so many doctors! I have a GP, who is only open from 9am-2pm. There are three doctors in that office, and there's often a long wait to see one. Why don't I just go to another doctor? Because that would mean having to explain everything again. The mere thought of it exhausts.

I see an allergist for my asthma and, yes, allergies. Luckily, I've been breathing fine since we got that combination of medications right, so I see her once a year now. She is great, but her office manager is terrible. She has the type and tone of voice that always seems like she is yelling at you across a crowded restaurant when you are standing directly in front of her. She also was charging me twice my copay, and then argued with me when I corrected her. I hope I never have to go back there.

Then there's my shrink. Chronic depression and Seasonal Affective Disorder are all symptoms of hypothyroidism, and I've suffered with one or the other of these since the onset of my Hashimoto's Thyroiditis at age eight. I am so incredibly fortunate to have a job which provides access to mental health insurance. I've gone for over ten years without therapy before, and that was a bleak time.

I need to have two fillings done and a crown placed over my root canal, but that will have to wait. My dermatologist surgically removed a spot from my back last month. Happily, I learned it was not cancerous, but I can only bear so much acute pain at once.

Just in time for my "birth control" pill (I take The Pill to regulate my periods from ten days of heavy bleeding due to PCOS, to three days of lightness) scrip to expire, I finally found a new gynecologist! The previous doctor yelled at me for not losing weight FAST ENOUGH. They yelled at me, arguing and belittling, with me stark naked and spreadeagled in stirrups. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I faxed their office my favorite HAES article, and that was the end of our working relationship.

Speaking of horrible, HORRIBLE experiences with doctors, two endocrinologists ago, I met with a new doctor. See, my previous endo had moved her practice to a hospital two hours away. The endo before her had retired. I met with this new doctor, explained to them my current symptoms (fatigue, brain fog, anxiety), and they told me, and I quote, "You have a thyroid disorder. You're never going to feel good." I started shaking with rage.

Fired. I found another endocrinologist who took one look at my bloodwork and started treating me for my acute anemia. A few weeks later, I started to feel good again. When I called to schedule an annual appointment with My New Favorite Doctor, I learned the Philadelphia office was closed and they had moved back to New Jersey. I called every endocrinologist in the city, to be told by some that they only see diabetics now. Finally, I found one willing to take a new non-diabetic patient! Their earliest appointment was in July. This was in March. What other option did I have?

But I've been so tired lately. The company who makes my iron pills went bankrupt, and my current supplement is not working. There has to be an alternative therapy, there just has to be. I caved. I called Dr. Never-Feelgood. Then, the morning of my appointment, I canceled. I was too sick to go to the doctor that day.
Tagged:
Ha!
( Jun. 8th, 2009 11:21 am)
Know this: I am aware how humorless is this blog. My friend told me, laughing, "I'm so sorry you've had SUCH a tough life." Ha. Ha, ha, ha. Yeah, I know. How egotistical to think anyone would care about what I say.

It feels strange writing about serious issues. It feels strange talking about events that shame, remove from the normative mainstream, draw attention to topics difficult to admit. When I encounter dumbasses, I laugh off their trash. What else can I do? Shall I live my life brooding over every single racist, sexist, ignorant slight?

Of course not. I mostly ignore stupid people. Mostly. This blog is a place of acknowledgment. The pain is real. No, it is not all-encompassing. I have developed coping mechanisms to counteract the daily bullshit. But the pain is real!

Racism still exists, post-civil rights movement. Sexism is real, post-feminism. Fatphobia is real of course, because we are still pre-fat acceptance, and it is still acceptable to fear & loathe the sick and disabled. I deal with all of these, so thank you for acknowledging my struggle.

So. Why should I silence my small voice? So what if this blog is difficult to read? So what if you think I'm whining? Should I stop talking about all this (before I've even really started)?

I am embarrassed to be seen as a whiner, complaining about things beyond my control. I was ashamed when my friend teased and when my brother questioned. What right do I have to blog about personal politics? Why now?

Why not? If you find me troubling, disturbing, uppity, ungrateful, well...to paraphrase Biscuit from the Big Boys, "Go start your own blog." Or hell, challenge me in the comments. You can post anonymously (screened only for spam & viruses), or you can use your OpenID.

I welcome criticism, I embrace discussion, and I am amused by snark. Have at me! And please, be sure to tell your friends.
Tagged:
accomplished
( May. 28th, 2009 02:23 pm)
Welcome.

Welcome home.

Welcome, third culture kids, born in one place, raised in another. One world has an Abuela, the other has a Grandmother. Fresh off the boat. Hot off the presses. Translating American for your father. Explaining Eddie Murphy to your mother. Listening to your classmates ask you, why do they talk like that? No one else's parents roll their RRs.

And why does she look like that? Mami is round every place your teacher is sharp. Teacher is tall, thin, blonde, but Mami is short, round, and dark. No, not dark...olive. It's an olive complexion. It's complicated.

Look at your tan! You must never burn. I'm so jealous. Why does your daddy talk like that? Why does he say 'tree' for 'three'? Does he speak English? Can't he count? It's complicated.

Why does your mommy look like that? Why is her hair so short? She looks like a man. You're so lucky she let you pierce your ears. It's not fair.

Momma, why are they so weird? They eat weird foods. Maybe that's why they're so weird. If I eat beans, will I look like *that*? I don't want her to use my hairbrush. Clean it out, look at her hair in there! I don't want dark hair like that. Crying, crying, it's not fair.

And I cried and cried too, but I was angry, not afraid. Twenty-five years later, I'm still angry, but I've stopped crying. Now I'm the one who's afraid. So, welcome.

Welcome to my new blog where I write publicly and politically about my experiences. I hope you'll share in my discussion about topics such as your hair falling out because of your thyroid disorder, your mother following you into the yard yelling and ready to hit you again with her chancla, your dad's accounting job relocating your family every seven years, wearing men's clothes when your hips spread and your breasts arrive because plus-size wasn't an option, and feeling like no matter what you did or said you'd never fit in.

I'm a fat (yes, FAT. I don't sugarcoat it (unless the recipe calls)) woman with a host of autoimmune disorders, born in Puerto Rico to Puerto Ricans (whatever THAT means) but raised in Texas, living in a segregated "city of neighborhoods" (uh HUH), punk rock anti-capitalist, librarian scooterist.

Who are you? Why are you here? Thank you. You are welcome.
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