I Just Want One Part of Me to Work

Isn't it fun to jump back and forth between medical conditions? Really, I think I just complain a lot. If it's not my back, it's my mouth. If it's not my mouth, it's my job. If it's not my job, it's my volunteer work or school. See? I'm a barrel of complaints and not fun at all.

Back to my mouth though. I had an "interesting" (if you call getting completely freaked out an "interesting experience") talk with the ENT nurse yesterday. I said that the first round of antibiotics they put me on for my mouth weren't working. They did nothing, actually. My throat still hurts. My mouth is still white, dry, and sticky. So, I asked if they could put me on another class of antibiotics (preferably one with a generic). She said she'd ask the doc and call me back. When she called back, she said that they would call in another prescription for me, but if it didn't work that I would need to go see an Infectious Disease Specialist.

Let me say that again: Infectious Disease Specialist. As in, I quite possibly have a rare form of bacteria that I picked up from God knows where in my lymphatic system. It's expressing itself in my mouth and throat. Every time I have gotten my temperature taken for the past five months, it's been between 99-100. Apparently, I have a relatively harmless infectious disease. It's more like a baby goat at a petting zoo and less like a flea-infected marmot carrying the bubonic plague. Did I mention that I was quarantined for the bubonic plague in Mongolia because someone had died from it? Granted, that was six years ago and none of my symptoms match (of course I checked, do you think I'm an idiot? I'm paranoid, not stupid), but none of my symptoms match anything else either.

I immediately call my sister, who begins wondering why I'm screeching at her. I was just so upset that the nurse wouldn't even tell me what kind of bacteria they cultured out of my throat. I asked the nurse today when I talked to her and she said that she didn't have my chart in front of me, but would fax the information to my primary care physician when I needed a referral to the INFECTIOUS DISEASE SPECIALIST. This kind of specialist is located lovingly in the not-ominous-sounding-at-all Department of Molecular Virology and Microbiology.

So many things can cause a white film on your tongue. Add in a sore throat, persistent low-grade fever, resistance to BOTH anti-fungal and antibiotic medication, and you have a nice medical mystery and very annoying condition.

Want to Feel My Rib?

Do you ever notice that there is two kinds of pain: ouch (that hurts! Stop it immediately) and ouch (yeah, that hurts, but I can tell that it's for a greater good and it feels almost a little good)? Physical therapy on Thursday really pushed the boundaries on ouch - in a bad way - and ouch - in a good way. I find it interesting that I'm actually looking forward to going back this afternoon.

Much like the drama in my mouth, this is a medical mystery months (going on years) in the making. I don't even really know where to start, other than to say my back started hurting in February 2008 when I was writing a grant. I waited a couple of months because, apparently, that's what I do. I'm a good waiter. I wait for my medical problems to resolve themselves before seeking treatment. It's just so unfortunate that they rarely do. Anyways, I saw a family practitioner, which is perhaps the WORST possible kind of doctor for pain. He thought I was drug-seeking because I had been using vicadin left over from an oral surgery to help me with the pain. In his mind, vague, non-injury-related "back problems" clearly indicated that I was hooked to hydrocodone and should immediately get out of his office.

Sigh.

Fast forward...I don't know....to August 2008. I met Dew and we started going to electro-accupuncture sessions. Basically, the needles are attached to electrical current and vibrate inside your skin. You can imagine how much fun that would be for 45 minutes, while lying on your stomach listening to music from a cd player. The pain relief from a session would last for about 3 days. Then I was back to my normal level of pain. I had a lot of accupuncture sessions and it worked for a while.

Then I saw an orthopedic surgeon and he suggested physical therapy and an anti-inflammatory. I went to one session of physical therapy (for $45) and didn't go back because it took too long and was too expensive.

I think at some point I see another family practitioner and beat my head against a wall. Then my psychiatrist started prescribing things for my back pain. Probably not the best idea considering muscle relaxers don't actually make me feel better, they just make me not care that I'm in pain. And I was in so much pain.

SOOOO....back to another family practitioner at my new place. She doesn't give me anything for pain and sends me to...get this...another orthopedic surgeon!! For another $45 I go and see the Ortho Doc, who happens to be Chair of the Orthopedic Department at a very prestigious medical school in town. I fall a little bit in love with him when he says, "Show me your pain" and I point to the middle of my back. He says, "Hmm...sometimes my patients don't tell me that the pain moves from side to side because they are afraid that it will affect their credibility with me" I gasped. "Yes! That's exactly what my pain does," I solemnly swear. He says, "It's probably a muscular problem that I'm not going to be able to help with. You are a non-surgical candidate. You should go see a Physical Pain and Rehabilitation Specialist".

Dew and I trundled to another doctor where I have a 2.5 hour appointment that involved pushing and pulling. I was prescribed physical therapy and an anti-inflammatory (stop me if you've heard this one before) and two MRIs since the x-rays and blood work came back normal.

I'm committed to physical therapy this time, mostly because I have to take care of myself. No one else will and I've worked like a dog all year. I thought I didn't have any vacation time because what was showing up on my check stub was a pitifully small amount. I'm still in a negative for sick leave after being in Peru in February 2009, so every time I go to the doctor, I have to use vacation time. Turns out, what was being printed on our check stubs was wrong. I have a surplus of vacation time from not taking more than 1 or 2 days all year. I can only carry-over 40 hours of time and if I don't use all my surplus vacation time before the end of the year I lose it.

The Pain Doc recommended a very specific therapist for me to work with at yet-another-prestigious hospital in town. I really like him, especially when he said he could literally feel where my rib was turned out and spent 20 minutes trying to manipulate it. That was the "ow, I want to kick you in your nuts" part. Fortunately, it was over relatively quickly.

Now there is just the money part to worry about. On my insurance plan, every session of pt costs $45. I'm scheduled for two sessions this week and my MRI is going to cost another $45. That's $135 in medical expenses for this week alone. I reapplied to Pier 1 to help cover some of these expenses. I'm hoping that I will be able to work a couple nights a week and on Sundays.

At least I can point to the really cool rib that's sticking out if someone thinks I'm faking my pain.

I'm Dying

(My apologies to folks who read part of this story already when it was up at this site. Just consider this a recap)

I'm all kinds of dramatic. I know this about myself. What's funny is that I tend to be like most people and will go crazy over a stubbed toe that is clearly an indicator my complete lack of balance and potential inner ear disorder. Yet, it took me 6 weeks to actually go to a doctor for a dry mouth. Mostly because, seriously, who goes to the doctor for a dry mouth? So if we back up from the time that I wrote that post, I have been having problems with my mouth since July 1st or so.

August: I pay $20 to see my old primary care physician, who looked at the whiteness in my mouth and on my tongue and said, "Why yes. I know what it is. It doesn't look exactly like thrush, but thrush it could be. Take this horrible oral anti-fungal medication four times a day for 14 days." Me: "Uh...ok. I guess I have been on a lot of antibiotics for a while now". The only problem is that anti-fungal medication didn't cure the problem. I called and asked for a refill and took all 192 doses of the next round. Guess what didn't happen? Yep, it didn't clear anything up. I still had a dry mouth and whiteness. It felt/feels like I'm constantly sucking on something sour, only drinking water doesn't make it any better.

September 21st: I pay $20 to see my new doctor at the very large, very prestigious medical school clinic in Houston. She looked at my mouth and said (no, I'm not kidding): "It's not thrush. You have a white film on your tongue and throat that goes away when I scrape it. You have an oral disturbance. I will prescribe an anti-fungal, but it probably won't work". Me: "Uh...what do you mean it won't work?" Her: "It's not thrush, but you can try this. It's a very good anti-fungal, but if it doesn't work, it's because I don't know what you have." Me: "Oh well then" (and like an idiot walked out of her office without asking her to 1)culture my throat or 2)address the back pain that I went into the office for. I will give her credit for one thing, it wasn't thrush and the medication didn't work. I guess I was hoping for some kind of miracle cure.

October 20th: I saw my Ob-Gyn, also at the very large, very prestigious medical college clinic. Since I paid a $45 co-pay to see her for my annual checkup, I ask her to look at my mouth. I figured she'd be swabbing things anyway. She looks at me and says, "Well, I don't see too many mouths in my line of work, but sure, I'll take a look". Then I fell in love with her. We are moving to California after the holidays to raise baby llamas together. But seriously, she cultured my mouth. Three days later she sent me an e-mail (can you see why I love her?) that she FOLLOWED UP with a personal phone call. It's like I've died and gone to Ob-Gyn heaven. Unfortunately, that culture showed yeast, but then again, I asked an Ob-Gyn to look at my mouth. Of course she saw yeast. She's a veritable yeast whisperer. I go back on anti-fungal (the same one as in August) and think, "Maybe, just maybe this magical woman has it in her powers to cure me." Well, she didn't, but she at least referred me to an ENT. Would you believe that insurance companies don't accept referrals from Ob-Gyns for ENTs? The nerve. I had to call my primary physician (the new one) back and ask very nicely for a referral without another office visit.

November 3rd: I see the referred ENT and she's lovely, even if she's not located in the same office building that all the other doctors are in and I have to pay a $45 co-pay to see her. My throat has started to hurt fiercely and there are strange things coming from my nose. I'm pretty sure I'm dying a slow, dry death. She cultures both my nose AND my throat after looking at them both extensively and proclaiming, "My word! Your lymphatic system is completely inflamed. Have you been feeling run down? You look like you'd be feeling run down". To which I answered, "Well, I have this thing...with my throat....and now my nose....and how about you fix it, mkay?" She agreed to my conditions and had her nurse come in to give me instructions. The nurse comes in with a water bottle and a sheet for mixing baking soda and salt in equal quantities to gargle and brush with. The water bottle is supposed to go up my nose where I would squirt 4oz of water and solution into each nasal cavity while repeating, "Kitty, kitty, kitty" over and over so it wouldn't go down my throat. I just sat there staring at the nurse going, "Oh yeah. I bet you love your job". They sent me down five floors to drop off my culture samples in a very large, non-profit hospital in the middle of a damn medical center of office buildings. I confuse easily. I blame my inner ear disorder.

November 6th: ENT nurse calls me and says, "So...it turns out that you don't have an oral yeast infection. You have MULTIPLE EXOTIC STRAINS OF BACTERIA" (direct quote). Me: "What the hell??" Her: "I'm calling in an antibiotic to your pharmacy. Take it for 14 days and call us back." Me: "Wait, I thought this problem started from being on antibiotics." Her: "Umm...I don't know. Just don't call before you finish the prescription"

Today: Day 3 of very-expensive-antibiotic-that-had-no-generic-equivalent. My mouth is worse than ever. Very, very dry and all white. I want to go home and take a nap, but I know that if I do I'll wake up and my mouth will still have bacteria (and not the good kind) growing in it.

Now you have the story about how I'm dying and why I'm completely broke from office visit and prescription co-pays. Moral of the story: ask for cultures the first time, don't see general practioners when a specialist is more qualified, then make sure you see the right specialist, and once you are at said specialist, for the love of God, make sure you confirm that the medication they put you on will have a generic. The end.

New Post

New post up at The Writing Spot.

Not Fun

I decided last night that I'm not fun enough for Carlo. We broke up on the phone during a break from his EMT class. I felt bad that it had to happen then, especially when he was tired from trying to put out a burning building then sitting in class for several hours, but it had been building for a little while.

Here's evidence of why I'm not fun:

1) I'm a single Mom. Raising Zac is one of my first priorities. If you want to get to know me, you are going to have to get to know him. I don't want someone to be a Daddy, or even play Daddy, but they are going to have to spend time with Zac when he's around and awake. He is my the biggest part of my life.

2) I'm getting my MBA. I often have to do homework instead of cuddling on the couch watching a football game that I don't care about. If I am doing that, I'm usually trying to figure out how I can fall asleep and still seem interested.

3) I'm often tired. See reasons 1-2.

4) I'm a baby when I'm sick. I'll still come over and I'll even offer to go out after I've thrown up. I don't want someone to look disappointed - like I haven't given enough. In fact, when I'm sick, I like it when people take care of me and bring me saltines and Sprite and rub my back. I'm the least fun person ever when I'm sick. I admit this.

5) One word: FOB. I'm thinking about filing a law suit against the FOB and wondering where I'm going to get the money for the lawyer's fees and getting the information together for the lawyer.

6) I like being in a relationship. Dating multiple people doesn't really interest me. I'm in fact, a horrible dater because I just want to get to know someone and find out if we are compatible. If I'm dating someone for more than a month or so, I don't want to worry if I use a term of endearment or call them my boyfriend. This also includes saying not hiding my relationship from anyone, on or off the Internet.

I just couldn't be the happy-go-lucky, fun woman that Carlo wanted. I have too much on my mind to try and pretend that I don't and that what's going on in my life affects me. My fun nights are on Saturdays when Zac is at my parents and I'm finished with school for the week. Most weeknights I'll be in bed by 10pm reading a novel and listening to the sound of the rain on CD.

I am kind, caring, supportive, hard-working, and determined, but very decidedly, not fun.

The Halloween Edition

I don't post many pictures of Zac anymore, which is a shame. People who have read me from pregnancy on-ward might think that Zac is permanently stuck as an 18-month old covered in spaghetti. Now he's a growing four year-old that still likes to cover himself with spaghetti.

I think I stopped posting as many pictures when I moved out of my parents' house a year ago and couldn't use their digital camera for everyday shots. Fortunately, I did manage to get a shot of Zac in his Halloween costume on Saturday. He decided to go as a firefighter, which was a change from his initial idea of being Spiderman. The only Spiderman costume that I could find was a cheap polyester that looked like it might suffocate him if it was over his face.




So, fireman it was. Uncle Kevin provided a hat from his crew in New Hampshire when Zac went up to visit Aunt Jen with my parents. Notice the handy plastic axe in his hand, in case he needs to break through any cellophane to rescue a burning stuffed animal. Zac is nothing if not caring, and now apparently well-prepared. Carlo is also a fireman. That means that I have more fireman in my life than most people have hands. It's a little odd, I'll admit.



Last year he went as a cowboy. He still has the hat and he likes to wear it on special occasions. The weekend before Halloween we went to one of his classmate's birthday party at Chuck-e-Cheese. Zac decided that he wanted to wear his "handsome" clothes and top it off with his cowboy hat.

He got so very upset when the giant rat, also known as Chuckie, took his hat and wouldn't give it back to him. The poor kid just broke down in sobs and clung to my leg until the rat gave it back and tried to hug him. Meanwhile, I was in the middle of having an anxiety attack. All 150-200 kids in the place sounded like they were being attacked. These were not joyous yelps I was hearing. It sounded like kids were being mutilated and killed. All of the muscles in my body tensed up and I immediately started hurting. Girl Gone South told me that she thought Chuck-e-Cheese was an excellent form of birthcontrol. She might be on to something.