For months I've dreaded the well-intended question, "Are you feeling better?" How do I answer that? Better than what? I've had migraines, tension headaches, sinus infections, abdominal cramps, muscle spasms, burning joints, back, neck, and shoulder pain, extreme fatigue, nausea, dizziness, chills, sweats, heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, and insomnia for years on end, and any time even one of those symptoms faded the littlest bit I felt "better", but that didn't mean I felt good.
Finally, eighteen months after the initial diagnosis of adrenal exhaustion, this week, I can answer the question. Yes! Yes, I feel better. I've felt better the past week and a half than I have for at least six years. I still can't get up the instant I wake up in the mornings like I did a long, long time ago, and I still have to pace myself and take frequent breaks throughout the day, but I no longer have to sleep several times a day. I can take clean laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and put it away without getting winded. My yard and garden, though still a work in progress, look better than they have in the twelve years we've lived here. I remembered to deliver a verbal message from my grandma to my uncle when I saw him the next day. You can laugh, but seriously, that has not been normal for me. I still have some discomfort, but my heart and lungs are keeping up with me, the headaches are rare, the sinus infections are over, and the pain has lessened.
So now that I feel better, I can live a normal life, right? No. There's still a long road ahead. There are stacks of papers to sort and file, long-neglected corners to scrub, walls that need painting, past-due bills to pay, and so many, many things I should have done a long time ago but couldn't. I have years of photos to print and scrapbook, and that is one of my most difficult tasks, because I remember how horrible I felt at the time they were taken. It was so, so hard to live in that much loneliness and desperation in the middle of such a beautiful life.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
What I Need
Understanding.
I feel cared for when someone researches adrenal fatigue to try to understand my situation. I want people to know it's not just feeling tired (it's feeling completely drained!), it's also insomnia, narcolepsy, muscle pain, joint trouble, new allergies, hypoglycemia, indigestion, and grief for time I keep losing, and that's just the beginning. Frustration that I can't do more or be more. I don't want to be pitied, just understood.
Trust.
When I don't show up, it isn't because I don't care, or I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not drifting away. I'm not going to drift away. Remember what you know about me: Have I ever drifted away? Haven't I always done my best? Have I ever dropped the ball in a major way? I do what I can. Trust me to keep doing what I can, and even though it doesn't look like much to you now, it's my best.
Rest.
If I make a trip to town today, I may not be able to make a trip to town tomorrow. If I have a heavy workload at home, I'm unlikely to be much help elsewhere, at least for a while. What looks like laziness, is recovery time.
Inclusion.
It's really nice when someone fills me in on the details or texts me the highlights or emails me the announcements I missed. It feels great to be invited even when you doubt I'll be able to make it, and to be able to decline and know I'll be missed but not judged...even if it's over and over again.
Time.
This isn't a "disease" I recently contracted. It has been a lifelong struggle for which I have only recently received diagnosis and ongoing treatment. There has been physical and emotional damage that can heal with the right tools in the right environment. There isn't a pill that can fix it. Be patient with me. I have to be patient with me too, and if I can do it, you can do it. I've come a long way already, and I still have a long way to go.
Benefit of the Doubt.
I hear often that people are concerned about me, but only through the grapevine. That feels demeaning to me. If you worry about me, stop it. My closest friends aren't worried about me. That's because they talk to me. They stop by. They call. They text. They email. We hang out or work together when we can. They know what's happening in my life. There are a dozen ways to reach me. Use one.
Humor.
Laughter is medicine. When I lost my job, my friend Ruth gave me a card full of work-related cartoons. It made everything bearable! Laugh with me, tell me a (clean) joke, share your most-embarrassing moments, lighten up with me.
Family.
My husband and sons and daughters are in this with me. They're supporting me and picking up the slack. I can't share them with you as often as you like. We're not living a normal life right now, but we are trying to keep things as routine as possible. Give my husband some room! He's working early mornings and long, hot weeks and trying to keep things running on the homestead and still maintain friendships and help others as much as he can. My family needs the same things I need. Be the one to offer them.
I feel cared for when someone researches adrenal fatigue to try to understand my situation. I want people to know it's not just feeling tired (it's feeling completely drained!), it's also insomnia, narcolepsy, muscle pain, joint trouble, new allergies, hypoglycemia, indigestion, and grief for time I keep losing, and that's just the beginning. Frustration that I can't do more or be more. I don't want to be pitied, just understood.
Trust.
When I don't show up, it isn't because I don't care, or I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not drifting away. I'm not going to drift away. Remember what you know about me: Have I ever drifted away? Haven't I always done my best? Have I ever dropped the ball in a major way? I do what I can. Trust me to keep doing what I can, and even though it doesn't look like much to you now, it's my best.
Rest.
If I make a trip to town today, I may not be able to make a trip to town tomorrow. If I have a heavy workload at home, I'm unlikely to be much help elsewhere, at least for a while. What looks like laziness, is recovery time.
Inclusion.
It's really nice when someone fills me in on the details or texts me the highlights or emails me the announcements I missed. It feels great to be invited even when you doubt I'll be able to make it, and to be able to decline and know I'll be missed but not judged...even if it's over and over again.
Time.
This isn't a "disease" I recently contracted. It has been a lifelong struggle for which I have only recently received diagnosis and ongoing treatment. There has been physical and emotional damage that can heal with the right tools in the right environment. There isn't a pill that can fix it. Be patient with me. I have to be patient with me too, and if I can do it, you can do it. I've come a long way already, and I still have a long way to go.
Benefit of the Doubt.
I hear often that people are concerned about me, but only through the grapevine. That feels demeaning to me. If you worry about me, stop it. My closest friends aren't worried about me. That's because they talk to me. They stop by. They call. They text. They email. We hang out or work together when we can. They know what's happening in my life. There are a dozen ways to reach me. Use one.
Humor.
Laughter is medicine. When I lost my job, my friend Ruth gave me a card full of work-related cartoons. It made everything bearable! Laugh with me, tell me a (clean) joke, share your most-embarrassing moments, lighten up with me.
Family.
My husband and sons and daughters are in this with me. They're supporting me and picking up the slack. I can't share them with you as often as you like. We're not living a normal life right now, but we are trying to keep things as routine as possible. Give my husband some room! He's working early mornings and long, hot weeks and trying to keep things running on the homestead and still maintain friendships and help others as much as he can. My family needs the same things I need. Be the one to offer them.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Pneumonia Continued
A few days after I thought I had recovered from pneumonia, things went downhill again. Fatigue, light-headedness, nausea, merciless cough, chest congestion. My husband came home from work early to take me to my naturopath. Why didn't the pharmaceutical doctor's antibiotics kick this thing completely?
I was sent home with a lung tonic, megadoses of vitamin C, advice for my husband to administer cup percussion on my upper back, instructions for a wet sheet wrap, and orders to avoid dairy, sugar, citrus, and peanut products. After the first sheet wrap, I could actually feel my body healing itself. Within days I was back on my feet, albeit for only short periods of time.
The cough hung on for weeks. I got to spend a couple of solid hours with it every morning. By the way, an hour or two of nonstop coughing leaves a person feeling wiped out.
At this point, four and a half weeks after pneumonia day 1, I have a residual cough but am feeling almost "normal". I think if I hadn't crushed my left index finger on April 1 and had a huge cavity in one of my left molars, I would have recovered much more quickly from pneumonia, or maybe even avoided it altogether. There is only so much the body can do by way of recovery all at once. (Yes, there is evidence that with the right tools your body can, at least to some extent, repair a dental cavity.)
I did have my tooth filled this week, my crushed finger is still healing, and I'm continuing to take megadoses of vitamin C.
I was sent home with a lung tonic, megadoses of vitamin C, advice for my husband to administer cup percussion on my upper back, instructions for a wet sheet wrap, and orders to avoid dairy, sugar, citrus, and peanut products. After the first sheet wrap, I could actually feel my body healing itself. Within days I was back on my feet, albeit for only short periods of time.
The cough hung on for weeks. I got to spend a couple of solid hours with it every morning. By the way, an hour or two of nonstop coughing leaves a person feeling wiped out.
At this point, four and a half weeks after pneumonia day 1, I have a residual cough but am feeling almost "normal". I think if I hadn't crushed my left index finger on April 1 and had a huge cavity in one of my left molars, I would have recovered much more quickly from pneumonia, or maybe even avoided it altogether. There is only so much the body can do by way of recovery all at once. (Yes, there is evidence that with the right tools your body can, at least to some extent, repair a dental cavity.)
I did have my tooth filled this week, my crushed finger is still healing, and I'm continuing to take megadoses of vitamin C.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Pneumonia
I was pleasantly surprised to be still functioning at (my) normal capacity even though my husband and our youngest daughter had been suffering cold and flu symptoms for days, and then weeks. This means my immune system is strengthening! When my daughter was spiking a fever every night and lethargic during the day with a cough that never let up, I took her to the doctor, who diagnosed pneumonia.
Monday she was halfway through her antibiotics and was coming back to life, and I had a mild cough but no other symptoms and surprisingly, no more fatigue than any other day. In fact, I had been experiencing a little more energy than usual and was working in the yard--actual heavy lifting, not just fluffing soil with a cute trowel--and crushed my left index finger between a brick wall and a concrete planter. I didn't break the bone (pretty sure, time will tell) but I cleaned, bandaged, and iced the split finger, focused on breathing, found a safe place to lie down under a blanket, and kept the hand above my heart for the rest of the day.
Tuesday morning I built a plan of activities requiring little use of my left hand but plenty of mental occupation to keep my mind off the throbbing. By noon I had a fever. When my husband came home from work, I asked him to start making phone calls to cancel all my plans for Wednesday. I spent the next two days and nights on the couch with fire in every joint, pain in every muscle, 101° fever, horrible chills, no appetite, a hypoglycemic headache, an incessant cough, and thick despair. I injure a finger and my immune system just...gives up?
I wasn't sure which was more excruciating: the thought of staying like this any longer, or trying to get up. Thursday I called my mom and said, "If I can get dressed, could you take me to the doctor?" I had managed a sort of bath that morning but I hadn't been able to wash my hair for days. The best I could do was don a hat, trade the smelly sweats for my loosest pair of jeans, zip a sweatshirt over my sleeveless top, and sit on the couch while my older daughter slid my shoes on my feet.
The diagnosis was pneumonia, my mom picked up my prescriptions and returned me home where I swallowed dose number one and landed back in my comfortless nest, somewhere around noon. I know the drill, weeks or even months of recovery time to get back to my own normal, which is still miles behind everyone else's. Yes, I've been told it isn't a race, but then I've been left behind, too.
Five hours after the initial dose of antibiotics I went into my kitchen for a bowl of nutritious homemade chicken soup my mom had made for us. It was the first time I'd been in my kitchen in two days. (I normally live there.) Friday morning I took a shower and washed my hair. Conditioned it, too. I changed the bandage on my mangled finger for the first time.
Today, Saturday, I was up around five-thirty and folded three loads of clean laundry before going to the clinic with my husband and our oldest son where they, too were diagnosed with pneumonia. We picked up their prescriptions, then got them both home and dosed up and chicken souped and tucked in, and I set to work on the work that didn't do itself while I was "out". You'd expect I'd be exhausted. I'm not fully recovered, I'm still coughing, and I had to take several breaks today. But I've been this sick before, and I've never recovered this much this fast before. So...my immune system IS stronger.
Monday she was halfway through her antibiotics and was coming back to life, and I had a mild cough but no other symptoms and surprisingly, no more fatigue than any other day. In fact, I had been experiencing a little more energy than usual and was working in the yard--actual heavy lifting, not just fluffing soil with a cute trowel--and crushed my left index finger between a brick wall and a concrete planter. I didn't break the bone (pretty sure, time will tell) but I cleaned, bandaged, and iced the split finger, focused on breathing, found a safe place to lie down under a blanket, and kept the hand above my heart for the rest of the day.
Tuesday morning I built a plan of activities requiring little use of my left hand but plenty of mental occupation to keep my mind off the throbbing. By noon I had a fever. When my husband came home from work, I asked him to start making phone calls to cancel all my plans for Wednesday. I spent the next two days and nights on the couch with fire in every joint, pain in every muscle, 101° fever, horrible chills, no appetite, a hypoglycemic headache, an incessant cough, and thick despair. I injure a finger and my immune system just...gives up?
I wasn't sure which was more excruciating: the thought of staying like this any longer, or trying to get up. Thursday I called my mom and said, "If I can get dressed, could you take me to the doctor?" I had managed a sort of bath that morning but I hadn't been able to wash my hair for days. The best I could do was don a hat, trade the smelly sweats for my loosest pair of jeans, zip a sweatshirt over my sleeveless top, and sit on the couch while my older daughter slid my shoes on my feet.
The diagnosis was pneumonia, my mom picked up my prescriptions and returned me home where I swallowed dose number one and landed back in my comfortless nest, somewhere around noon. I know the drill, weeks or even months of recovery time to get back to my own normal, which is still miles behind everyone else's. Yes, I've been told it isn't a race, but then I've been left behind, too.
Five hours after the initial dose of antibiotics I went into my kitchen for a bowl of nutritious homemade chicken soup my mom had made for us. It was the first time I'd been in my kitchen in two days. (I normally live there.) Friday morning I took a shower and washed my hair. Conditioned it, too. I changed the bandage on my mangled finger for the first time.
Today, Saturday, I was up around five-thirty and folded three loads of clean laundry before going to the clinic with my husband and our oldest son where they, too were diagnosed with pneumonia. We picked up their prescriptions, then got them both home and dosed up and chicken souped and tucked in, and I set to work on the work that didn't do itself while I was "out". You'd expect I'd be exhausted. I'm not fully recovered, I'm still coughing, and I had to take several breaks today. But I've been this sick before, and I've never recovered this much this fast before. So...my immune system IS stronger.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Have the Children Help
I hear this a lot, and the concept is legit. It makes sense that if I can't keep up with the demands of everyday life I should recruit my children to help. The problem is that my children themselves are already overloaded.
Long before I was a diagnosed with adrenal fatigue, I already knew there was something slowing me down, and I taught my babies early on to take care of themselves. They learned to make their own beds when they were two years old. I wasn't particular about hospital corners, mind you. They put away their own clean laundry, helped wash dishes, and picked up their own toys. When they were tall enough, they ran the vacuum cleaner, dusted furniture, and loaded the washing machine.
They're teenagers now. Their school workloads are heavy and they have plenty of other work. They do a lot of the cooking, most of the yard work, and all of the pet care. My children are often called on for odd jobs or volunteer work because they are reputed responsible hard workers, and they are available during daytime hours because they are homeschool students. Besides their studies, volunteer work, paying jobs, yard chores, and household responsibilities, I try to make time for them to spend with friends. Teenagers need downtime, too. And somewhere in the middle of all that, a little family time would be nice if I can be rested enough.
Incidentally, very few of those who suggest I have my children help, have offered their own services. On the flip side, those who have extended a hand to me, have done so to my children as well. I may be the only one in this house who's been living in adrenal fatigue, but I'm not the only one in this house who's been living with it.
Long before I was a diagnosed with adrenal fatigue, I already knew there was something slowing me down, and I taught my babies early on to take care of themselves. They learned to make their own beds when they were two years old. I wasn't particular about hospital corners, mind you. They put away their own clean laundry, helped wash dishes, and picked up their own toys. When they were tall enough, they ran the vacuum cleaner, dusted furniture, and loaded the washing machine.
They're teenagers now. Their school workloads are heavy and they have plenty of other work. They do a lot of the cooking, most of the yard work, and all of the pet care. My children are often called on for odd jobs or volunteer work because they are reputed responsible hard workers, and they are available during daytime hours because they are homeschool students. Besides their studies, volunteer work, paying jobs, yard chores, and household responsibilities, I try to make time for them to spend with friends. Teenagers need downtime, too. And somewhere in the middle of all that, a little family time would be nice if I can be rested enough.
Incidentally, very few of those who suggest I have my children help, have offered their own services. On the flip side, those who have extended a hand to me, have done so to my children as well. I may be the only one in this house who's been living in adrenal fatigue, but I'm not the only one in this house who's been living with it.
One Year Later
A year after finally getting a diagnosis of adrenal exhaustion, I feel frustrated that I'm not "all better" now, but I have to look at the progress that has been made as opposed to the progress yet to be made.
Symptoms eradicated:
Always freezing cold
Frequent migraines
Chronic sinus infections and associated pain and pressure
Recurrent cold/flu
Narcolepsy
Swollen feeling in the neck
Heart palpitations
Suffocation feeling
Neck, back, and shoulder pain
Brain fog
Overwhelmed feeling
Dizziness
"Floaters" in vision (seeing spots)
Symptoms gone and returned:
Difficulty sleeping
Aching and burning in muscles and joints
Memory loss
Symptoms remaining:
Fatigue
Constant hunger
Frequent nausea
Stomach cramps
Hypoglycemia
Acne
Occasional shortness of breath
Loss of muscle strength
Eyes burning
Hyperpigmentation (brown spots on the backs of my hands)
So really, I have a shorter distance to travel than ground I have already covered. Along the journey has been a fascinating, enlightening, and unexpected side effect, in relationship experiences. Mutual understanding has turned casual acquaintances into stronger friendship with people who have experienced invisible illness. I am blessed with a strong support system, but it hasn't always come from the sources I would have expected. As my energy levels rise ever so slowly, I have a clearer vision than ever before for prioritizing the ways in which and the people in whom I will invest that energy.
Symptoms eradicated:
Always freezing cold
Frequent migraines
Chronic sinus infections and associated pain and pressure
Recurrent cold/flu
Narcolepsy
Swollen feeling in the neck
Heart palpitations
Suffocation feeling
Neck, back, and shoulder pain
Brain fog
Overwhelmed feeling
Dizziness
"Floaters" in vision (seeing spots)
Symptoms gone and returned:
Difficulty sleeping
Aching and burning in muscles and joints
Memory loss
Symptoms remaining:
Fatigue
Constant hunger
Frequent nausea
Stomach cramps
Hypoglycemia
Acne
Occasional shortness of breath
Loss of muscle strength
Eyes burning
Hyperpigmentation (brown spots on the backs of my hands)
So really, I have a shorter distance to travel than ground I have already covered. Along the journey has been a fascinating, enlightening, and unexpected side effect, in relationship experiences. Mutual understanding has turned casual acquaintances into stronger friendship with people who have experienced invisible illness. I am blessed with a strong support system, but it hasn't always come from the sources I would have expected. As my energy levels rise ever so slowly, I have a clearer vision than ever before for prioritizing the ways in which and the people in whom I will invest that energy.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Forbidden Fruit
I'd always wondered how soccer moms turned addicts until I was prescribed hydrocodone (the generic name for Vicodin) after having my wisdom teeth taken out.
One of my wisdom teeth had come in and developed a cavity, and had caused me trouble off and on for quite some time before I had it removed. After oral surgery, I started taking the prescription pain killer right away. I'd suffered enough from that tooth before it was removed.
It didn't take long to notice that I not only felt no pain from oral surgery, I also didn't have the neck and back pain or the headaches I was accustomed to, or the throbbing in the bunion on my foot. I fell promptly to sleep every night. I woke up refreshed in the morning. I stayed fully awake throughout the day. My mind was sharp and my time was organized. I got everything done that needed to get done, and the household was under control. I was June Cleaver and Mr. Clean all rolled into one.
My husband said I was high. I didn't feel high, I just felt normal, or, like what I thought a normal person should feel like.
When there was only one pill left in the bottle that said "1 refill", it was so hard not to go down to the pharmacy and pick up one more bottle. I knew I didn't need it, the extraction sites after my oral surgery were healing nicely and there wasn't any pain, but it had been so nice to feel normal.
My son recently had oral surgery and he had his own hydrocodone prescription. With constant extreme fatigue, pain in my muscles, burning in the joints, inability to keep up with life's demands, and the recent return of insomnia, it has been so difficult to refrain from "borrowing" just one little pill from his prescription. All my problems could be resolved if I could take just one.
But I didn't do it.
One of my wisdom teeth had come in and developed a cavity, and had caused me trouble off and on for quite some time before I had it removed. After oral surgery, I started taking the prescription pain killer right away. I'd suffered enough from that tooth before it was removed.
It didn't take long to notice that I not only felt no pain from oral surgery, I also didn't have the neck and back pain or the headaches I was accustomed to, or the throbbing in the bunion on my foot. I fell promptly to sleep every night. I woke up refreshed in the morning. I stayed fully awake throughout the day. My mind was sharp and my time was organized. I got everything done that needed to get done, and the household was under control. I was June Cleaver and Mr. Clean all rolled into one.
My husband said I was high. I didn't feel high, I just felt normal, or, like what I thought a normal person should feel like.
When there was only one pill left in the bottle that said "1 refill", it was so hard not to go down to the pharmacy and pick up one more bottle. I knew I didn't need it, the extraction sites after my oral surgery were healing nicely and there wasn't any pain, but it had been so nice to feel normal.
My son recently had oral surgery and he had his own hydrocodone prescription. With constant extreme fatigue, pain in my muscles, burning in the joints, inability to keep up with life's demands, and the recent return of insomnia, it has been so difficult to refrain from "borrowing" just one little pill from his prescription. All my problems could be resolved if I could take just one.
But I didn't do it.
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