...and back to reality

Heaven, I'm in heaven...

Actually, I'm in St. Kitts, but close enough...

and, amazingly, wonderfully & surprisingly - I feel GRRreat!!!

Swimming, lazing about, snorkeling, eating delicious fish, making Vitamin D, what more could I ask for.

Catching Up

Hello and Happy New Year!

Sorry for the hiatus, but when I'm not feeling well, I hate talking about it, even on my blog, which I created so that I could talk about it...

When you last heard from me, I was in Florida with my family. I did my best to keep up with everyone, but it was a slog. Shopping trips were cut short so I could get back to the condo to nap, swimming (which started strong) fell down to a crawl until even the security guard at the pool commented that I was looking tired.

Mostly I wanted to be alone, as I felt I was always disappointing my mother with my persistent fatigue.

But if Florida was tough, coming home was worse. I watched my energy nose-dive until walking up and down the stairs left me collapsed on the floor, trying to catch my breath.

"Maybe you're just out of shape", mom offered.

"But Mom, I was just swimming 80 laps a day, three weeks ago", I hissed.

"Well, yes, that's true..."

"I walked with you up and down the beach for miles." Why does no one else see that this doesn't make sense?

"Well, yes, I see what you mean," she said, but she didn't. She really thought I needed to just hit the treadmill.

I suppose secretly I hoped myself that maybe my cardio just needed some work. I hit the treadmill with a 5 minute run. It was heaven. I felt refreshed and more alive than I had been in months. The next day was fabulous, I was full of energy and thinking of getting back to school.

The following day I did not leave my bed. Nor the day after. Nor the day after that. Standing up made me so dizzy that I couldn't even make it through mass. My heart would pound and beg me to sit or kneel.

My doctor ran blood tests and called me back to say everything looked fine. I asked for a copy of the report and scrutinized every line of reference ranges.

I noticed that while not flagged, my TSH was 4.2, much higher than the usual 1.0 to which I had become accustomed. Could that small a change make me feel this miserable? Clearly the answer was yes.

Oh yes, and my ferritin was back down to measly 45, despite daily iron supplements.

And lastly, my fasting blood sugar was one point away from hypoglycemia at 3.7 mmol/l (64 mg/dl). A look at my A1c showed that low blood sugar was at least a three month trend.

Low thyroid, low iron, low blood sugar. No wonder I felt eight shades of miserable. But since none of the tests were 'flagged', everything must be good, right?

And the mystery ANA? It remained a 'high positive' at 1:640.

While my concierge-family-physician thought everything looked good, my psychiatrist (who was also copied on the tests) called me a few days later and walked through the results with me; confirming that my blood tests were odd, even though still technically within range.

I find it ironic that my psychiatrist seems to be the only physician who believes that something is wrong with me...physically.

A little extra Synthroid and 2012 would be off to a better start, right?

Well, maybe...

Doctor's Orders

As the days have been getting shorter, my mood is falling slightly. Also, my recent Vitamin D test showed significant deficiency.

I love my psychiatrist; he tells me to up my Vit D to 2000 IU/day....then he stops and says "Why don't you just go to sunnier climate for a few weeks?"

I cannot change weather, so I am packing up and heading south; this is one of the few times I will not argue with my physician's recommendations :)

Overdoing It

In my quest to feel useful last week, I decided to tackle our garden. The beautiful summer weather had turned my manicured lines of day-lillies into a small jungle.

With help from my mother (who is over 70 years old!), I spent hours digging up, clipping and splitting day-lilly plants. It was physical work, do doubt, but it didn't seem too onorous.

...until the next morning. HOLY CRUMBS. I have never been so sore in my life from exercise.

This was no ordinary 'after burn' from a workout. This was brutal. I could barely walk, stand or lie down comfortably. The pain mocked the efforts of Tylenol and Advil.

For the first time, I stopped to consider that I might, might, actually have Fibromyalgia.

Before all of this crap started, I used to run regularly, work out at the gym and rock climb. There were times when it took days to get over some of my workouts, but those times were nothing like this.

Fast forward one week and I am moving much more easily, but I still HURT.

My garden, however, looks beautiful. Maybe this weekend I will plant some tulip bulbs...

time off (or 'what will people think?')

It's official - my year-long leave of absence has been approved. For the first time since I was a teenager, I find myself both unemployed and out of school.

I actually have nothing to do. 

Brilliant Husband and I are beyond fortunate to have a housekeeper/goddess/friend who takes care of us two days a week. This woman is a Godsend; she bakes us homemade gluten-free bread and makes fresh yogurt and jams, she does our laundry and keeps all 4000 square feet of our house clean.  Even though I could probably take on more house work with my new-found free time, I am soaking up the wonderfulness of having so much help.

Whether the balance of my symptoms are caused by depression, chronic fatigue syndrome, lupus or narcolepsy; it doesn't change the fact that there are still some things within my control: like sleep, food & exercise. For now I am working on getting myself on to a schedule and working to build my physical strength and endurance. It is a slow crawl right now, but each day gets a little better. 

Even though I know that taking time off is the right decision, I still worry that people are going to judge me; that they will think less of me for being at home, or accuse me of being a 'lady of leisure'. I wish that everyone could understand that having time off isn't that great when you aren't feeling well enough to enjoy it. But at the same time, I also know how privileged I am to have this luxury.

This is an interesting time in my life, I've never felt so adrift.

Did my dog have a seizure?

Yesterday, my puppy (ok, he's 3 years old, but he'll always be my 'puppy') was acting a little bit off. Something about his usual peppy step was just a little slower than usual.

While taking a short break from tug-of-war with his brother, he did something very odd:

Puppy started to shake. His eyes rolled up into his head and moved about in a flickering sort of motion. It lasted only seconds and afterwards he seemed back to normal.

We lost our senior dog, Elliott, three years ago to a brain tumour (somewhat common in Boston Terriers), so this development has Brilliant Hubby and I both a little freaked out and worried about Puppy's life span.

From everything I've read online, it seems that there isn't much a vet can do about a single seizure, so many recommend watchful waiting to see if it happens again.

Today Puppy seems to be his playful, happy, boisterous self. 

Has anyone had this happen with their dog? What did you do?