I Will Not Suffer In Silence

Reposted from facebook:

November 14, 2011 at 8:08 am
In the You Have Got To Be Kidding Me department, one of our listed helper substitutes just told me she can’t come in for me today because she has to go grocery shopping.
I’m in too much physical pain because of endometriosis, and you have to go grocery shopping? Are you leaving for the store right now? Will it take 8 hours to get your damned groceries?

November 14, 2011 at 9:25 am
This morning, while trying to convince myself the pain was not ramping up, I consumed two bowls of gluten-free granola cereal and a protein bar, and STILL got a hypoglycemic attack, headache and nausea.
I only get hypoglycemic during an endo flare.

November 15, 2011 at 7:57 am
Going to try to work today, despite the endometriosis pain.

November 15, 2011 at 5:40 pm
Thanks, everyone! Your thoughts helped me survive the day! I also needed a ThermaCare heat wrap and 1,100mg of Advil, but I got through it amazingly enough!

November 17, 2011 at 7:44 pm
Unexpected recurrence of endo pain today – thought it was over by now but no…another cylon attack. Then I came home to cat pee all over the kitchen counter…AGAIN.
FML

(Reposted from facebook). The date today is actually Feb. 1, 2012, but I went back in time to put this journal entry as a followup to the Tired Of Always Having To Play Catch-up entry.

Morning Dream
October 20, 2011 at 6:01 am
I had been hanging out with Patricia somewhere on the peninsula, when it was time to return home. Something happened, where my car broke down or I missed my train or something. I called Catie, who agreed to come pick me up. I gave Catie the wrong directions, and we ended up going North on Highway 101 instead of South. We didn’t want to get caught up in San Francisco traffic. Catie knew a short cut, and suddenly we were on a skyway. Catie was no longer driving; we were alternately on a fast rail transport and in the back seat of a limo, heading along this skyway which ran along Highway 101 and the 280 interchange.

Suddenly there was a 3-year-old boy with us in the limousine; he had dark brown wavy hair and reminded me of a boy at the school I work at, but in the dream he was Catie’s second son. I don’t remember his name. He was walking around in the back of this limo, and for a moment stood in front of my sitting body. He placed his hands on my knees, put his head on my lap, like children do when being affectionate. He had been talking with me about something while I also had conversation with Catie.

I got a cramp, and my face twisted in pain. The child looked up at me in pure empathy and asked, “You feeweeng otay, Miss Step?”

I looked into the child’s caring eyes and softened my face. I smiled and replied, “Yes, I’m feeling better, now.” I tousled the child’s hair, and he smiled. Then I added, “Miss Steph needs to take her medication.”

Right at that point, I woke from the dream with level 8 endometriosis pain. I managed to get out of bed. It was 4:27am. I found and took a whole Tylenol 3 and promptly burst into tears from the pain.

I put myself back to bed with the heating pad, and laid there gritting teeth, moaning in pain, and doing breathing exercises for the next 30 to 40 minutes until the drugs kicked in. Finally, I was able to drift off to sleep again for a bit.

During sleep, my brain has always found creative ways to tell me I need to wake up to take care of myself.

 
October 20, 2011 at 11:58 am
I’ve already consumed 1,400mg ibuprofen today while barely maintaining at work. Severely short-staffed, otherwise I’d be home in bed. :(

 
October 20, 2011 at 2:41 pm
An actual 4.0 earthquake hit while we were performing our classroom’s first earthquake drill of the year, on the same day as the California ShakeOut drill. Much of the state did their drill at 10:20am, but we put ours off til the afternoon. The director came into the classroom and told us to keep the students under the desks, as we’d had an earthquake. She had no idea we didn’t feel the quake, and had no idea we were doing a drill. Some classrooms did feel the quake and dove under desks. So strange that we did not feel it!
Once the children learned there really had been an earthquake, some began to cry as we were given orders to evacuate the building. The school was given a quick examination, and officials let us back in. We talked about the quake, and the children finished off the day. I cannot remember what my pain level was through all of that, or if adrenaline set in from all the chaos.

 
October 20, 2011 at 8:16 pm
A 3.8 earthquake hit while my husband and I sat on the couch, either watching TV or eating dinner or both. I was drugged up on Tylenol 3 and still in pain from endo. I posted to facebook, “2nd quake in a day – as big as the first. I wanna go home!!!”
By ‘home’, I meant Michigan.

 
October 21, 2011 at 12:41 am
My husband had come into the bedroom to say goodnight. I was laying there in bed, all drugged to the hilt, talking with my husband, when another earthquake hit.
I couldn’t take it anymore, I burst into panicked tears, sobbing that I’m bedridden, and earthquakes keep happening, and how am I to get to safety if The Big One hits next, etc…my husband looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I was grabbing for his arms to pull him close to me for protection. I explained that we’d just had another earthquake. He didn’t believe me, so I grabbed my iPhone, which thankfully was right next to me, and called up the USGS website. Sure enough, a 2.1 earthquake had just occurred, in the same spot as the other two quakes. Now, a 2.1 is a minor quake – most people might not even feel it. This is the smallest quake I have ever felt, but I think I was in a heightened state of awareness/sensitivity that night. Three in one day freaked me the f**k out, I will tell you right here and now.

Think about it for a moment.

You’re bedridden with an incurable chronic pain illness, and a natural disaster occurs. You may or may not have one person with you at that moment. You are unable to react in a quick and potentially life-saving manner to get yourself to shelter. This was the first time in my life that I saw my illness as something that could kill me, because in my worst state of pain, I could DIE from not being able to move fast enough to safety.
That thought made me want to live in a bunker and never chance going out during an endo flare ever again.

I don’t know how I did it – maybe it was all the pain medication – but I was finally able to get to sleep that night, and as per my usual, I was stubborn the next morning and tried to go in to work.

On October 21, I had finished more than half of my work day before the pain ramped up around 3pm. I had been taking Ibuprofen all day to manage the pain, but just as my class let out for afternoon daycare, the pain spiked up and I nearly blacked out from blood loss and pain. Here’s what I wrote in facebook:

“My workplace is severely short staffed and my head teacher is always bitter about me taking time off due to the pain. Today the workplace got to see what it’s like when I don’t stay home on bedrest like I’m supposed to during an endometriosis flare. I nearly collapsed on a child while fastening him into his carseat at the end of the day. What happened was I was blacking out from all the blood loss and pain. Then I lost my balance and nearly fell over before opening the door of the next car.
The extended care supervisor thankfully is empathetic enough to sense when I’m in trouble, and took me by the arm, helping me to get my things. Then the owner of the school, also very kind, insisted on driving me home.
Now I take Tylenol 3 and go fall over safely in a bed.”

The next day thankfully was a weekend, not a work day. Again, my posts to facebook:

October 22, 2011 at 11:47 am
Heading into another endometriosis flare, after a morning of minimal pain. Just popped the Tylenol 3. The pain is ramping up faster than the drug will have time to kick in. I was stubborn AGAIN and did not overlap my meds. When will I learn; just because I was not in pain doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be soon.

October 22, 2011 at 12:12 pm
pain… winning

October 22, 2011 at 1:04 pm
guilt…pain…tears…frustration.

October 22, 2011 at 2:00 pm
Dissociation from pain finally kicked in after over an hour. I’m on 1 Tylenol 3 and 600mg Ibuprofen.

For those who ask why I only take Tylenol 3 and Ibuprofen for the pain, please see the growing list of all drugs (and therapies) I’ve tried to manage the pain.

Breakfast: 1 bowl trader joe’s protein crunch cereal with rice milk
Lunch: trader joe’s sushi rolls, hot tea w/ vanilla creamer
Any snacks: flax-seed chips and salsa, red mountain dew

Sooo, I got to catch up on a lot of stuff. Again.

I went for ultrasound to the abdomen and pelvic region on June 28th. I watched the ultrasound screen as the intern rolled the device thingy over me, and I saw her marking black spots. I worried a bit, but said to her that my mom had ovarian cysts when she was my age, so I wouldn’t be surprised whatever turned up.

The intern didn’t confirm nor deny anything. She was trained well. I couldn’t even guess from her face. She was a cute thang recently imported from Georgia, too, so it was fun to talk with her about the South.

I was told my doctor would get the results from the ultrasounds within a couple of days.
Days passed, no word. But that’s good. Nevertheless, I began to worry. I began to do the hypochondriac “what if” scenarios. I wouldn’t have been so worried had I not had an increase in ovarian pain on the left side – it’s been steadily increasing since the visit to the gynecologist on June 14th.
My bf and I had what amounted to a sex marathon over a few days (sometimes that happens! ;) And the pain only got worse. I had to run to the bathroom to cry from the pain at one point.

So because of the increase in pain, I fell into the “what if” routine and by yesterday I was nearly panicked half to death over anticipation of the test results today.

Today I worked a half day and drove out to East Oaktown to see the doc. I love that doctor, even if I did gross her out with my specimen. :)

She refused the specimen politely, and I learned that humagus “squid” like that are common, even in normal menstrating chix.

The doc went over the ultrasound results and told me that I have an ovarian cyst.

But get this, it doesn’t explain the pain I’ve been having, because the cyst is on the right ovary, the pain is on the left!!

I was informed that the cyst is about 11mm – that means it’s as big as my alien baby in my tit was, back in 2002.

So anyway, the doc sez that in medical speak, ALL unfertilised eggs are cysts. And sometimes, an egg comes out and just gets STUCK in the hallway, so to speak. ;)
Doc sez most likely it will dissolve, and she said that’s also common, a.k.a normal, for women to get such ovarian cysts. She says rarely do they become inflamed or infected. But we’ll keep an eye on mine, she said.

The good news is that the rest of the ultrasound came out normal – no cancer spots, no fibroids, no abnormal thickening of the uterine walls, etc.
Same with abdominal ultrasound – perfect picture.

I’m glad i’m not terminally ill or some shit – actually I’m ECSTATIC. Now you see why my mood is set to “a bit cheerful, considering”.

But wait, there’s more!

The doctor thinks much of the pain I’m having is due to continuous pockets of air in my intestines that are causing the pain, which presses down cuz it’s inflating the intestines… presses down on my bladder and girl parts, exacerbating george pain, and creating sex pain.

Doc sez she believes that this air issue I have is Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS).

My dad has just been diagnosed with IBS this past year.

And get this, my mom had an ovarian cyst at my age, as I’ve stated previously.

Doc sent me home with more drugs to try for the preliminary diagnosis of IBS, and a refill on the T3, and I have to read all I can on IBS.

Doc even brought out a huge medical book for me to glance over while she told me about IBS. She was hugely impressed with my endo charts and the copying of my own medical records and said she’d pore over it all.

I go back to see Doc in a month, and she’ll have figured out by then where to send me next for tests.

In the meantime, I have to wipe poo on a card and take it in this week to her to send off for analysis.

To sum up, the doc still thinks my Endo complaint is valid, but today she pushed IBS as a more probable issue in conjunction with dysmenorrhea. She’s not ruling out Endometriosis, though.

So my current dietary experiment (which so far is in its 2nd month of FAILURE) has to be fully re-assessed to now include IBS restrictions, Just In Case, so ordered the doc.

I got home and called up my dad. My dad rocks. He understands these are preliminary findings by my doc and he wasn’t phased by that or the cyst at all.

My mom, on the other hand, will freak. So I might not tell her at all.

Dad told me IBS is largely dietary and therefore is 100% curable, and he recommended some dietary fiber supplements, foods to avoid, and told me about the pills he was on (which are different from the pills I’ll be on. Oh, I didn’t mention that part – I’ll be taking Donnatal as necessary, so I have to read up on that, too).

Listening to my dad relaxed me even more about all of this, and like I said, I am already ecstatic that nothing life-threatening was found.

Though I’m still troubled by the pain near my left ovary.

I stayed home from work yesterday and today due to massive cramps. This morning, I was also highly emotionally unstable to start off the day, but I knew the cramps would come for me later, so I came back home after nearly having an emotional breakdown just trying to go to the bank, drop off my suit at the dry cleaners, and fuel my car before work this morning.

I then spent most of the day in fits of rage or tears, when I wasn’t catatonic in front of the computer, just staring off, or sleeping either diagonally fallen on the bed or passed out on the keyboard. I’ll have you know too that I didn’t medicate until after lunchtime today, so the fatigue is mostly from george in general; the cramping, the emotional roller coaster, the bleeding…

Along with popping 3 Tylenol 1’s yesterday (twice), I also smoked two bowls of pot with my neighbor, who gets it from the medical marijuana clinic cuz he’s HIV + and has pain issues.
Honestly, I think most of my ragey stuff is from coming down off of pot. I haven’t done pot in ages, but it’s been known to make me moody before.

At one point I looked up at the IRC window and saw someone talking about ways to try to help me with this condition, and I got all ragey and pissy.

Now, this person was only trying to help. She comes from an honest place in that, I’m sure. But my immediate reaction was rage and venom against this help. I was polite to her though. I screamed and cursed and yelled, but my reply was polite. I’m just tired of having to repeat this to everybody, that’s all.

Basically, it boils down to this:

I’m pretty aware of stuff. Unless you have some new information like my neighbor found about the benefits of Probiotics for me yesterday, I already know about the birth control options, the partial or full hysterectomy options, the Naproxen and NSAID options, the hot baths, the evening primrose oil, the special diets the Experts recommend, the heating pad option, and lots of other things.
I’m just tired of having to go through this routine for the past decade with people and with doctors. I’m TIRED. I’m FRUSTRATED.

Here’s exactly what I want: I want a laproscopy to go in, diagnose me officially, laser off any adhesions while the scope’s in there, which will hopefully leave me pain free for anywhere from a couple months to a couple of years before it grows back, and then I want a pain medication and structured diet plan. No more Naproxen. I need hardcore pain meds. No hysterectomy, no partial hysterectomy, no Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT).

Remember just a moment ago I said, “Unless you have some new information…”, well my friend said this online:

<sherpa> zept: I’m thinking…it may be a good idea to send all your medical records and your personal endo documentation to atlanta. they may consider you an ‘exceptional’ case and be interested in helping you.

So I told sherpa and the other well-meaning person online that I’d photocopy my records and send ’em in. I also showed an example to the channel of the type of logs I’ve been keeping for the past two years, which I’ll also print out and send to Atlanta.

Inbetween naps and lie-downs from the pain, I went through all of my medical records that I’ve kept, dating back to 1991, and flagged everything pertaining to Gynecological records and pleas to family doctors for pain meds for cramping so I can photocopy it this weekend.

Thank you, sherpa.

Today as I said, I didn’t medicate until after lunch. I took three Tylenol 1 pills for the pain, but instead of making me all floaty and detached, today the caffeine in the Tylenol 1’s (which was 45mg total) affected me badly, and my heart raced, and I nearly had a panic attack. So when the drugs wore off, I tried to just hold out, cuz I had nothing else to help me. I should have taken a hot bath, but I was too depressed to care for myself. I’ve been clotting badly all day, too. Huge clots, hence the massive pain.

After dinner, I took an 800mg Ibuprofen pill and I was still bleeding pretty heavy.

I’ve missed two days of work, and tomorrow is Mandatory Fun Laser Tag. There is NO fucking way I’m going to participate. HELL no. I already told my boyfriend we’re commuting separately so I can bail out.

So that brings us up to now. And now is bedtime.

Postscript ~
Mood: foul
Breakfast: 1 corn tortilla w/ Mediterranean cheese blend, salsa.
Lunch: mushroom fettuccini w/ shrimp. 1 trader joe’s berry yogurt smoothie.
Dinner: 1 bowl pumpkin squash soup and a glass of rice milk. Then a couple bites of Talapia w/ steamed/olive oiled veggies (broccoli, red bell pepper, mushroom, garlic). Water w/ lemon juice.
Any snacks: over the day, about a dozen Joe-Joe’s Trader Joe’s natural chocolate cookies (no corn syrup, no partially hydrogenated crap)

Post-postscript ~
January 2010: Although I did not state it at the time, I do recall being in worse pain after having smoked the weed. I don’t always record everything I should – sometimes I forget every detail, however major it may seem later on.

Here we go again, folks.

I hate American health care.
Hate.
FECKING HATE.

On this job contract, I am eligible for health care after 30 days employment, which hit on April 1st. But my paperwork didn’t come in til late April. The health insurance carrier is Cigna.

On April 28, I called a doctor off of the health insurance carrier’s own doctor list to make an appointment. I told the doctor I’m a PPO insurance and I gave my card information over the phone. For some reason, the doctor didn’t believe me and had to call Cigna to verify my information.
The next day, the doctor called back to state that I am NOT a PPO insurance holder and that her office cannot see me at all.

…

Today I stayed home from work due to intense menstrual cramping, so I decided I’d use my time off work to call up some more doctors. I called Cigna and took down the names of Cigna-authorised doctors.

The first doctor I called today asked me a bunch of questions about my insurance, then said I’d have to have Cigna call to verify my insurance with them. So I said screw that noise and called another doctor. The second doctor said they couldn’t even see me until May 31st. So again, I said screw that, because my employment contract ends May 27th. Third doctor I called gave me the same runaround as the first doctor today and the doctor last Thursday; they need Cigna to call them and they insist I’m HMO, not PPO.
This information isn’t even printed on my card – whether I’m PPO or HMO.

So after a half hour trying to figure out Cigna’s phone tree to get to a live representative, I get some hillbilly in the South somewhere who sounds like she could be a relative from Kentucky or Florida, and she tells me I have HMO insurance, and that I have to talk to HR at work as to why the paperwork went in that way as opposed to PPO, which I’d requested.

So the lady at Cigna gives me the spiel of “why don’t you just have your doctor contact us” … so I interrupted and told her that three doctors now, all from the Cigna network, have all told me that Cigna needs to call THEM.

The lady says, “I have never heard of a doctor asking us to call them.”

So …. I got cranky.

Lecture ensued, demands were stated, and then I was put on hold while the douchebag made a shakey-voiced call to the doctor I want to see.

I was on hold for about seven minutes when the other line rang. It was the doctor I’d planned to go see, and she was near hysterics – yelling about how Cigna won’t release any information and I have to demand to talk to their supervisor and how rude the woman was over at Cigna, etc etc, so I had to repeatedly tell the doctor I’m still on hold with Cigna, let me go back and see if they’ve come back to the phone yet. My doctor in hyperactive defensive bipolar mode rattled off quickly, “Ok fine Ok bye” and hung up on me.

I went back to the other line and continued to wait. When the douche came back to the phone, she explained to me that she couldn’t give out my personal information to the doctor’s office. I started raising my voice and swearing at this point. I told her very clearly that the whole damned reason I called Cigna was TO AUTHORISE my goddamned info to the doctor. Then the douche, all shakey-like, told me she’d have to hang up on me if I didn’t refrain from swearing.

So I asked a rhetorical question and got put on hold so she could go ask her supervisor why there’s a breakdown in the system process between doctor and carrier. I shit you not.

I then waited about seven more minutes on hold, maybe longer. When douche got back on the line, she said they can do a conference call and release my medical info to the doctor’s office with me on the line, too.

Ok, fine, let’s do it.

So douche called the doctor’s office, and a secretary answered instead of the doctor.

…

Now, I saw where this was going.

I saw, because I’ve been here before:

* March, 2003
* July, 2004
* January, 2005

This secretary person barely spoke english and said she knows nothing about the situation and why don’t we wait on hold while she grabs the doctor?

Both the lady at Cigna and I told the secretary at the doctor’s office that all we want to do is release my info so we can make an appointment for me.

The secretary stammers, “Ahhhhhhhhh well ahhhhh I dunno what is de matter on dis one…” and asks to put us both on hold again.

Here’s where Cameron goes berzerk…

I declare “this is so fucked up, I’m hanging up on both of you assholes right now.”

*CLICK*

Meanwhile, I’m stoned on overdosage of Tylenol 1 pills a friend had to obtain in Canada for me, just so I can have some sort of temporary pain relief.

Welcome to my hell.

If I had a gun, people would die.

Postsript:
Breakfast: 2 corn tortillas filled w/ Mediterranean blend cheese, two tablespoons salsa (All Trader Joe’s food)
Lunch: 2 scrambled eggs w/ raw cheddar and rice milk
Any snacks: chocolate pieces

Date: Wed Jan 19 17:32:54 PST 2005
Location: home
Mood: PISSED

I can’t effing believe this. They effing hung up on me! Effing just hung up on me. Those motherfuckers, from the doctor’s office, called me, just now, about shit that’s been going on FOR MONTHS.

Let’s take a trip down memory lane, first, to get the background again:

Back in July, 2004, I called the moronic doctor’s office in San Jose to start the process of getting my records sent there from Michigan.
I’d had trouble with these assholes before, but they brought in more retarded people over the course of time.

This lack of grey matter then extended to Michigan, when the ball was dropped on their end for file transfer to San Jose.

In August, 2004, I thought I was making progress with my records from Michigan, but it turned out later that they never did find my records. I fully believe they never even looked.

Then, in October, 2004, I tried again with the doctor’s office in San Jose. They had received the x-ray info from my chiropractor but never notified me. At least one doctor in all of this (my chiropractor) was on the ball.

So then, at the end of November, 2004, I had horrific menstrual cramps again. I called the doctor in San Jose and tried to come in. They were booked up. I asked if I could just speak to the doctor directly, as she’s treated me for this before, and I just need a prescription refill. The receptionist said I’d have to make an appointment to even speak to the doctor.
I said, “All right, how much does it cost for an office visit for someone with no health insurance, then?” The receptionist said, “No health insurance? Ahh, $95.00.”

Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

Fed up, I said, “All right, lemme tell ya this, then. I want YOU to send ME my ENTIRE MEDICAL FILE.”
I gave my street address so they could send me a release form to sign, and said it would cost $35.00. The act of giving a snail mail address over the phone should not be an excruciating ordeal, but with these receptionists, who speak very broken English, it’s always a slow and painful process. In any case, they got my information right and sent me the paperwork, and on December 3, 2004. I sent them the check and the medical release form.
And then I waited.
And waited.
And waited.

I checked my bank account. My check had not cleared.

So finally this morning, in the midst of another medical issue which I’ll get to later, I remembered to call the doctor’s office to ask what the hell was taking them so long with sending me my file.
The receptionist took my name and number, which again was a painfully slow ordeal, and she said she’d call me back.
I spent the rest of the day Not Worrying About It.

So just now, the receptionist called back, and asked if I have a fax number they can send this to. I said no, not at the moment, but I do have a snail mail address and I’d prefer it be sent that way.

The receptionist says, “Okay, are you still at the same address?”

I ask, “What address do you have?”

The receptionist proceeded to recite my OLD address.

Raising my voice, I say, “No! I’m not there! You guys HAVE the address, I MAILED it to you.”

The receptionist says, “Well she [the doctor] didn’t give that to us.”

Impatient, I say, “Ok, fine, I’ll give it to you.”

This was a particularly SLOW and PAINFUL DEATH to have to give this woman my address. She had to keep reciting it, and even said my apartment as ALPHA. I had to correct her and say “THAT MEANS LETTER ‘A'”, knowing full well she’d really write out ALPHA on the goddamned mail.

After I finished giving her my address, losing precious minutes of my life once again that I will never get back because of her lack of grey matter, she then says to me, Okay, we’ll mail you a medical release form.”

I yelled “WHAT?!?! NO, you’re going to mail me my documents!”

The receptionist says, “We can’t do that until you fill out the form…”

Yelling again now, I said, “I FILLED OUT THE FORM! I SENT IT TO YOU! ON THE CHECK, YOU HAVE MY ADDRESS. IT’S RIGHT THERE ON THE CHECK. ON THE FORM THAT I SENT BACK, YOU HAVE MY ADDRESS.”

The receptionist, now with shaking voice action, says quiveringly, “Okay, okay, let me uhh, okay…”

at this point, I thought she put me on hold, BUT THE BITCH HUNG UP ON ME!!#@$#$@^

At that point I couldn’t see straight, I was so pissed. I had images floating in my head of rampaging through the office with a gun. I thought I’d pop an artery in my brain right there.

Since it was already after hours for that office, I didn’t call back. All I’d have done is more screaming, anyway. So I’ll call them again in the morning, the rat bastard bitchshitting motherfuckers.

I realise I’m going to have to go down there, myself.

But on Sunday, my car started to throw a belt, and made horrifying screeching noises. I knew the belt was gonna go Any Day Now, but I’ve not had moolah to take it into the shop. I fully realise this will cost me more now that the belt is going and it may fully slip while on the way to the dealership tomorrow. We’ll see. I have the evil MasterCard owned by the Saudis (Citibank) that I can use if need be.

Date: Wed Dec 1 09:48:38 PST 2004
Location: home
Music:
QOTD:
Mood: sore in the back, tummy, kidneys

Breakfast: 1 bowl honey cheerios type cereal from trader joe’s

Yesterday I woke up and felt much better. The bleeding seemed to have stopped.
It’s the usual routine.

I was fine even up until lunchtime, and then I saw the Hansen’s soda in the fridge.

I do this EVERY month. I’ve not been able to stop myself. I saw the pop and since I felt better, I drank it with my lunch of shrimp and veggie stir fry and ramen noodles.

Within a half an hour, severe cramps set upon me and blood gushed forth and I had to stagger to the bathroom. Clots and the whole bit.

I popped a 500mg Vicodin and staggered back to the couch. I grabbed the pop can and read the ingredients: High Fructose Corn Syrup.

I wanted to gurgle “Corn Nuts” like in the movie Heathers, and fall face down on a glass table.

It’s the same fucking thing every month I do to myself.

I turned to my boyfriend, who was shocked that this happened so quickly, and I begged him to help me stop drinking pop for good. I explained the hormone system with the pituitary gland, the pancreas, the uterus, and how the hormones flow and regulate, and how the corn syrup sets it all off due to the glucose factor. I compared how quickly it all set in by saying, “give your diabetic dad some sugar cubes and watch him deteriorate in the same amount of time.” Only then did he understand how quickly the sugar works in the system, even to affect hormones.

As I’ve referenced before, any changes to blood sugar result in changes in the ways the uterus functions because the uterus is hormone-rich. See my discussions on this from my daily journal on Feb. 23, 2004 and Mar. 24, 2004.

I just included the above reference in my FAQ because *I* need to keep referring back to it so much.

So after I took the pain meds, I tried to get comfy on the couch and it just didn’t work. I paced the living room whimpering in pain, and then finally I warmed up the heating pad and went and laid down on the bed. I ended up falling asleep, and I didn’t get up for an hour or so.

The pain returned! WTF!!!

So I took ANOTHER vicodin. And then I was toast for the entire day.

I must note for the record however, something important regarding the corn syrup:
Before dinner, my boyfriend bought me some honey roasted peanuts. They were pretty tasty, but then I looked at the ingredients list to see what they had used to sweeten the peanuts.

High Fructose Corn Syrup.

I freaked, but get this – I didn’t get any cramps.

Hmmmmmm.

Later, after dinner, I had some pumpkin pie with Cool Whip. The Cool Whip contains High Fructose Corn Syrup.

But I didn’t get any cramps.

Hmmmmmm.

So I think I’ve determined that corn syrup in small amounts will not harm me, but drinking it in large syrupy carbonated pop amounts will make me want to go to the hospital, the pain is so bad.

Then again, I was full on drugged by that time. So next month I’ll experiment again if I remember.
Last night, largely due to the drugs, I even went to bed by 10pm. I’m usually not in bed before 1am.

I woke up this morning and once again, the bleeding has stopped, and so has the cramps. My lower back/kidneys are sore from all the pain meds, and my tummy hurts, too. I’m still quite tired.

We’ll see if george leaves me the hell alone today or not. I WILL DRINK NO POP.

Oh, also, yesterday was the start of Mercury Retrograde. I’ll blame Mister Mercury along with george for all my pain, even though it really is my fault.

Date: Mon Jul 12 09:55:21 PDT 2004
Location: home
Music: Insanity – Oingo Boingo (playing in my head)
Mood: effing pissed

On July 2nd, I called my doctors in Michigan and my doctor in San Jose,
and started the process of records transfer. I asked the secretary at
my San Jose doctor’s office to pose some questions for me to my doctor,
including whether or not she can bill AAA directly or if I should pay
her and then file claim with AAA.

Before hanging up, the secretary wanted to be sure she got the information
correct.
She said, “you’re a new patient and we’re getting your records?”

I said, “No, I’m an EXISTING patient and you’re getting my records.”

Secretary: Oh, so you’re moving away and we’re sending your records to the
new doctor?

Me: NO! You’re requesting my OLD records from my OLD doctors in Michigan!

Secretary: Oh…

That day, the secretary called me back TWO more times and we had the SAME conversation twice more. It ended with me giving her the doctor’s
snail mail address and fax number AGAIN.

I SWEAR, the whole goddamned thing went just like a Monty Python skit:

FATHER: Guards! Make sure the Prince doesn’t leave this room until I come and get him.

GUARD #1: Not to leave the room even if you come and get him.

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: No, no. Until I come and get him.

GUARD #1: Until you come and get him, we’re not to enter the room.

FATHER: No, no. No. You stay in the room and make sure he doesn’t leave.

GUARD #1: And you’ll come and get him.

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: Right.

GUARD #1: We don’t need to do anything apart from just stop him entering the room.

FATHER: No, no. Leaving the room.

GUARD #1: Leaving the room. Yes. [sniff]

FATHER: All right?

GUARD #1: Right.

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: Right.

GUARD #1: Oh, if– if– if, uhh– if– if– w– ehh– i– if– if we–

FATHER: Yes? What is it?

GUARD #1: Oh, i– if– i– oh–

FATHER: Look, it’s quite simple.

GUARD #1: Uh…

FATHER: You just stay here and make sure ‘e doesn’t leave the room. All right?

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: Right.

GUARD #1: Oh, I remember. Uhh, can he leave the room with us?

FATHER: N– no, no. No. You just keep him in here and make sure he–

GUARD #1: Oh, yes. We’ll keep him in here, obviously, but if he had to leave and we were with him–

FATHER: No, no, no, no. Just keep him in here–

GUARD #1: Until you or anyone else–

FATHER: No, not anyone else. Just me.

GUARD #1: Just you.

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: Get back.

GUARD #1: Get back.

FATHER: All right?

GUARD #1: Right. We’ll stay here until you get back.

GUARD #2: Hic!

FATHER: And, uh, make sure he doesn’t leave.

GUARD #1: What?

FATHER: Make sure ‘e doesn’t leave.

GUARD #1: The Prince?

FATHER: Yes. Make sure ‘e doesn’t leave.

GUARD #1: Oh, yes, of course.

GUARD #2: Hic!

GUARD #1: Ah. I thought you meant him. You know, it seemed a bit daft me havin’ to guard him when he’s a guard.

FATHER: Is that clear?

GUARD #2: Hic!

GUARD #1: Oh, quite clear. No problems.

FATHER: Right. Where are you going?

GUARD #1: We’re coming with you.

FATHER: No, no. I want you to stay here and make sure ‘e doesn’t leave.

GUARD #1: Oh, I see. Right.

Also that same day, I called my lawyer to inquire about the lawsuit.
However, it was after 5pm his day and he was leaving.

The lawyer laughed at me and said, “It’s been TEN years? GOOD LUCK!”
I asked him if there was any paperwork he could submit to help me out
and he said NO. He said, “given the fact that AAA gave us such a hard
time about this last time, you’re chances may not be very good, especially
after ten years. You’re going to have to go through a LOT of tests and work
and x-rays to PROVE this is related directly to the car accident.”

So on Tuesday, July 6th, I called the lawyer’s secretary and asked for the
case number. She informed me that her office SHREDS ALL RECORDS after 3 or
4 years.
I exclaimed that I did not know that, and that I had moved out of state
3 years after the accident.
She said I would have been given notice and could have had copies made
but she guessed that I never got the notice cuz…I’d MOVED AWAY.

This fight, so far, was a TOTAL loss.

Fast forward to this morning.

I called the doctor’s office to check on the status of my records transfer.
I got the same effing tit secretary on the phone as last time.

Secretary: …no..we did not get any fax.

Me: I GAVE you the information last week!!!

Secretary: Oh…hang on, let me talk to the doctor…

[put on hold with dead air]

Secretary: The doctor says No, she cannot accept AAA to pay for the
insurance, you will have to pay out of pocket.

Me: Yes, fine, that’s what I expected. I will bill AAA later. The question
HOWEVER that I had for you was, Did you receive a fax from my doctors in
Michigan of my old medical records?

Secretary: Oh…hang on, let me talk to the doctor…

[put on hold with dead air]

Secretary: No, we did not get a fax, you will have to come in and fill
out a form to release medical records.

Me: OH. You know, that would have been SO nice of you to tell me LAST
WEEK when I called, but instead you asked me for snail mail information
and had to call me back twice more to get the information straight!

Secretary: OH! But was that me??? I show only one call from you that
day!

Me: YES. I called ONCE. YOU called me back TWICE.

Secretary: …

Secretary: Oh, but I would have to write that down if I did…are you
sure it was me?

Me: YES. And you SHOULD write it down but I don’t think you did!
Now LISTEN! I GAVE you the doctor’s information! DO YOU HAVE IT?

Secretary: …

Me: *SIGH* I will come down there then and fill out paperwork and I
will talk to the doctor DIRECTLY. YOU need to learn how to do your
job – I’m letting you go now, BYE. *click*

This fight, so far, CONTINUES to be a TOTAL loss.

Now, let me just state for the record that this person is the REPLACEMENT
secretary for the OTHER retard who used to work there, and let me just
state for the record that THIS woman is Retard, Part II, with a heavy
accent of some sort. Perhaps Latino, perhaps Mid-Eastern.
I can’t tell, because both cultures say my name as “Tepanie”.
But I digress. Screw the language barrier. She’s Retard, Part II anyway.

I’m seeing red, I’m so pissed off.

This doctor is really good, but she keeps her office staffed with titbags!!!

GAH!!!!

And on the health front, my knees have continued to ache. I was SO
stiff yesterday, I could barely assist my bf who sprained his ankle
last week.

And I bicycled 10 miles, twice last week, and went swimming once, too.
And I did a lot of walking because my car is parked around the block and
I had to be the one to drive my bf all over last week and there is no
close parking (he’s got the assigned spot in the carport).

So the argument cannot be made that I am not getting enough exercise.

It’s been more and more difficult to crack my neck again lately, too,
and my shoulders are constantly on the verge of seizing up and making
my back go out again if I so much as stretch in the morning or lay on
my side at night.

I NEED to be looked at, and I DON’T have health insurance, and AAA is
*supposed* to pay my medical bills for life.

I DON’T have any proof that AAA was ever told in a court settlement to
pay for my medical expenses for life. As far as I recall, I DID ask for
this information from my lawyer years ago, and somehow he could not or
would not produce it, which led me to believe it was more a verbal finger-
waving at AAA because he KNEW he had no weight with it, and of course he
went and billed me for it, anyway. That’s what I think happened.

I *could* subpoena AAA for records on the case, but they probably purged
my records after 5 or 7 years, too.
I just called my lawyer and left a message with that question. If I get
a negative reply, I’m hiring a new lawyer and I already know of one locally.

Mood: ball of anxiety

Ok this is the manic part of manic depression.

This is the time right after george where I want to run through hallways and cube farms and driveways and streets waving my hands over my head screaming AAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!! because there’s so much shit swimming around in my head and so much external stimuli that I have NO effing idea what to do with it all.

I went to work this morning and all day long I felt like I was about to POP. My leg bounced all day. My muscles steeled in my legs all day. My fingers twitched all day. 9000 things ran through my head all at once all day. Trying to talk to someone at all today resulted in words stumbling over words.

Even now, 3482973240579831 things are going through my head, like:

My friend wrote back to me and sent me more pictures which remindes me, I still have to develop the film from arizona cuz I don’t have a digital camera but it’s so expensive to develop film and I get paid this Friday so hopefully I’ll have enough money by then but CRAP I still need to get groceries and pay bills AND pay the rent, which leaves me with next to NOTHING and then I STILL have to find a way to sock away $200 towards the trip to Detroit to see my sister get married in June and speaking of marriages, my friends out in New Hampshire are getting married THIS AUGUST and I thought it was NEXT year so now I have to save money for that too cuz DAMMIT I wanna GO! and speaking of going places, I went to Tahoe this weekend with a friend visiting from Detroit on work-related business and we all drove up to Tahoe together to see our friend Zerby.

*Takes in deep breath*

Oh and another thing – the verdict for george – that’s what I need to discuss.

The verdict is: abstaining from alcohol does NOT do ANYTHING to keep the pain away.

The pain hit me Sunday afternoon as we were driving around Lake Tahoe after our hike down to Vikingsholm. I steeled myself in the back seat of my friend’s car; right arm clutching the handle by the door and left hand supporting me so I could hover centimetres above the seat so the shooting pains to my anus wouldn’t hurt so much.

I popped 6 advil and waited for it to kick in. I tried to continue conversation. By the time we got back to Zerby’s house, the pain began to fade as the drugs took hold. Too bad they weren’t dissociatives or hallucinogens. I plopped a sleeping bag on the kitchen floor and was ordered to rest as my friends made dinner.

The pain went away until sometime later that night; I don’t recall when – probably around 10pm or so when it returned but not as strong.

I got home and went directly to bed.

Monday I went to work and the pain hit me again, along with faintness and dizziness (same thing?). AND I was downright homicidal from the time I woke up that morning. I even told my coworker loudly to just CHILL OUT, twice. He deserved it, but still, I caused a scene. He must be a speed freak, I swear. He twitches on a minutely basis and is always in everybody’s business and just won’t calm the fuck down. Like how I’ve been, but I have a hormonal excuse. This lame-ass tardmonkey has NO excuse.

ANYWAY

so the pain happened while I was at work and it SUCKED. I took 4 advil and got even more dizzy. I have fully and completely run out of my prescription anaprox, as well as my vicodin. I have a few Tylenol 3’s left but I can’t take those at work. I’d be drooling.
So advil it was. And Advil takes a long time to kick in.

So then I bled like a fiend and the cramps made me wanna crawl under a desk and die and finally I passed the stupid goddamned clot that created the cramps cuz it was trying to come out….and the cramps subsided.

By the time work ended, I wasn’t speaking anymore. I was so beyond depressed, it was pitiful. I barely spoke to my bf on the drive home.
He understood. He knows how this pain kills me, how it wipes me out, how utterly exhausting it is.
I got home and went right to bed…at 7:30pm.
I got up at 9:30pm and was back in bed by 11pm for the rest of the night.

Tuesday morning bright and early, the cramps returned with a vengence. I took a hot shower to try and liquify things a bit more but it didn’t help – I needed a bath and didn’t have time before work to do that.
So I emerged from the shower and tried to pretend the cramps weren’t there. I tried to get dressed for work. It didn’t help. The cramps were there and they hurt like a bitch.
I broke down and started crying – I couldn’t control anything any longer, including my emotions. I just cracked. I just started sobbing and my bf had NO idea what to do except just stand there and hug me.
Which is of course the best he could do, but he always wishes he could do more. Poor guy. I dunno who’s traumatized more by my pain sometimes. At least I’ve known it for 17 years. He’s only seen it for about 4.

I was a full on basket case by this time and so after composing myself the best I could, I called in sick to work and sent my bf on without me. His morning commute was going to royally suck now without me, so I felt that much worse for it.

Within a half hour of my bf leaving, I passed the clot that had tried so hard to come through, and which caused all that effing pain. It was like 4-6cm thick.

Now I ask you… if I can’t even pass a 4-6cm clot without screaming to the death for demerol, then WHY IN THE HELL would ANYBODY want to pass a BABY through that hole?

My GODS, PEOPLE!!! COME ON!!!

I stayed up for another hour and a half and strangely I don’t think I took any meds at all. I just wasn’t in my right mind by that point.
But by around 9:30am I prepared a heating pad and put myself to bed.

The heating pad worked wonders and I fell back to sleep.

I slept til 2pm.

I got up and puttered around, and the cramps came back around 5pm but not as strong as the morning cramps.

Every couple of hours I had to go lay back down again, otherwise, I was on the computer for the rest of the day just farting around.

By Tuesday night, the cramps had subsided and a friend of a friend…yet another Michigander visiting on business, dropped by with an assload of Tylenol 1’s and gelcap advils for me. Heh! I’ve never even met this person in real life but my other friend sent him with drugs for me. How sweet!

Turns out the cramps are done now, and so I don’t need the drugs til next time around.
But that’s good – I have drugs for next time around.

I went to work today cuz I missed yesterday, and instead of cramps, this time I had hypoglycemia.

ALL DAY.

I was light-headed, dizzy, slightly nauseous, and my eyes kept crossing and unfocusing on me ALL EFFING DAY. No matter how well I ate. I had an egg sandwich for breakfast and a tuna sandwich for lunch. I had a banana. NOTHING HELPED.

I always get hypoglycemic attacks just before george, but this, all day, at the tail end of george…this really PISSES ME OFF.

More hormonal bullshit to research.

Which brings me to my closing thoughts.

Since removal of alcohol from my diet didn’t do a damned thing last month, I started drinking again tonight. You wouldn’t know that I’m blitzed on HALF A GLASS OF TWO BUCK CHUCK, because although still cross-eyed and unfocused, I’m STILL somehow able to spell-check. Not very quickly mind you but I’m still spell-checking…which means this journal entry took almost 2 hours to write. heh.

I ate a healthy salmon dinner w/ green beans and not-so-healthy instant mashed potatoes before I really started drinking this HALF GLASS of wine, so that will offset any further hypoglycemic attacks…hopefully.

Time to start guzzling water.

Oh WAIT

CLOSING THOUGHTS.

uhhh yeah. OK so removing booze from my diet didn’t work so I’m going to re-introduce beer and wine into my diet and LIMIT the following starting NOW:

hydrogenated oils

corn syrup

And I’m going to continue to omit hard liquor completely for another month.

I’d like to say I’m going to OMIT hydrogenated oils and corn syrup, but it’s just not humanly possible in an American diet.

Hell, we fed our friend Zerby with vegetarian food twice in two nights and he got so sick that he accused my friend of trying to assassinate him. ;)

It’s just not humanly possible to fully omit hydrogenated oils and corn syrup from the American Diet without warning.

So I gotta take it slow. Taper off the toxins, as it were.
I’ve been fed them my whole life. My mom is hypoglycemic, so she craves sugar, so she’s fed it to me all my life, which bred hypoglycemia into me, which manifested into its full potential after I had pancreatitis at age 21.

So uhhh yeah. I’m drunk on half a glass of wine after only being sober for 1 month. Holy shit.

HOLY SHIT did I spew a lot of crap. I can’t even remember what I’ve spewed. Good thing I saved it all.

oh hey! i’m not anxious anymore!

good night.

One thing I forgot to mention. Either last Friday or last Saturday,
the first 24 hours of george, I took two swigs of liquor – it’s tasty
chocolate liquor and I was craving chocolate so there ya go.
Well, within 5 minutes I was cramping with all hell and felt nauseated
to boot.
I had been FINE up til that point. The first day of george usually
does not give me cramps – it’s been that way for a few years now.

Not wanting to feel that pain again, I swore off booze for a month.

You heard me, I swore off booze.

Oh trust me, I’ve already been having withdrawls. It’s no secret that
I’m a “boozy beggar who could think you under the table.”

My first alcoholic addiction was at age 16 when I’d steal swigs of
Johnny Walker Red from a fifth in my mum’s dresser drawer.

So this is going to be an emotionally painful month, but I HAVE to
do it. I HAVE to see whether alcohol, rightly considered a staple
in my diet, has been a major contributing factor to my monthly george
pain.

Since the year 2000, I’ve eradicated cow, pig, chicken, lamb, duck
and deer (and all similar type animals) from my diet in an effort
to pin down what’s causing all this pain every month for me.

I’m still doubling over in pain every month.

In the dairy department, I’ve switched to rice and soy milk instead
of cow milk. I’ve switched to soy cheese whenever possible, or organic
cheese also whenever possible. I’ve switched to organic eggs, too.

I’m still doubling over in pain every month.

I added more green vegetables to my diet, such as spinach and broccoli
and beans.

I’m still doubling over in pain every month.

Guess what I’ve neglected to adjust in my diet?

Sugar intake in the form of pop, candy, chocolate, juice, liquours,
coffee, pasta and breads, and other carbs that convert to sugar courtesy
of my already-damaged pancreas (I had pancreatitis in 1993).

So I’m going to have to swear off sugar, too.

That will fling me into severe withdrawls worse than the sobriety
will, and I’ll probably not be very pleasant to be around for quite
some time.

But I HAVE to do it.

I’ve tried before. I really have. And I’ve failed every time. I may
fail again. It’s highly likely. But I’ll at least try again.

One step at a time. Let me get over booze withdrawl first. My friend
is visiting this weekend from Seattle. He’s a known heavy boozer like
me. If I can survive this weekend, I’m good, and then I can progress
to restricting sugar with brute force.