I Have a Cold…and I Love It

Okay, I know that seems odd, but there is a reason I’m in love with the fact that I have a pretty nasty cold. In the past couple of years, when I would get a virus, I would get a flare. The flare would inevitably be worse than the virus. Prior to IVIG, I had a headache, and I just shrugged it off. Behcet’s and headaches are just hand in hand for me. Then after IVIG I had what I classify as an IVIG headache. I felt just, well, sh*tty for a couple of days. That is normal, from what I’ve read. Even if the rheumatologist’s temporary coverage felt as though I should have made some miraculous turn around, I knew from what I’ve read, and what I’ve heard first hand from other patients, that it would take some time.

Then I realized I had a cold.

I was sleeping a lot, had a little fever, and attributed it all to the IVIG. Except, the sleeping eased up, as did the headache, and my nose was bleeding and stuffy. I blamed the weather. I had a migraine, which happens to me when the weather shifts. I blamed a lot of stuff because I didn’t want to believe the IVIG wasn’t working. This morning, it dawned on me. I have a cold. I have a gross cold, and my gastroparesis is acting up because my appetite came back, and I overate.

Folks, my appetite came back. 

I haven’t been hungry in months, and suddenly having that drive to eat again was so bizarre. I will always have gastroparesis, my celiac artery is blocked, and it can’t be opened. I also have a history of GI issues that just bogs the system down…but my intestines are moving again which is the main reason (I feel) that I wasn’t hungry. For me the delayed stomach emptying causes gastritis, acid reflux, and bloating/pain. The lower GI ulcers kill my appetite, cause pain and bleeding, and just generally make me miserable. That seems to be tied in more closely with the Behcet’s.

Beware: I’m about to discuss poop.

I have been pooping. Not as often as “normal” folks, but I am pooping. Prior to IVIG I was going 10-14 days between bowel movements, and those movements were pathetic. Nausea, pain, blacking out, just total brutality, for the smallest bowel movement. Doctors often accused me of “pushing too hard,” but I never pushed. Why push when there isn’t anything causing any urge to push? Lately I’ve been panicking when the urge to go hits me. It sort of comes out of nowhere, and is like, “YOU HAVE TO GO NOW!” Of course, it isn’t that dire. (Except when I ate a gummy edible containing gluten. I got horrendously sick, pooped my pants, and couldn’t figure out why. Later it dawned on me that gummy candy often contains gluten, so I checked, and yup, the edible was the culprit.)

My point is actually pooping is weird, and it shouldn’t be, but it is. I am torn between excitement and nausea. I’ve tried explaining it to healthy friends, but only a similarly GI sick friend understands it. When you just don’t go to the bathroom often, your body can’t really handle the sensation. My nervous system is so used to not feeling anything positive from my gut, that even a normal bowel movement is misinterpreted (at least that’s how it feels.) Hopefully with time I can get used to them again, and hopefully they remain consistent. Even going just 1-2 times a week is an improvement right now.

I have to talk to my rheumatologist about putting in an order for a port, even though I know she will fight me on it. The reality is that I’m existing in a state of malnourishment, or dehydration. The only reason I’m not currently losing weight is that I stay on top of calories, and my thyroid gave up working. It isn’t a healthy way to prevent weight loss, and I’m still losing loads of muscle. I can’t do my infusions 2x per week for fluids and vitamins, unless it isn’t an IVIG week. Even the week after IVIG is dodgy, since they have to use two different veins for IVIG (unless I go home with the IV in place. This is something I’m not comfortable with because of issues with phlebitis and clotting. I just don’t personally feel it is a good fit for me. I’m also sure my dogs would find a way to hurt it.)

The other issue I’ve run into, emotionally, is the expectation others have that I’ll be miraculously healed by IVIG. IVIG is a treatment protocol, it isn’t a cure. There may be a day when I can go off of it and be in remission, but going off of it is risky. With neurological issues involved, it just isn’t something I’m overly in a rush to test out. Some people spent their lives on IVIG. I will need medications for nausea, I will need IVIG, I will need my wheelchair at times (though hopefully less as time goes on). The damage done to my autonomic nervous system isn’t all fixable, in fact, some issues will definitely remain, and that is okay.

IVIG wasn’t about a cure. It was about survival.

I have a tendency to downplay the seriousness of symptoms when talking with friends and family. It’s something my family has a tendency to do. There are issues we still need to address with me cardiovascular wise that I put on the back burner. They’re likely related to the autonomic stuff, but we just won’t know until we look into it. The biggest question mark is the swing in my heart rate. I have some serious bradycardia sometimes, and it is sort of terrifying. I don’t think about it unless I’m on a heart monitor, and I’m setting it off, but it’s taxing on your heart to get super low, and then go back to normal or even into tachycardia. Again, I’m hoping IVIG fixes things by stopping the onslaught against my autonomic nervous system.

I Have a Cold…and I Love It

Flare City – Autoimmune Blister and Staph Infection

It’s no secret that I’ve been stuck in a pretty constant flare that only seems to be getting worse. The only option I have is to wait for my insurance to approve IVIG. We’ve done one steroid dose pack and I’m preparing for a second. To make things even more fun, my rheumatologist is out on maternity leave, and my insurance company was taken over by another company (it’s a contract deal). The transition hasn’t been smooth, to the point where I can’t even call and get a hold of someone at my insurance company…and I’ve even trying for six weeks.

Yes folks, you read that properly, I haven’t been able to speak to a human being at my insurance company for over six weeks.

While this may annoy the average 31-year-old insured individual, it’s definitely not the best when you’re in the middle of complex insurance approval processes. My chair is coming on Monday (if I can work out a payment plan), but IVIG still remains in limbo. My rheumatologist’s replacement suggested I switch to another practice, something that was discussed a year ago but discarded as I prefer my rheumatologist, and the university hospital nearby has a horrid chief of rheumatology (or at least did a year ago). Point is, I like my rheumatologist, she just happened to have a baby the same time period where my insurance company went to shit.

I was dealing with the increased gastroparesis symptoms, the GI bleeding, the fatigue, all of it…and then something new for me happened. I woke up last weekend, with a blister on my hand. It was just a little thing, but over the course of the day it got worse and worse. There was speculation on my part, and my friends’ parts, over what caused this blister. The best we could come up with is that my hot water bottle somehow burned me, but I didn’t wake up, and the bottle doesn’t have a leak. Moreover, I haven’t ever had an issue with it. So this blister just keeps getting worse, and eventually it takes over my entire knuckle and is working down into my hand.

I’m being eaten by a blister of unknown origin.

My friend Mike is a chef, and he informs me that I need to ignore everyone else’s advice and just pop it, throw some antibacterial ointment on it, and go about my life. I call him stupid until the thing begins to get so big I don’t have much of a choice. I was not having that thing pop in my sleep, and realistically I’m too clumsy not to bump it on something and randomly (and disgustingly) pop it unexpectedly.


I pop it, and it’s not really anything special. I throw some bacitracin on it, and call it a day. The next day it’s tender, but not abnormal, and I keep it open so it can heal, but I’m careful to keep it clean, or so I thought. The next few days are a blur because I wasn’t feeling well in general, and I had an allergist appointment. What I do remember is looking at the spot where the blister had been, and being in denial that it was infected…until the day I went to the allergist, when I realized it was scabbing over pus filled portions, and literally creating an abscess.

Double gross.

I went from my allergist to my primary care doctor, who promptly told me I was correct, and it was definitely infected. He also informed me that autoimmune blistering is an actual thing. My body literally attacked the layers of my skin, creating a blister because it just destroyed a section on my hand. He gave me a prescription for antibiotics, but by the next day it was worse. Way worse. The night I’d gotten antibiotics it had worsened to the point where I had a thin layer of skin covering what was undoubtedly my tendon.

You shouldn’t be able to watch your tendons move, and while it was disturbing, I will admit it was kind of cool. Still, I don’t recommend it.

My doctor calls after I take another dose of the antibiotics that were already making me feel like total hell. Apparently I have a multi-drug resistant staph-infection, and while it isn’t MRSA, it doesn’t matter, because I’m allergic to all drugs ending in -cillin. Yay. We’ve established it’s getting rapidly worse, because I’m taking a boatload of immune suppressing drugs, even though they’re not doing a great job at treating my Behcet’s anyhow. Fantastic universe. So I’m sent to the ER.

The ER wasn’t too busy because of the time of day I went in. They ended up wanting an MRI because there was a chance my joint and tendon were infected, but thankfully they weren’t. That would have meant being admitted and going on IV drugs for a few days. I was given an IV push of an antibiotic (but honestly can’t remember the name), and send home on Keflex. I hate Keflex because of the nausea it  causes, but I don’t have much of a choice because of my allergies. Another issue I have with Keflex is kind of weird. It makes me really drowsy, and actually gives me a fever. Not a high fever, but around 100-101, which also makes me feel crappy.

If that weren’t enough, I’ve been dealing with stress over finances, namely insurance funds, and coming up with the money for moving and medical equipment. Life should be easier when I have less rent to pay, but saving up the money to pay insurance installments three months at a time, is going to be really hard. This rough patch also doesn’t help.

Can we address the reality that my body is flaring, and there is a decent chance that the stress made it worse…and my body blistered itself. 

I’m still sort of in awe that a body is capable of doing something like that. I think most of us who deal with autoimmune issues, have moments where we’re shocked at the destructive power of our own bodies. I’ve witnessed countless things, including losing the ability to move because of hyperactive reflexes, but somehow this one blister was more intense for me. I think there was something about being able to actually see with my eyes what my body was capable of. It was as though I was in some long cold war, and then someone dropped the first bomb. I was aware I was in a flare, I knew what was going on inside of my body, but seeing it externally was a whole new game. I’ve got an oral ulcer, and a few other external signs I’m flaring, but there was something about a blister that just felt different.

My roommate has reminded me to relax, that he’s handling the movers and the moving fees, but I’ve never had to rely so much on others, and it’s definitely taking it’s toll. For now I guess it’s all I can do. IVIG can’t come fast enough.

Flare City – Autoimmune Blister and Staph Infection

ER Drama

My flare reached new levels, and once I realized I couldn’t eat or drink enough to prevent passing out, I went to the ER. Actually, I went to the ER because of that, and some persistent lower left quadrant pain and bleeding. (I also spiked a fever which was present at my doctor’s office, but ran away in time for ER arrival. Thanks.)

The first ER I went to on Tuesday. They treated me like absolute garbage. I was accused of being a drug addict even though I explained my bad veins were the result of my Behcet’s and repeated sticks and infusions. Despite them having my chart, including an admission to their affiliated hospital a little over a year ago, I was repeatedly asked what drugs I inject.

Thank for making me feel worse about myself, and for avoiding the actual reason I’m in your damn ER.

So I wait, and wait, and they put in an IV but don’t flush it…like ever…which for me means it’s borderline useless. I’m in the waiting room, with at least 40 people, and the room is made for at least half that number. People are crying, coughing, the whole plethora of possibilities. For better or worse, I’m in and out of it because I’m just so dizzy. I want IV fluids more than I’ve ever wanted them before in my life. Then, I realize I’m going to faint. I’d been waiting for over two hours at this point, I’ve asked for zofran, but wasn’t given any. I had a partial seizure, and then another, and I realize I need to tell someone, but the triage nurse keeps disappearing into the back leaving all of us sick folks to fend for ourselves (unless you’re mobile which I wasn’t).

I manage to show him the word “epilepsy” on my emergency application on my phone. (During partial seizures I often know what I want to say, but I lose the ability to say it.) He understands me, but then does nothing.

Yes folks, I tell this man via pointing that I’m going to seize, and he just sort of acknowledges me, then walks away. Thanks.

The partial intensifies and now the whole room looks funky, and I’m overcome with this sense of fear I’ve never experienced. Usually I kind of just let go and let my brain and body do what they have to do, there isn’t a point in fighting the inevitable, but this time I really fought it. Perhaps not the best idea. I wake up in the back, and I can’t get nurses and doctors back on track. I get it, I had a seizure, but I don’t remember any of it. I offer to go wait in the waiting room again. I literally was like, “Hey, I know you’re busy, I’m still woozy, but I’m not here for this, so can we just get me back to waiting for my turn?”

I ended up leaving after six hours, with no fluids, no medications other than seizure drugs, and no answers.

Wednesday rolls around and I’m sent to another ER. This time they were much nicer, but things still got shady. My lab work was normal, but per my PCM’s instructions, I got steroids. Beyond grateful! There were some hiccups, namely they were out of small IV bags so they had to push reglan slow through my IV. Between the steroids and the reglan, I got massive jitters. I was told I was being admitted and that I’d be meeting with the rheumatology team at that hospital the following day. Then things got sketchy.

I was going to be sharing a room. Not the end of the world, but not ideal when you’re immune compromised. We get to the room, and I realize sleeping with the TV on means annoying my bunkmate. I told myself I’d use my phone. As I’m trying to process all of this, I realize that the nurses are confused. The other patient is on precautions! She’s coughing in her sleep, on the other side of a flimsy curtain, and the nurses scan’t sort out why someone on reverse precautions (me) would be in a room with a patient on flu precautions (her).

I am not spending the night in the hospital with normal labs, if it means sharing a room with a flu patient!

This kicks off a debate between me and the nurses. Why am I even taking up bed space? They can’t control my nausea adequately in the hospital because there is a limit on nausea drugs in terms of dosages. I metabolize them fast, and end up constantly nauseas an annoyed by it. I’m going to be sharing a room, while vomiting, with someone who has the flu? No thanks.

To be honest a large part of it was just steroid induced panic. Had they shown up and medicated me, I’d have been okay(ish), but it just didn’t make any sense to me. Why spend the night, try and talk to a whole new rheumatology team in the morning, and expose myself to the flu amongst other nosocomial infections?

I haven’t talked to my doctor since leaving AMA. Yes, folks, I left against medical advice..only not really. The only reason I was admitted was because my PCM was worried, but the labs confirmed I didn’t have sepsis (his worry) and the doctor who was in charge of actually admitting me agreed I was fine to go home. His superior didn’t want to take the risk, hence I had to sign out AMA.

Why would they put a reverse precautions patient in with a patient who was contagious enough that nursing staff had to wear masks around her? I know the hospitals are overrun with flu cases, but that doesn’t mean that chronically ill folks should have to forgo proper care. I do wish I could have seen a rheumatology team and perhaps pushed for quicker treatment via steroids and IVIG, but they wouldn’t have been able to approve the IVIG quickly. Also, three days of high dose steroids, in hospital, while sharing a room with someone highly contagious? That is such a bad idea.

The lesson is go to your usual hospital for these things. My doctor had hoped one of the two big centers could have placed my port, but that wasn’t going to happen either, not unless it was a prolonged admission with the start of IVIG included.

That’s been the last few days! I have phlebitis in my left arm from all the sticking, and I’m still sore overall. I have been able to eat fries and tots for some reason, but only in small amounts. Carbonated water and Sonic slushes have definitely been saving me, too. I said a lot of stuff this past week that I regret, most of it due to lack of usual medication, and the addition of emergency ones. I also couldn’t think clearly because of the lack of nutrition. Now I’m stuck in this place where I regret so much of what I said, but I can’t easily take any of it back.

I wish people understood that not everyone with chronic illnesses handles emergent situations the same way, and even people who seem strong on the outside, can fall apart in strenuous circumstances.

I suppose time will tell if friends forgive me and support me still. All in all it was a really rough week, and I’m glad that it’s over. I’m hoping I’ll get some good news next week, and that I find the forgiveness of my friends, too.

ER Drama

Family Planning (NSFW-ish)

Okay folks, there will be some basic biology talk in this post so if you don’t want to read about any of that, I’ll see you next blog 🙂


Ah yes, birth control. That thing you wanted until you turned 30, then immediately wanted to burn so you could start a family with the guy of your dreams…just kidding, this isn’t a sitcom. I was put on the pill at 16 because I had periods that were brutal. It turned out that I had really bad ovarian cysts. I was on the pill from 2002 until 2014. I wasn’t on anything for a little over a year. Then, after a year and a half (or so), I got an IUD. There is my birth control journey in a nutshell. There were different types of pills involved, but because of my cyst issues (and what turned out to be endometriosis) I needed high dose oral contraceptives. I went off for a little over a year because I wanted to see if cysts were still an issue, and while they were, the endometriosis was really more of an issue than the cysts were. At the time it wasn’t diagnosed, though. Once I kicked the pill, my doctor felt comfortable with the diagnosis. So how does this all fit into Behcet’s?

For starters, there is an awkward give and take with the whole birth control issue. Most of my medications are contraindicated in pregnancy. Some are actually so bad for pregnancy, I had to prove I was taking reliable measures to avoid becoming pregnant. Of course my family history of blood clots, and having vasculitis, meant I was pushing the limits of estrogen containing birth control pills. My doctor had told me that being on birth control pills that contained estrogen, was a surefire way to get a blood clot.

I really didn’t want a blood clot.

I was able to forgo birth control entirely because I had failed to get control over periods using non-estrogen containing oral contraceptives. They had wanted to use an IUD, but I was super afraid at the time. I also knew that I wanted children in the next five years. At the time I was with someone who had lab work that showed issues, issues that would make conception without intervention highly unlikely. The chances were low enough that, when presented with the numbers, my gynecologist was comfortable enough with me going sans birth control, despite being on medication that usually required me to be on birth control.

Score one for male factor infertility.

I don’t do drama, so for the record, my ex did go on to have an adorable baby boy with his gorgeous girlfriend. While we were together I was informed given the information at my disposal, that we could not have children. Indeed, I was able to stay off of birth control for well over a year, without a pregnancy. 

Now, for so many years the goal of life was to avoid pregnancy. Let’s me honest, for most of us that’s how it goes. We try to avoid pregnancies, until all of a sudden we realize we want kids. Some people are lucky enough to avoid pregnancy, then become pregnant, when they find it convenient. Other people find themselves getting pregnant when they didn’t plan on it, or struggling to get pregnant at all. Then there are the weird sick women out there, who have the added benefit of having to seriously plan out pregnancies because of illnesses and medications.

Doctors have had various recommendations for me. Some have looked at the research and been comfortable with my proclamation that I want children some day. For many women with Behcet’s, pregnancy brings a relief from symptoms. Doctors don’t really know why, but Behcet’s symptoms, and even the disease itself, tend to lessen during pregnancy, and even shortly afterwards. Of course some women have worsening symptoms during pregnancy, and more have issues following the birth of their children, but there was hope.

Other doctors have acted like I’m insane. The medications alone make it a really risky idea. I would have to stop certain medications for a certain period of time, but also be able to start pregnancy safe medications within that time, to keep all my symptoms in check. A seizure during pregnancy would be really bad. Gastroparesis makes me nauseas and struggling to feed myself adequately, how in the world will I be able to nourish a growing baby? They point at the unknowns genetically in terms of how many people in my family have autoimmune ailments. Of course there is no guarantee that I’ll be passing anything along.

The rest fall somewhere in the middle, which I feel is the right place to be. I definitely don’t expect to have an easy go of it, but I would like to have at least one or two children of my own. I would love an adopted child, or a stepchild, just as much, but there is something about a biological child that does call to me. I’ve definitely considered IVF with a surrogate, but that is an expensive route. It’s also the safest in terms of what would be best for the baby. (Think about it, my body does a poor job of keeping me alive, entrusting it with a fetus seems terrifying to me.) A surrogacy would also mean I could stay on a lot of my medications, or at least go back on medications sooner. (Some medications you cannot be taking because they pass along birth defects via the egg, so I would have to stop those prior to egg harvesting.)

Is this a fun read or what…

I know my best chance at having a healthy biological child, is via a surrogate, but it doesn’t make thinking about it any less daunting. I mean, I was married, I’m in the process of getting a divorce, I’ll be 32 in April…and there is a timeline on fertility. I didn’t do myself any favors with the chemo. (I still don’t know if there was damage to my eggs, but again, that’s not something I can really know without specific fertility testing. My insurance only covers fertility tests if you’ve been trying to conceive for a period of time without success.

I’m pretty sure I don’t meet the qualifications of trying for any period of time, given the fact that I’m painfully single.

Another issue for me is that I did have early stage cervical cancer. They removed a pretty decent size of my cervix, and the location has made it more likely for me to experience issues with premature labor. So, you know, as if it weren’t enough to have Behcet’s with heavy GI involvement including gastroparesis…I had to go and get cervical cancer, too. Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond grateful that it was caught early, and that I only needed local surgery instead of a more invasive surgery and chemotherapy. It just would have been nice if I could have avoided cancer all together.

Doing six months of chemotherapy, then getting diagnosed with cancer? Yeah, that’s only something that happens in my life.

This is another rambling blog, but today was infusion day, and I’m in that weird headspace of sleepy, but full of vitamins. I hope I find someone someday who can love me, illnesses and all. I also hope that they want children (or already have children) and are supportive of whatever pathway to parenthood we choose together. It may not be conventional, but that’s okay. Right now I do have an IUD. It was placed before I was diagnosed with cancer, and I’m thrilled with it. It controls my endometriosis issues, and I don’t know it’s even there. There isn’t a worry for me regarding pregnancy, which is important still with all the medications I’m taking. With my nausea issues, vomiting, and malabsorption, it was time to get something that didn’t rely on another pill I would have to remember to take. Plus, no estrogen!

Family Planning (NSFW-ish)

Dieting With Gastroparesis?

Okay, so that phrase seems counterintuitive, right? It is…but it isn’t. During chemotherapy I gained a substantial amount of weight. I needed to gain weight, but not as much as I did. I went from 120 pounds to 195 pounds. Ideally I’d love to hang out around 145. Currently I way 170. That 35 pound drop? Yeah, I got myself down to 190, but the other 30 is from gastroparesis.

So how the hell do I diet. I mean, I want to lose weight, but not because I’m not eating.

There isn’t really an easy answer. I eat what I can, when I can, and I try and make sure that the food I’m eating is easy to digest, but nutrient dense. It isn’t easy. Protein bars, protein cookies, etc., are all options, but sometimes the protein is really hard for me to process. Lately I’ve been doing toast with some butter and honey.

Today I’ve had two pieces of toast with honey, and two little pieces of soft fresh mozzarella cheese. 

That isn’t enough. I also wasn’t supposed to be eating the cheese, but I had a moment of hunger, and just went with it. The problem is that I’m so full, and haven’t had much to drink at all. That’s the other issue with gastroparesis (for me) is that I often find myself choosing between food and water. I know I need water, but I also need to keep my blood sugar up. Again, I go to honey. I have hot lemon water with honey. I think I’m just hoping the honey will keep my blood sugar up, while also tasting good and giving me some calories.

Yes, I want calories. 

This is where people can go down very different roads. Some people, like myself, want control over intake and output. I want my exercise and calories, to be well matched. I don’t want to lose weight too fast. I know that I need to keep muscle on, and burn fat. If I’m losing too much weight, I’m losing muscle, and telling my body to store fat. Others go down a very different path. They see the massive weight loss gastroparesis is providing, and they lean into it. It becomes an excuse for intentional disordered eating.

If you have a digestive order, and you’re using the symptoms or medications to help lose weight intentionally, please talk with your doctor. 

Some conditions and some medications cause weight loss, but you should be working with your doctor and your nutritionist to mitigate the impact of this. Being sick is not a good way to lose weight. I was 120 pounds because of gastroparesis. I gained weight during chemotherapy because of the drugs I was getting, including steroids. I also developed a ravenous appetite for sweets. I would eat a little bit, all day, and I could process the gluten free vegan options…so that’s what I ate.

Look, I’m not going to rationalize my weight loss or gain. The reality is I should have been receiving better care before I got to 120 pounds, but I honestly didn’t even realize I was that thin. I was so focused on the symptoms, and because I didn’t feel hungry, it didn’t dawn on me that it was an issue. Friends would make comments, and eventually I realized that I was wearing dress sizes and pant sizes that I had never worn. Sitting in a dressing room, holding a small and extra small, when you’re as tall as I am, can be a sobering moment. I remember thinking that I’d wanted to lose weight, but being utterly confused how I’d gotten so thin.

I don’t get hungry, so I try to be mindful of my nutritional and caloric needs. I am 100% sure that I’m deficient, but I’m not negligent.

I get infusions of vitamins and amino acids, because I cannot take in these specific vitamins and amino acids, by mouth. I’m also dealing with periodic malabsorption. I have ulcers in my intestines that prevent adequate absorption, and I also have sections of intestines that just don’t move properly, again, contributing to malabsorption.

It’s funny because I have moments where I’m just matter-of-fact about my gastroparesis. “No thank you, I can’t eat. I have gastroparesis, so I’m still full from breakfast,” she says at 8pm. Then there are other moments, where I get defensive. I’ve been told that not eating sufficiently, for x amount of days, makes me anorexic. There was a heated exchange because anorexia has a physical impact on your body, but ultimately it’s a disease of the mind. Gastroparesis can lead to anorexia, or contribute to anorexia, and severe enough anorexia can even lead to gastroparesis (or at least issues similar.) Someone who has gastroparesis, and loses weight because of it, is not automatically anorexic.

I want to lose weight. I do not want to use my illness to lose weight. I acknowledge that my weight loss is unhealthy, and I do everything in my power to slow down the weight loss, as well as to supplement nutritionally and calorically. 

We can go back and forth for the rest of our lives, but ultimately the important thing is achieving health. I want to be able to work out. I want to be able to eat salads again. I want so many things. The last thing I want, is my gastroparesis to decide my body shape, and for me to have to go along with whatever the disease decides.

Dieting With Gastroparesis?

Vitamin Infusions, Movie Plans, Poops (Literally Talking About Poops)

So I was able to get my next round of vitamins today, which was good because I was seriously dragging. I went to bed last night at 7pm, was asleep before 8:30, and could have slept longer this morning had my dogs not made it clear that they were ready to get up. Still, I got a solid 12 hours or so. I had planned on seeing a matinee today, Star Wars, but still felt too sluggish to make it. (My infusion was at 11:30, and the movie started at 3:40. I had hoped, well let’s be blunt, that I would need to poop after the infusion. Sadly, I didn’t get that urge, which was something I had gotten the last two times.

Living life chronically constipated, kind of really sucks.

I used to have issues with diarrhea, and I remember always thinking anything had to be better than running to the bathroom all the time. Then I learned how much not being able to go, seriously sucked. Turns out when you’re constipated, but can only form a partial obstruction, you get diarrhea around the backed up stool. You don’t know fun, until you have the pain of severe constipation, with all the added horror of having diarrhea (sometimes even in your pants.)

We haven’t found a good option for handling this, because I’m a walking contraindication to conventional treatments, and a walking example of all things that can cause diarrhea. When someone can drink half a bottle of Miralax, and not go to the bathroom, you know there is a problem. I recognize that moving more would make me go easier, but I cannot move as much as required because I’m so fatigued and nauseas. Lately I’ve decided the gas is worth it, if it gets things moving, and I’ve started eating dairy. Dairy, for whatever reason, seems to aggravate whatever is causing the GI bleeding.

So, do I want to bleed but go, potentially bleed but not go, or not bleed but definitely not go?

Life is fun.

Back to the movie…with my luck I’ll go, but then suddenly get the urge to poop. This isn’t an easy thing to deal with. First, let’s say I do actually have to go. Going in public isn’t easy for me, nor is going after being stopped up. There is also the risk that the urge doesn’t result in actually going, but does cause bleeding. Biggest issue, for me, is that I’d be buying a ticket, and missing some of the movie. This is Star Wars, and I am a nerd. The only reason I haven’t seen it yet was because of how sick I was feeling, and how sick people in general have been. I can’t imagine sitting through an entire movie with a mask on, so I had to wait.

Tonight, at 7 or 10pm. I’m not being hard on myself, though. I fatigue, nausea, or pain, become too much, then I’ll see if I can see it tomorrow. This is an autoimmune disease. My body is attacking itself (or so they theorize anyhow). How I handle it is how I handle it, because my disease is my disease. What works for me, may work for others, but ultimately each of us needs to figure out what our treatment plan looks like.

During chemotherapy I explained to my mother, that chemo patients are all different. Even two people receiving the same drugs, can have different sets of symptoms. I lost my hair, largely because I was severely malnourished prior to chemotherapy, and I had tapered off very high doses of steroids. The combination caused hair loss, including bald patches, ultimately causing me to decide to shave my head. I also had major issues with nausea. This was likely because I had severe nausea prior to chemotherapy, and had begun to eat different foods during chemotherapy. I also was much more susceptible to the drug than we had expected. I ended up with very low red blood cell counts, platelets, white cells, everything. The doctors were floored, and I was given less of the drug during my next infusion. I had been expected to get an increased dose, but that would never need to happen.

So hopefully I wil have more energy, less nausea, and less GI pain. Hopefully I will go see a movie that I have been waiting weeks to see. Hopefully I will be in a relatively empty theater, so I don’t need to wear a mask the entire time. Hopefully the people working won’t give me grief over my hot water bottle, so I can hopefully get abdominal relief, and back pain relief, through the duration of the film.

May 2018 is the year of “hopefully,” and I’m okay with that.

I told myself 2017 would be the year of treatments, and remission. I set myself up for a let down. So, while I’m hopeful that IVIG will provide me with good results, and less side effects, I recognize that nothing is 100% certain. I can have hope, without losing all rational thinking. Hopefully IVIG will work, and hopefully I’ll need less assistive devices. Hopefully I can get back to working. Hopefully I can throw myself into self improvement, and socialization.

Tonight it starts with hopefully seeing a movie. Tomorrow is another day.

Vitamin Infusions, Movie Plans, Poops (Literally Talking About Poops)

Wheelchair Waiting

In my brain there is a list of things I have to get done. In my body there is a list of system failures that prevent me from doing the things I need to do. Us sick folks tend to triage our lives, but not all of us are aware that we’re even doing it. I put school, the dogs, and anyone who needs me, first. My social life has died a slow death over the last few years. It started with a bad relationship, then my illnesses slowly but surely made it harder and harder to socialize.

When my falling and fatigue became really bad, and the doctors started discussing mobility assistance beyond my walker, I was angry. I didn’t want to be “the girl in a wheelchair.” I also didn’t want to have to explain to people why I was in a wheelchair when I could walk. I used to take my dog down to the waterfront, and back. It was a 20-30 minute walk each way, and now I can’t go more than a block. Some days a block requires 2-3 breaks to complete.

Did I want mobility or anonymity? I could either be the girl who takes her dog to the waterfront, or someone nobody knows, because I don’t bother to leave the house. 

Today I’ve made peace with it, even with people who may ask why I have it. I know people and places that I used to commute to on foot. Now I’m waiting for the free ride system to come around, or I’m paying for ride sharing apps. I’d much rather explain that I traversed the distance in my chair, so that I could do something like go to a movie, and walk the mall afterwards, or even go putt putt golfing. There will still be days when I simply don’t have the energy to do anything, but at least with the chair I would be saving energy as often as possible.

I keep thinking about my thesis course that starts in a month. I’ll have to be on campus once per week for 2+ months. Once I have the chair, I’m not worried about it. As it stands right now, I am worried. Walking to and from the bus stop, is a challenge. The last time I did it, I started to pass out during class, and had to leave early. The chair, as constraining as it may seem, actually gives me more freedom.

Today that’s all I can think about. I want to go see a movie, but I simply can’t muster up the energy. The plan is to go see it tomorrow after I get my vitamin infusions. (Barring of course, any major allergic reactions!) I still can’t wait for IVIG, either. I hate throwing all of my hope on one treatment option, but it’s really all we have left, so it’s what I would like to start doing as soon as we can.

Head up.

Chin up.


Wheelchair Waiting