It’s March! I can’t believe I’ve lost an entire month to my sickie-sickness. Bummer, man.
I chatted with a friend a little bit yesterday and tried my best to avoid talking about anything related my three-ring shit-show. I’ve been ignoring her since, I dunno, September? You may recall I was invited to be in her wedding, but shit happened. She’s at the same anxiety level as my Mom and as such, she sort of floats on the outskirts of being in the know in order to prevent a freak out. I feel like an asshole for pushing her away even if I believe it’s for her own good. She asked me how I’m doing and I was like, “Uh, I don’t know. Okay? Maybe?” She was amply confused. How does a person not know how they’re doing/feeling? I haven’t a clue. That’s just how it is.
Mom left early Monday morning because her manchild was in need of help. He is in the process of having his mouth rebuilt and has to take valium prior to dental appointments. Rather than asking one of my siblings who lives nearby to drive him, he demanded Mom take him, so here I am. A punk, alone in the Universe.
I started having some pretty wild abdominal pain again toward the end of the weekend, followed by another high fever. I had an ultrasound that showed a nifty collection of funk near my surgical site. The evil collective was unsure if it was a simple abscess or if the IC anastomosis (the place where my bowel was resected) had begun to leak. A leak would have meant additional surgery. Fuuuuuck. I had a CT and it looked okay, so I went to interventional radiology to have the abscess aspirated, then had a small drain put in. I had to start an antibiotic cocktail all over again and once I’m off levaquin, I have to continue low-dose flagyl for at least two months. Yuck. This is about the time I’m supposed to start Remicade but apparently heart failure, active infection and Remicade don’t mix. I don’t think anything mixes with Remicade.
I’ve still got people breathing down my neck over my recurrent arrhythmias that refuse to respond to medication because that’s how I roll.
Migraines, muscles spasms, fuck me. The neurologist had me switched to a different steroid a little over a week ago to treat this neurological condition I allegedly have called Neuromyelitis Optica. I don’t know that I agree with his assessment/diagnosis. It could be that I don’t want to agree with his assessment. Not accepting a diagnosis means I don’t have it (the disease). 😉 I’ve tried a couple of different muscle relaxants for the spasms and haven’t had issue with excessive respiratory depression, which is what they were afraid would happen. In fact, I’m super pissed off that this option wasn’t made available to me years ago.
I remember practically begging my primary care doctor for advice on how to get the spasms to stop six years ago. She told me to take magnesium oxide. Guess what? Shit didn’t help. I took calcium, drank a ton of water and ate salty foods. It wasn’t an electrolyte issue. I’ve been dealing with this off and on for 8 years. It’s on a very limited list of things that can make me cry, at least in the context of pain. Perhaps the problem has been neurological all along.
I’m completely thrashed. Tired, exhausted, dead…pick one. Minus the days I’m doped up, I’ve been pretty good about staying awake until it’s an acceptable time for sleep (or sometimes much later than is acceptable). Recently, it’s all I can do to stay awake. There’s no point in fighting it, although not being wide fucking awake at 2am is kind of nice. I’ll take sleep whenever I can get it.