I have been to the doctor about 10 times since Christmas because of a cold, then a virus, then a sinus infection. In a nutshell, I am miserable.
However, I didn't know exactly HOW miserable I was going to get. The doctor blindsided me today. It went something like this:
"um...Lara....we ran some blood tests because you've been unable to shake this infection you have."
I nod. I know it -- it's doctor speak. I'm fine. But here comes the question that sends the hairs on the back of my neck to a 90 degree angle.
"Do you have a history of diabetes in your family?"
I stared for about 10 seconds, then hung my head ala Thomas Magnum. Resigned. Aware. Cooked. Busted. Cornered.
"Yes...."
"Well, your fasting glucose is....blah, blah, blah and your A1c marker is blah, blah, blah. Your markers have been going slowly but steadily upwards...and you are now considered diabetic."
Yup. Ambushed.
Now I know enough to know that this isn't a death sentence. It could have been much worse. It was found early and hopefully I can be controlled with diet and more exercise. But this news comes on the heels of a special anniversary this year: 10 years since I had a heart attack. 2/14/1998 -- Valentine's Day -- My heart gave out. But I survived and I'm here and FINALLY, when I'm just beginning to get the thumbs up from life insurance agents, I get kicked out of the ballpark again.
Man, I hate it when that happens.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Oh No, That's Gonna Hurt...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
You Knew I Couldn't Let It Pass...
As I am frequently my own straight man, I must expound on my previous post introducing you to "The Depression Channel", number 1313 on your 10,000 channel satelite dish.
Monday's Lineup:
"Wheel of Mis-Fortune" spin the wheel and land on a diagnosis -- then try to decipher the recommended anti-psychotic med up on the board! Wynona Rider stars in the Vanna White role!
"Late Nights with Larry King" See the step by step progression of dementia.
"Malcolm at the End of His Rope"
"Full House of People on the Edge"
"Survivor....or Maybe Not"
"Getting to Know You: The Fun Side of Charles Manson"
Tuesday's Lineup:
All shows previously run on Court TV or anything produced and narrated by Bill Kurtis. If time allows, a possible preview of a new movie for our viewers: "Eyes Wide Shut", which stars Tom Cruise, producer of a new series on our channel: "Post Partum Depression - Answers for New Moms."
Wednesday's Listings:
Literary Night:
"Alister Cook Reads" Tonight: The Bell Jar.
"William Shatner Reads" Tonight: The Biography of Vincent...Van...Gogh.
Thursday's listings:
Movie madness: "Girl, Interrupted" "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" "The Frances Farmer Story", "Full Metal Jacket", "Secret Window" and "A Clockwork Orange".
Friday's line up:
Documentary Night
"Meds and You...and You....and You" New help for schizophrenics.
The Hand Washer's Companion: which soaps don't chafe, which lotions FEEL like soap, but will make hands soft and smooth, and an interactive live discussion entitled "To Towel or Not to Towel?"
Rubber-Necker's Quarterly: Agoraphobics learn the tricks of the neighborhood spying game. Includes step by step instructions on how to listen in on neighbors conversations while never leaving the comfort of your own home.
Home Security Innovations: Checking locks over and over? Introducing a revolutionary new system that lets you lie in bed and have a robot check your front door lock -- over and over and over while you relax in secure comfort. Robot runs on 24 hour battery with a back up for compulsive emergencies.
Satuday:
Biography: "The Really Forgotten Kennedy: Rosemary" Along with the preview of the newly found letter from Rose to Sr. Joseph Kennedy: "Dearest Husband, You took Rosemary out for ice cream a couple weeks ago and her bed doesn't seem to have been slept in. Do you know where she is? Possibly with her brother Jack in the hospital? I don't know. I haven't seen either of them in ages. Love, Rose. PS -- Is Jack still in the hospital?"
Background music provided by Warren Zevon's "You're Never Alone With A Schizophrenic".
Sunday:
The fun side of clinical depression with a looping of Monty Python's "Spot the Looney" sketch ALL DAY!
If nothing else, I made myself laugh.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Sick-o: MD vs. Insurance
I remember seeing a copy of the doctor's bill, circa 1957, when my friend was born. For a regular birth, no complications, her mother and sweet new baby daughter stayed in the hospital for 10 days. My mother had a c-section with me, and we were in the hospital for 14 days. Now I'm not going to go over how we could ever afford that in 2007, even WITH insurance (which is what, I believe Michael Moore's movie deals with), but what I find interesting is how the shift of medical power has gone from the physician to the insurance company.
I've worked in health care a long time. And I've seen important medical decisions being made by a person at ABC Health Insurance HMO,PPO,POS whose only acquaintance with biochemistry is knowing that green fuzz on bread means it's got to go.
When a doctor wants you to have a test, the first words out of your mouth are, in effect, I better check with my insurance company to see if I REALLY can have that test and WHERE I can have it. Some tests, whether Mr. M.D. deems them necessary or not, are stamped NOT MEDICALLY INDICATED. And some kid who's on summer break from college where he's an art history major has probably made that decision based on the playbook he's handed to make those judgments.
Don't get me wrong. The insurance companies have an appeal process. The doctor has to send in all kinds of documents and test results and the sequence of his thought processes that made him come to the decision that his patient needs an MRI or whatever. But that process can take a long frickin' time. It can sometimes be too long for some people -- who have passed the hope of possibly being cured, end up dying, with the family suing the doctor stating he "didn't act in a timely manner or in the best interests of his patient". Then personal injury attorneys and malpractice insurance attorneys have a go and tie up the doctor in depositions and trial for months. Because he's unavailable, and his partners are taking his patients along with their own, everyone is overworked, overstressed and THAT's a recipe for real life and death disaster.
I have worked with many, many doctors. 99% of them were honest, hardworking and truly trying to do what's best for their patients to the best of their ability. It's a real shame to see them spending so much of their time negotiating with insurance companies to provide the medicine or tests or care that their patients need. Without question, the patient should come first. Not the insurance company's bottom line.
Now, if you'll excuse me, me and my terrible cold are going to the doctor and hoping it will be covered by insurance.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Para-Noid
My little punky-mood should actually be "Paranoid", but I'm sick with the flu and that looms larger in my universe at the moment for several reasons, but first:
#1 -- I'm paranoid because I called in sick today at work. I mean I'm really home sick, even though it's Friday. Yes, I'm sitting here composing a post, but it's only because the drugs have kicked in and the Sudafed on top of Nyquil, on top of Advil has produced a nice rapid heartrate, and at the moment I feel like polishing each individual blade of grass in my front yard with Pledge to get that nice glossy carpet look (to match my nice, glossy eyes). Then I may wax the driveway, re-paper my kitchen drawers and purge the garage. Hopefully by noon. I know my co-workers are sitting around saying "sure...sure she's sick" even though they are all very nice, compassionate people who know I don't lie about stuff like that. I may begin to entertain the thought that Sudafed on top of Nyquil on top of Advil may produce other side effects besides psycho-energy.
Now, I must not be sick because:
#1 -- Everyone at work thinks I'm lying. Even though I'm not. Even though I really know they know I really am. (Someone decode that sentence and get back to me. Thank you.)
#2 -- It is my daughter's birthday party tonight. I have 14 people coming over for a BBQ. I do not wish to be sneezing all over their food, nor blabbering incoherent sentences before everyone else has had at least a couple of drinks under their belts. I may lay off the cold meds and just start drinking later. You know, just slip unnoticed into the jolly atmosphere, so to speak.
#3 -- my very nice significant other, Sam, has seen my post entitled "Surrounded by Assassins" and thought he had better take matters into his own hands before my brains start spilling out onto the floor. As it's my ex's weekend with the kids, Sam has booked us a hotel room for Saturday evening. No kids, no phones. I must not be sick. It really isn't attractive to have red, swollen eyes, a red, swollen nose and a cough that sounds like a Saint Bernard calling for lost skiers.
You can see my dilemma is multi-faceted, complicated and frustrating. I'm not sure what exactly will get me through today. And tomorrow and Sunday. Of course I could rest, drink lots of fluids, double up on Vitamin C, consume organic green tea with echinecea, perhaps try a mineral supplement with zinc, an extra multi, and Ricola all natural throat lozenges. I could. My paranoia and psycho-energy would probably stop if I went homeopathic. Hmmm.
Nah.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Little Tidbits From Someone Who Knows Jack
And I’m sure you little smarties out there know which Jack I mean (!)
Anyway, I thought I would brighten your cyberspace doorstep by relating yet another one of my adventures resulting in abject humiliation. Keep this in mind at all times: if you ever feel stepped on, abused, misled, ignored --- come on over. I’m here to remind you that there is always someone who’s screwed up WAY worse than you.
No problem. My pleasure.
So, let’s talk about: oxygen. You know, like in breathing.
Biology 101: Your Autonomic Nervous System.
This system takes care of things so you don't have to. I wish I had an Autonomic System to shop, cook and clean...and pair up those damn socks in the laundry, but unfortunately --- unavailable at this time. Your A.N.S. assures your heart beats (varying rates at varying times, but generally anywhere from 70-80 beats per minute), makes sure your eyes blink (around 20 times a minute, unless you are working on a computer or concentrating on something, in which case the number decreases) and makes sure you suck in OXYGEN and blow out CARBON DIOXIDE (at a rate of about 16-18 respirations per minute). There are many, many other things your A.N.S. takes care of, but then we'd have to graduate to Biology 202 and screw that.
Now as an important sidebar to that info I listed above: I AM NOT A DOCTOR. I'm just spitting out generalities. So if you figure out you blink 25 times a minute, please move on immediately and find something else to do.
What I really want to discuss is breathing. You don't think about it much unless you are climbing 4 flights of stairs after a meal consisting of a 12 oz Porterhouse, 2 pound spud with butter, sour cream and salt and a couple of green wisps in a bowl smothered in liquid fat disguised as "salad dressing". As you push your stomach before you while trying to remember what floor of the parking garage your car is, your legs will begin to complain around step 12-ish. By step 15 - 16, you are sweating. By 20 you are gulping air by the bucket fulls, by 25, you're sure you're having a heart attack. By step 30, you are swearing off food and alcohol forever, sacrificing children, parents, pets, your own eternal soul. Oxygen, at this point, is foremost on your mind...as is your lack of getting proper exercise. And as you crawl on hands and knees up step number 32, you sadly acknowledge that the simple acts of breathing and getting a little exercise have been totally ignored by you for years.
Now we can go on and on about exercise. I have and will. But for now, let's talk about breathing….and how, as a 40+ year old woman, I found out the hard way that I wasn’t doing it PROPERLY.
Things, as they are wont to do, started out simply enough. I wasn’t feeling well. Not feeling well on my radar always translates into ensuing drama. To save you the gory details, because of my cardiac issues and panic disorder, I ended up on a gurney at 2 am, being taken to my local ER once again by those nice paramedics who know me better than some family members.
I undergo my usual battery of cardiac testing and then Dr. Donald comes in. Dr. Donald and I know each other well. Dr. Donald is wonderful. I love Dr. Donald. I’ve seen him more in the middle of the night than his own wife has. And when I hear him say, “Lara, your heart is fine”, I relax and know I’ll be going home soon.
One night however, Dr. D sat down and held my hand. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Lara, if you are ever uncertain about how you are feeling, I want you to come to the Emergency Room. Always listen to your body. Never leave your health to chance, but Lara, do you breathe? I mean do you know HOW to breathe?”
As my respirations were still about 30, I guessed not. So I began another journey to learn how to breathe, how to relax, how to count breaths, how to monitor that I’m not hyperventilating. I did poorly in the beginning and Dr. Donald and I had several more discussions over the year at 2 am, but I’m getting the hang of it.
Soon, and I think VERY soon, I may be able to give up the little brown paper bag I carry with me to breathe into in case of hyperventilation. I will then lose my “bag lady” designation, but that’s ok. The point is to be healthy. The only down side?
I’ll miss Dr. Donald.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Issues Weighing On My Mind
Had an appointment today with my cardiologist. I have a great doc. A woman, a mother. I was telling her about my weight nightmare, and as she would like to see me shed about 20 pounds, has a vested medical interest in my tonage struggle. Well, she checked me out and gave me the thumbs up…which I was happy about. Then she started giving me that usual “doc talk” about coronary artery disease and weight and diet and exercise and my age and and and. I told her I was in total agreement. I told her diet and exercise issues interrupt my sleep patterns most nights. I told her there probably isn’t anyone in this galaxy or neighboring ones that has those issues foremost on their minds more than I do. I have created and nurtured a whole new angst over weight and diet that would cripple some.
Well, my doc (who’s about 115 lbs and about 5’5”) sighed and put down the white coat and stethoscope. Here’s what she told me.
“I had weight problems when I was younger too. I was a doctor, worked full time, had small children. I struggled to watch my diet, and absolutely never had time to exercise because of my schedule and the children. I truly didn’t start effectively exercising until my kids were in college. So what I’m telling you is: I understand what you are going through. I wish I could make it easier for you. But for now, just practice moderation in your diet. As for exercise, stop beating yourself up and worrying about it. Worry isn’t going to help you. Just try to do small things. Take the stairs. Go for a short walk at lunch. Park farther away at work. Move every day and be proud of the small things you do.”
But what about the new Food and Weight Loss Pyramids released by the government last year? 90 minutes of exercise a day to LOSE WEIGHT??? I'm not kidding. Did you see what they say about Weight Loss? Here:
“Exercise at least 30 minutes a day to reduce the risk of chronic disease. (okay. I can understand that.) Increase to 60 minutes to PREVENT weight gain. (just PREVENT? I’m starting to sweat now.) Increase to 90 minutes to lose weight or keep weight off that you have lost. (like 90 minutes A DAY? 90? 9 – 0 ?)"
My head is swirling and my brain hurts.
They are saying that every day, every single day, I need to find 90 minutes to exercise in order to shed unwanted pounds. I can barely find 90 seconds in my day.
And I am totally at a loss to decode the Food Pyramid. You need a PhD in mathematics to make any sense of it -- there are like 12 different color-bar-coded Pyramids and an accompanying 1000 page manual. Can't we just go back to: Meat/Dairy/Fruits and Veggies/Fat?
My doctor smiled and patted my hand. “Just try to do small things to take care of yourself…..and stop worrying.”
After I left her office, I had to sit in my car in the parking lot and ruminate, ponder and generally think. Don’t worry? If I stop worrying, won’t I create some kind of vacuum, which nature abhors, and end up the cause of the universe being sucked into a black hole? Stop worrying. Stop worrying. Stop worrying.
I shall begin to worry about how to not worry.
Monday, May 21, 2007
An Affair of the Heart
Now that I've shared a couple of my nightmares: abusive ex-husband and weight control, let's move on. I will warn you tho, from time to time these very subjects will rear their ugly heads. I've actually polled my dear friends to pick their favorite WAM (Wierd-Ass Mason) stories. There are so many to choose from. For instance:
“The ACL Tear Nightmare on SuperBowl Sunday.”
“The Final Act Before Divorce Saga.”
“The Shower Query Affair.”
“WAM as Dad…The Whole Untold Story.”
“The Hamburger Restaurant Debacle.”
I could go on and on. And I will. Later.
Right now, I thought I'd take a minute and maybe help you save your own life. Yes, I'm writing down my journey through an abusive marriage, divorce and recovery to help myself and maybe help others. I know I've probably personally financed my psychologist's house in the country, but it was so worth it. Make yourself a priority and get the help you need if you are in an abusive relationship. It's even doubly important if you have children.
And here's something else to think about: your emotional health impacts your physical health more than you realize. Like I said, I had a heart attack at 41. A real, complete heart block, occluded right coronary artery, heart attack. Being a woman and 41, well, when I got to the ER of my local hospital complaining of stomach pain, they began working me up for gallstones, pancreatitis, etc. I was home alone with the kids and began experiencing terrible stomach pain, right in the "pit" of my stomach. Then I started flop sweating beyond belief. I was home alone with my kids (ages 8 and 2) and my 8 year old called 911. I went to the ER with no one suspecting I was having a heart attack. Luckily, I was in the ER having an abdominal ultrasound when I had the actual heart attack. I heard them say "atropine and nitroglycerine" and I knew what was going on. When I woke up, I was on my way to the cath lab for a balloon and a stent, signing the release as they wheeled me down the hall.
I was lucky. Very lucky. I don't have any residual problems because I was treated so promptly. So listen to your body. Heart disease is the number 1 killer of women -- and we don't present with the usual symptoms you've heard of: chest/jaw pressure, left arm pain. And just to make it more difficult, I didn't have high cholesterol or high blood pressure. I don't drink to excess or smoke or have a family history of heart disease. I was a medical cardiac mystery....except that I lived day to day, every day, 365 days a year for 15 years under the constant strain of a bad, abusive marriage. Dr. Dean Ornish wrote a book called "Love and Survival" about the relationship between physical health and emotional health. I highly recommend it.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Welcome to the Pork Farm
Upon facing another day where my jeans size is 18 (okay, 20 comfortably), I walked into the health club that I have been a member of since its doors first cracked open during the Johnson Administration. I went consistently before I was married, before I had kids, before my life spun totally and completely out of control. However, several years have passed by since I plucked up the courage to cross the threshold. I don’t know what I thought would happen. I mean there were times when I would actually drive to the health club, sit in parking lot for 10 minutes and leave to go get a donut and coffee (with extra cream and sugar). But this time I actually walked in and nothing happened, except that I realized my married name was still on the membership card and that ferry had crossed like 6 years ago. Of course, that’s a whole other story….abuse, infidelity, kids, divorce, suicide attempt….but let’s hold off on all the really juicy stuff until I tell you what happened on my first venture into the health club in probably 10 years.
I didn’t die.
Didn’t die of embarrassment or humiliation or from the fact that my major muscle groups haven’t moved like that in near decades. No one looked at me like I was the worn-out, ugly, stupid hag that I thought I was. Well, maybe they thought it -- but if they did, they hid it well.
I hear and read so many stories about women stuggling with weight and self esteem. I married a man who thought that you should just shut the hell up and move. Get to the club you lazy ass…and there’s golf, karate, running, bowling, this, that, etc. However, he said this in the same breath as “where’s my dinner, how come there’s no fruit in the house and I need my baseball pants washed by tomorrow.” Followed by “see you later…I’ve got a fantasy football meeting….say hi to the kids for me. Bye.” So you can see where some of my issues lay. However, I will take total responsibility for my tonage. No one held me at gunpoint and wouldn’t release me until I shoved a Big Mac and large Chocolate Shake down my throat.
Anyway, it would be lovely if we could all get to the healthclub and go for a manicure and maybe stop at the mall for a little shopping, maybe ring up the Queen to see if she’d like to join us for an afternoon cup of Earl Grey…but you know, there’s like…life. There’s kids and shopping and laundry and cooking and homework and the PTA….and dishes and the cats and the gardening and social obligations and and and. Oh, and working full time. Finding any time for anything is an undertaking of monumental consequences. When a mom wants to do something, she needs to consult: her kids and their schedules including piano lessons, guitar lessons, soccer, pre-set playdates, birthday parties, school parties; any commitments all ready in place to co-workers, family, neighbors, local church. Are there any upcoming: dental appointments, doctor appointments for children, mother, father, grandparents? When is registration for school, baseball, field hockey and the YMCA summer camp? Oh, and what about work? Any projects coming up? Any promises made to cover for a co-worker? You get my drift. Never mind the stuff that blindsides you like your car won't start in the morning or you hear your youngest throwing up at 3 am.
I think as moms, single or married, we struggle with alot and honestly benefit from sharing our journeys. I struggled through 15 years of a bad marriage, I struggled through divorce and depression, I struggled with getting fat, I struggled with bad health, I struggled with isolation and having no family other than my children. The only thing I never struggled with was wonderful friends and wonderful kids. God blessed me completely, total and unequivocally when it comes to that. They have kept me afloat when all I wanted to do was check out permanently.
But that's another story for another day....
