tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47924258731043290552024-03-13T11:13:44.899-05:00Dumpling's DiariesMy journey with Multiple SclerosisSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-59343753346623387972012-02-26T19:11:00.000-06:002012-02-26T19:11:07.270-06:00Success...maybe...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today has been an "ARE YOU FRIKKIN KIDDING ME?!?!" kind of day. It's been so ridiculous I just can't help but laugh. Mostly. The whole thing is just...crap. It's really the sort of thing that makes it incredibly difficult to keep getting back up and trudging on. I've gone back and forth from feeling sorry for myself to gritting my teeth, to wanting to scream obscenities, to being able to laugh about it. It's been exhausting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've mentioned before that I've been having trouble with my Copaxone treatments. The giant, angry, red, hot injection site welts have still been happening. They're still just as bad as the first time. I'd been procrastinating having the nurse come to show us how to do the shots without the auto-injector. It may sound like a fairly simple and straightforward thing because we've all gotten shots plenty of times, how hard can it be? Well trust me, when it comes to doing your own, you want someone there to show you exactly how to do it. It's absolutely terrifying. I had hundreds of scenarios in my head of the things that could go wrong. The nurse came yesterday morning and I swear I almost had a panic attack. The nurse, Cory, and I all sat at the table and went through the steps and talked about it. My heart was racing and palms sweating. Basically, you pinch your fat, stick the needle in, and push the plunger thing, then pull the needle straight out. I sat there for a few minutes with the needle hovering above my pinched fat and wanted to throw up. This is a completely unnatural thing to do! It's absurd to me that I could actually look longingly for the comfort of the blasted auto-injector. Kind of funny, really. It actually crossed my mind that maybe I could just get used to the welts. I don't know why it's so much more frightening than the first time I did the auto-injector. Maybe it's because it was easier to forget what it actually was when it was in the bulky injector? When you're holding a syringe in your hand and can feel the cool glass and see the actual needle, there is no mistaking what you're doing. This is a shot. No one likes shots. And I'm supposed to be ok doing it. To.My.Self. Ugh! The idea of the welts was starting not to be so bad at that point. I could just wear 3/4 length sleeves or not do them in my arms at all! Yeah! Then I remembered seeing myself naked in the mirror the other day after I got out of the shower. I felt really sorry for the woman in the mirror. I'd scratched a welt on my stomach raw in my sleep. So that was swollen, red, and now raw. Both thighs had swollen red welts the size of oranges from that day and the previous day's injections and bruises just as big from last week's welts. So, I did it. I poked the needle in and administered the shot (almost) like a champ. I am pleased to report the injection site did not swell up into an angry mass of heat emitting crud afterward. I still have about a pea sized knot there, but it's 345774984 times better and not itchy. I did this injection in my stomach since it was the easiest. Again, yay for fat!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today I must have felt adventurous. Or stupid. I'm not sure. At any rate, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I decided to try administering the shot in the arm since that is a little more tricky. My reasoning was that I'd do that while Cory's home in case I had a situation or something. What makes the arm tricky is you have to pinch the fat and, unless you have 3 hands, ya kinda have to improvise. The nurse showed me to sit sideways in a chair and put your arm over the back of it and kind of roll your arm towards your body so it like lays the fatty part of your arm out for you. I made up my mind beforehand that I was going to be brave and just do it quickly and get it over with. And I did!! Almost immediately, though, I realized something was wrong. My arm started twitching and really hurt incredibly bad. Apparently, I went too far back and nicked the muscle. Hence, the wanting to scream obscenities. It really frikkin hurt. BAD. I ran around the house a few times, debating beating my head on the wall, hoping the pain would subside after a few moments. I equate this to doing the pee pee dance when you really gotta go. It really serves no purpose other than to give your body a distraction. It didn't help. Just keeping it perfectly still is the only thing that helped. So, after struggling through breakfast, I sat on the couch with my arm propped up and a cool pack on the afflicted area and read my book. I sat this way for several hours. I don't even have the words to describe the pain. It hurt from my elbow to my shoulder and the small amount of movement I could muster brought tears to my eyes. We went for a walk this afternoon and I'm convinced I looked like a stroke patient with my arm plastered firmly to my body. So, yes, I find that to be so completely ridiculous that I've now traded the welts for THIS? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? I was completely unable to use my right arm for the better part of the day. This isn't even the MS beating me down, it's the treatment. How messed up is that? Yes, I get it, I clearly administered the shot wrong. I completely understand that. And that is terrifying as hell! There is no room for error. That little tiny needle is incredibly unforgiving. That is really incredibly difficult to want to go back to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am now able to use my arm again with minimal pain. I called the Copaxone folks and left a message for the nurse explaining my situation. The on call nurse called back and advised yes, it sounds like I hit the muscle. She said if I can't pinch 2 inches I need to go in at a 45 degree angle instead of at 90 degrees. Ah yes, I remember the nurse mentioning something about that in the training. I thought it was a matter of personal preference, not necessity. Ok. Alright. Got it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now that my arm is feeling better I can look back at the day and giggle. It's not funny in any normal sense of the word, but it's just so...the opposite of what's supposed to happen. You get shots to protect you or make you feel better, not to incapacitate yourself. I will try this again tomorrow and if it doesn't end in complete paralysis I will consider it a success. That, really, is the MS experience. It's learning to redefine what you consider a success. It's overcoming challenges. It's conquering demons. It's doing the bullcrap even though you don't wanna. It's getting over whatever hump has been thrown in your path.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, aside from the whole "not being able to move my arm all day" thing, I'd consider the manual injections to be a success. I now have 2 injection sites that aren't swollen, angry looking, or itchy. Woo hoo!!</span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-67732830450774396292012-02-15T21:27:00.000-06:002012-02-15T21:27:46.414-06:00Blessings<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tonight I ran into a friend from way waaay back. The encounter, though brief, was something I didn't know I even needed, but now I know I did. It brings tears to my eyes and chills down my spine to recognize that this blessing was over a decade in the making. I haven't even seen him in over a dozen years. He was the roommate of a guy I dated. A few years ago he discovered we both played in a local darts organization and we corresponded a few times and are friends on Facebook. A few weeks ago, he bumped into my husband at a dart event (I wasn't there) and he and Cory chatted and my MS came up. Come to find out he has it too! I never knew! He seems so...normal! He was arriving tonight just as I was dropping Cory off for darts and I am at a loss for words to describe the impact seeing him had on me. I have spent countless hours reading message boards and blogs and informational websites and articles written by and about people with MS and it's freaking scary, man! The disease is a nightmare for a lot of people. And that's what I'm reminded of a lot when I go searching for something seemingly harmless. So, seeing this man driving himself around, getting around on his on two feet without any hindrances, looking all normal-like...wow! Yes! That's what I needed! I needed to see with my own eyes that MS people can look just like everyone else. I needed to be reminded that even if bad spells come, they can pass. I needed to be reminded that sometimes out of our heartaches can come blessings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This MS thing has caused me, my family, and my friends a lot of heartache. I don't know what it will be or how long we'll have to wait, but I'm certain something good will come of this one day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I had to chuckle a little as I proof read this. As I got to the end of the first paragraph it reminded me of those clips you see on National Geographic of someone holding a mirror in front of a monkey and finally the monkey realizes it's herself in the mirror. That's exactly what that experience was like, honestly! It's like finally seeing myself and realizing I still look all normal-like. Hey! Maybe I'm ok too!</span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-75054798744970786702012-02-04T12:21:00.000-06:002012-02-04T12:21:18.068-06:00A weight has been lifted!<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had my annual brain MRI this week (results are pending). As I was laying there, I thought back to my first MRI experience and how much has changed since then. There have been so many learning experiences along the way, some more painful than others. We have bumbled along, backtracked, crashed, and beat our heads against the wall countless times. There's no road map for this and even if there was, I'm positive we'd have thrown that away and blazed our own trail. So, here are a few nuggets I've picked up in the last 18 months:</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<ul><li>Doctors are human and will be wrong now and then.</li>
<li>Never, ever, ever, EVER go to a specialist alone, even if you think it's just a routine visit. Just don't!</li>
<li>Laughter really is the best medicine, just not while you're trying to hold your tinkle.</li>
<li>Not everyone in the health care system actually cares.</li>
<li>Sometimes you have to throw a fit to get people to listen. Make sure you mean what you say. And be prepared to apologize.</li>
<li>If you're a patient in the hospital, accept the fact that you WILL be embarrassed. They know it, so just embrace it and move on.</li>
<li>Doctors don't always have all the answers. "We don't know" will just have to suffice.</li>
<li>Don't ask "what's that smell?" in a hospital.</li>
<li>It really and truly can get worse. I promise. It can also get better.</li>
<li>It's OK to tell a doctor no.</li>
<li>If you and your doctor can't effectively communicate, find a new one. He/she is the one with the knowledge and should be willing to listen to your questions and answer them without putting you off. Remember, YOU (and your insurance) are paying him/her. </li>
<li>You can be hopeful and realistic at the same time.</li>
<li>It's OK to feel sorry for yourself now and then. It's not weak. It's human nature. Grieving for oneself should be expected. Just make sure you pick yourself up and move along.</li>
<li>Take care of yourself as well as you'd take care of your children. They need you! You're capable of more than you think! Don't underestimate yourself. Ever.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></li>
</ul><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We're in the middle of a big change right now. Let me preface this by letting you know I am a fairly predictable person. I don't like surprises. I like order. I like things planned out to the nth degree. I am very cautious and make very well thought out, calculated decisions with backup plans and every imaginable scenario covered. I do NOT fly by the seat of my pants. But, after seven years at my job, due to a long string of ugly events, Cory and I agreed it's time for me to move on. So, I quit my job this week. I don't have anything else lined up either. EEK! This is just what needed to happen though. We have some rough backup plans, but nothing definite. And I'm OK with that. I am very much at peace right now. In the weeks leading up to this decision, I'd been extremely stressed. I've fully expected some sort of flare up to come join in the fracas. There was one incident about two weeks ago, but we're not sure if it's the MS, an anxiety attack, or being sick (allergies + congestion). I had this horrible sensation in my chest and diaphragm area. It was like I had a string around my insides and someone was cinching it. It was excruciating. It scared the dickens out of us. I went on to work and eventually the pain subsided. I'd really like not to experience that again. I also had a migraine yesterday. I knew that was going to happen. I talked to my doctor about them a while back and expressed my aggravation that my migraines always happen on the weekends so I wondered if there was something in my home that was causing them. He explained that it sounded like they're brought on by stress, so once the stressful situation is out of the way, the body lets it's defenses down and whammo! Migraine City! Lovely. He also gave me a prescription for what I call my "chill pills" to kick the migraine's butt. Use to, I'd suffer through them with a cool washcloth over my eyes for the entire day. Now, I take the chill pill when I feel it coming and it knocks me out for a few hours and I wake up feeling human. I'm not a huge fan of taking medications but if you've ever had a migraine, you understand it is absolute misery. I've tried everything imaginable. I am soooo incredibly glad my doctor gave me that. I'm hopeful that's the worst of what's going to happen. The stress has been lifted and I feel completely revived and like a new person. I feel like I was living in darkness for a long time and didn't even realize it, and now I'm back out in the warm sunshine. I'm excited! It feels good! </span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-91433507556429920182012-01-11T22:30:00.000-06:002012-01-11T22:30:00.448-06:00HopeI've been struggling with how to write this particular entry for a while. Describing my own experiences is one of the things I find very troublesome about this disease. It's actually quite difficult sometimes to express what's going on without causing alarm, but also without minimizing it too much. I feel like sometimes stating what's going on comes across as complaining. I hate feeling like Debbie Downer. I'm sure this is all in my head because I have the absolute best support group in my family and friends. But I really hate it. I hate that I'm suffering but even more, I hate that the people who love me know I'm suffering. It gets really old. I get sick to death of saying the same things over and over. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to be a bother or cause anyone concern. I just want to be me, not MS. <br />
The internet can be a great resource, but some of the things I want to know just aren't out there. Since being diagnosed one of my biggest questions has been "what can I expect?" I've read <a href="http://www.webmd.com/multiple-sclerosis/default.htm" target="_blank">WebMd</a> (very useful) and <a href="http://www.nationalmssociety.org/index.aspx" target="_blank">National MS Society</a> (useful as well) and I've talked to my doctors and even a few people who have MS too. But it's such a bizarre disease. The symptoms can vary greatly from one person to another and even from one day to the next with the same person. It's like asking someone what a sunset is like. It varies! Only time will tell.<br />
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So, after reading about what MS is, I was sufficiently freaked out. OMG! I'm going to need diapers?! I'm only 34. That does not work for me. What?! I'm going to go blind in one or both eyes?! Holy crap! This felt not like a death sentence, but like a torture sentence. It's been a year since the diagnosis and I'm not in diapers and can still see (albeit just as bad as before ha ha!) so, I thought it might be helpful and reassuring for you if I tell you what <em>my</em> brand of MS is like so you don't assume the worst.<br />
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The absolute biggest change this disease has had is psychological. This is a messed up disease. There is no cure. They don't know even what causes it. Pardon my French but I'm scared shitless! I'm scared I'll wake up one day and not be able to move my legs. Or that I'll wake up and be blind. Or worse. There are countless ways this disease can debilitate me. There's no guarantee those things will happen. It's possible I'll go the rest of my life and it will never bother me again. But it's always there. Whispering in my ear. Pulling at my feet. Clawing at my legs. Waiting for the worst possible opportunity to pounce. This disease is a constant reminder that I am not invincible. I am constantly scared my body is going to fail me. <br />
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Is there anything unpleasant that you think about every single day? Sometimes several times a day? That's MS for me. Every time I stumble or have a pain or can't remember something I wonder if that moment is the beginning of an exacerbation. It can quickly turn into an obsession. When things are moving along normally, I don't think about the disease. Most of the time, I'm just me, living life and cruising along. <br />
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Before I started the treatment I felt like there was a huge object looming over my head getting closer and closer every day and I wasn't doing anything to keep it from dropping on my head. That realization was a big turning point in making the decision to start the treatments. I know that no one knows what the future holds, but having a chronic disease gives a little hint that there's something bad waiting for me and there's a pretty good chance I'll meet up with it. Bleh! I'm a planner. How do I plan with this? It's a cruel joke. I am acutely aware that there's literally no telling what tomorrow has in store for me. This is something I'm trying to come to grips with. I feel like I need to have a backup plan for everything just because I have this MS monkey on my back. I feel like I have to take IT into consideration all the time. What if I get too hot? What if I get worn out? What if I have an episode? Good grief. I think this is what people mean about moving on and coping. It's frustrating. There's not a break from it. IT comes on vacation with us. IT comes on date night with us. IT is there for all the holidays. IT just sits there, hiding, waiting. <br />
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I'm grouchy at the MS more lately. Stupid thing! Go on with your bad self. Leave me alone! I know it's because I'm really struggling with the treatments and I'm stressed about the various hiccups that spring up in life. Stress can trigger an exacerbation. So, I find myself stressing about stressing. Gah! I'm constantly reminding myself to chill. I am so thankful for my husband, who is the most laid-back person I think I've ever met. He is definitely my pillar of strength through this debacle. <br />
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So, besides the psychological affects, my other chief complaint is my legs and feet. I often get a "pins and needles" feeling in my feet. It's not like when your feet go to sleep. This is more like someone is poking my feet with needles. Sometimes it makes me jump. Most of the time it's just annoying and mildly painful. It doesn't affect my ability to walk though. I'm not quite sure how to describe the problems with my legs. I usually refer to it as "my legs are screaming". When they start acting up, they're very vocal. It's not like an ache in the bone. Sometimes it's the muscles that scream and protest but I think that may be from a lack of exercise. Most of the time when they hurt it's a searing pain in the whole leg. Occaisionally it makes it hard to walk normally, but most of the time I can muddle through it. My feet and legs don't bother me every single day. I think it's maybe a few times a week, especially when I'm exhausted or stressed. <br />
About the treatments...ugh! I'm committed to them and I'm really glad we made the decision that this was definitely what we wanted, because otherwise I'm not sure I'd have the willpower to continue them. I do my shots out of hope. There's no guarantee they'll prevent me from having another exacerbation, but I hold on to the hope that this is going to work. I cling to the hope that this will help me from deteriorating. I am hopeful that there will be better, more effective treatments that are easier to deal with. I hope. I hope. I hope. I hope!!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-63672835430242410872011-11-28T23:10:00.000-06:002011-11-28T23:10:21.060-06:00Yay for fat!I have now been doing my treatments for 17 days. That is 17 pokes with a needle. 17 "oh nuts!! Here we go again"s. 17 times of saying "THIS SUCKS!!". It's gotten old already. I'm tired of it. Here is the beginning of a blog entry I started a few days ago:<br />
Tonight will be my third night of treatments. I'm really not looking forward to it. Ok, I'm flat out dreading it. Every time I do it, it makes me more anxious about doing it again. This sucks. I can tell my my inner four year old wants to make an appearance and throw a tantrum. <sigh><br />
Cory interrupted at that point and said it was time to do the treatment. I didn't get around to finishing the entry. This blog thing is kind of difficult. It's actually quite a challenge for me to just put my true thoughts and feelings out for the entire world to see. I feel kinda naked! I don't want to be pitied or judged. I <em>really</em> don't want you to feel sorry for me. The two things that have been a blessing from God through this are 1) my support network of friends and family and 2) a sense of humor. Without both of those I would be most certainly in a world of despair. So, I'm alright. Not loving it by any means, but enduring it as best we can together and with a smile, however crazy that smile may look.<br />
Now, about the treatments...I can't help but roll my eyes when I think of it. Who's brilliant idea was this?! I mean really! This is 2011 and still the most effective MS treatment is a daily punishment? Are you kidding me? There is an oral pill on the market but that's kind of a "coming out with your bazookas blazing" sort of treatment. The side affects are pretty crazy and definitely not worth the risk. I'm at the "peering around the corner with the pellet gun" stage. Hopefully we never need the heavy artillery. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Before starting these treatments I held onto the hope that I was getting all worked up for nothing and I'd look back and chuckle about my first few times doing it. Noooo. I do chuckle a little, but it's more because I was a bit naive and overly hopeful. This really does suck. It sucked then and it still sucks now, 16 days later. Booooo! I think if anything, it's harder for me now to muster up the courage to do it because now I really know what to expect and I can see that this isn't getting any better. Craaaaaap! I am so completely sick and tired of pulling on my big girl pants! They're worn out! </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Here is my routine: I lay out all my fixins'.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqi-pBtCzckAkyuEG98fMskkpKCHPko6L2BAh8hivTgi_KQ4JNPE3DodVhbN0K8IkLmfaUSs7iYE_VF92uXCGrLRSDRkmkVjEibdpo33o9q_1rF-l3_c8l1EW2b9hH5pyszgeKZKbXMcNS/s1600/copaxone.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqi-pBtCzckAkyuEG98fMskkpKCHPko6L2BAh8hivTgi_KQ4JNPE3DodVhbN0K8IkLmfaUSs7iYE_VF92uXCGrLRSDRkmkVjEibdpo33o9q_1rF-l3_c8l1EW2b9hH5pyszgeKZKbXMcNS/s320/copaxone.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then I sit there grumbling and glaring at it for a little while. Finally, I suck it up and get it over with. I hate that I do this eeeveeeryyy single day. I hate that I have to do this to my body. I hate that I hate it. It's really not the actual injecting that I hate. It's the after effects. I'll get to that in a minute. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After I do the injection I mark the injection site on my little chart thing like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QUfabg0Ie9IteZvtaPdGkOqWVZSUB7MFfhf8p1gbjnm8ivUKy89_Qd8xHFeFR8RCCfv71LqvVtvGcnOhQmBx6ITDY9OtcUV6OUbfAUrqHz-DuwjYIQF37wBNU-8xSdIm6jUGfCYAIGpt/s1600/chart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QUfabg0Ie9IteZvtaPdGkOqWVZSUB7MFfhf8p1gbjnm8ivUKy89_Qd8xHFeFR8RCCfv71LqvVtvGcnOhQmBx6ITDY9OtcUV6OUbfAUrqHz-DuwjYIQF37wBNU-8xSdIm6jUGfCYAIGpt/s320/chart.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> About 30 seconds after the injection, THIS happens:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbG4CHcnbOcwVNqiehBpnlKoAnDTcjrvFEJdbtRdpKi1RE6e884bpV5iyOXxHuBNUprOERucptaS0t8u1snSwZy2LJF-yH7ZUv1kQ5SU0pDuB1oU2l-JAJvRm8HjQCmvviwMVG7BHZD2C/s1600/owie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbG4CHcnbOcwVNqiehBpnlKoAnDTcjrvFEJdbtRdpKi1RE6e884bpV5iyOXxHuBNUprOERucptaS0t8u1snSwZy2LJF-yH7ZUv1kQ5SU0pDuB1oU2l-JAJvRm8HjQCmvviwMVG7BHZD2C/s320/owie.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">No, not getting random glitter on my skin. The blob of "ugh!!" next to the circle. Yeah, that's normal according to the drug company. I'm sorry but I disagree. And that's just the beginning too! About a minute after the injection, it stings like any old shot you've had at the doctor's office. Then, the liquid fire under the skin kicks in and makes me want to chew my arm off. It swells up and looks like I'm smuggling some sort of small creature under my skin. It's weird and gross and painful. I do not have enough excess skin for this type of malarky to take place, ok? It usually swells to about the size of a golf ball, but doesn't protrude from the skin quite that far. It's really just under the skin and super sensitive and tough in that area. It's like a nasty bruise under the skin. Oh, and it emits heat too. Lovely. You don't realize how often things come into contact with your arms and legs until you start giving yourself injections that take a day or longer to recover from. The arms are the absolute worst. It's administerd towards the back of the top part of the arm in the fatty area. Well, when you put a golf ball under the skin up there, it's pretty uncomfortable to move the arms around. The stomach is the best place. It still swells up a bit, but not nearly as bad. I never dreamed I'd be thankful for a little extra flubber around the midsection. On stomach day I think "yay for fat!" to myself. Weirdo. Hmph how odd that we can come to appreciate certain funkier sides of ourselves when they're put to a better use. I'd certainly love to lose a little weight, but dear Lord, I am so glad I've got a little extra to go around right now. So, this year I am even more thankful for all the food I've consumed. I'm grateful for every pizza, donut, and cookie that lingers on my tummy. Yay for fat!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-13084217535552274482011-11-05T00:06:00.000-05:002011-11-05T00:07:13.356-05:00Polishing a turdOn September 13, 2010 I started my day with a feeling of accomplishment. The four previous months had been rough. I was still recovering from what we were told was a stroke. It was also my birthday and a huge milestone for me considering the stroke business. I went to work that morning and was delighted with the cupcake and balloons from my coworkers. It was going to be a great day! <br />
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Around 10 that morning, the first thing that worried me was how incredibly hot I was all of a sudden. Hot to the point I swear my hair was sweating. I was disoriented and sort of...detached feeling. I don't know quite how to describe the feeling exactly other than I felt seriously out of sorts and unsteady. I left work and went home to lay down, hoping that would help. It didn't. Cory rushed home and we went to my neurologist's office. (I had been under his care since the "stroke".) He checked me out and was unconcerned and said sometimes people experience aftershocks when they've had brain events. Cory and I were scared to death and insisted on having an MRI. He agreed and said he'd call us that evening with the results if it was another stroke, but he was confident it wasn't so don't worry. Riiiight.<br />
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That was a very anxious evening. We tried not to worry about it and finally breathed a sigh of relief when we hadn't heard from him by 10. No news is good news, right? He called the next morning and said it definitely wasn't a stroke but they need to schedule me for some tests. The MRI revealed 5 lesions in different areas of my brain which usually points to Multiple Sclerosis. Excuse me? This would be the beginning of our new vocabulary. <br />
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I had a spinal tap shortly after that. I'll do anything to not have to go through that again. Just the thought of having another one makes me want to cry/vomit/kick/punch/scream and did I mention cry? The procedure itself was fine and painless. I laid down the entire day as I was told, but the next 3 days I endured the most excruciating headache I've ever had. Sitting down put pressure on my spinal cord and that in turn made my head feel like it was being squeezed. I've suffered from migraines for over 10 years and this was way worse than that. I've heard this is not common and that most people do just fine afterwards. Whatever.<br />
The spinal tap was testing to see if there are any <span style="background-color: white;">oligoconal </span>bands (O-bands) present in my cerebrospinal fluid (CSF). There were 6. Anything over 4 or 5 is considered clinically positive for MS. The number of O-bands doesn't have any relationship to the severity of the disease though.<br />
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So now, fast forward a year and here we are. I'll get to the important stuff in between, but that's the main chapter of the beginning of my MS story. <br />
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I talked to the Copaxone folks last week and they are doing the legwork to get me all squared away on the treatments. They call it therapy. Whatever. <br />
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The drug company has a support system called Shared Solutions that has really helped a lot. They're the ones coordinating the show, which is a blessing. I know it's in Copaxone's financial interest for me to have this go as smooth as possible, and I'm fine with that. If you have ever tried to orchestrate your own medical care you now it can be a nightmare. <br />
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They sent me my auto injector last week. They told me I could just put it aside until I have my training on how to give myself the treatments. I managed to wait a few days before tearing open the package like it was Christmas morning. I don't know what I expected, but I was sorely disappointed when I saw the device. My first instinct was to toss it away from me. I know I made a disgusted face at it. It's very intimidating to me and I don't like it. I don't want anything to do with that .... <em>thing</em>. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5l0s4vHjb3wJ47JSvClnKRlrAghVt1A5e0WZLODtjA3_LQGsrYRcdyQ7iYXdmQHUP19HU3_MfvTbqoHoHGHvuonGaCeHUtGbogVJxQG4x54EZw45yzx9BnuotaX7K3JKIMN0Zk4OZnpb/s1600/injector.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5l0s4vHjb3wJ47JSvClnKRlrAghVt1A5e0WZLODtjA3_LQGsrYRcdyQ7iYXdmQHUP19HU3_MfvTbqoHoHGHvuonGaCeHUtGbogVJxQG4x54EZw45yzx9BnuotaX7K3JKIMN0Zk4OZnpb/s320/injector.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I have lunch every Tuesday with my Dad and I was telling him about this wretched device. I was lamenting the fact that I just really don't like it. It's bulky, daunting, and ugly. He suggested I decorate it to my own liking; put some sparkles and ribbons or something on it. I love this! This is the ultimate polishing the turd! You may be rolling your eyes that this is really trivial and I do recognize that the device itself should not be judged on it's looks, but on it's function. But I don't care. I know it's really the procedure I'm dreading and not the device itself but I do declare I will add a touch of whimsy and sparkle do my daily injection.<br />
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So after coming to the realization that this doesn't have to be an ugly, dreadful thing, we took it a step further and went on to discuss that I don't have to view this disease as an ugly, dreadful thing either. It's part of who I am now and I will try to make peace with it and go with the flow. I am confident my good days will far outnumber the bad, but if the bad days do come, I'm hopeful we'll be able to polish that turd too.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4792425873104329055.post-36406776954592157932011-10-23T21:42:00.000-05:002011-10-23T21:42:26.112-05:00Here it is<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have been toying with the idea of a blog for a while. It seems like such a great outlet of expression, but every time I've sat down to write, I go blank. I realized tonight it's the vulnerability of just laying it all out there for the world to see that's getting me. Well, here it is. Here is the story of me in all its flawed, fabulous, and frightening glory. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've titled this "Dumpling's Diaries" as a nod to my late Grandmother. This blog is about my journey with multiple sclerosis and at times will probably be unpleasant. My Grandmother's name for me since I was a toddler was her Strawberry Dumpling. She'd given me a piece of dumpling dough to keep me busy and instead of playing with it I wrapped it around a strawberry and ate it! Weird, I know, but when I hear it or see it, I feel warm and am reminded of love. So, even if I have to loathe the things I write about, at least the name makes me smile. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most people who know me probably aren't aware yet of this whole "MS saga" we're going through. It's not because I don't want people to know exactly. It's more of a "this has been a journey that's been hard to keep up with then suddenly here we are" kind of thing. Plus, let's face it, it's kind of a buzz kill. I don't want people to feel sorry for me or feel awkward about it. I'm just me... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Along the way with this blog I'll try and fill in the holes of how we've gotten to this point. The bottom line is that last fall I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. We have come (kicking and screaming, heels dug in) to the point in the road where we (I) will start treatments. The treatment is a daily injection called Copaxone. This is supposed to help slow the progression of the disease. I am seriously not looking forward to this. I have researched the treatment until I’ve beaten the ever loving crap out of that dead horse. I know it’s not supposed to hurt. I know the side effects are usually minimal. I know this is what I need to do…but. But I just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reeeeeaaaalllly </i>don’t want to do this. I hate the idea of doing this every single day for the rest of my life. I hate the uncertainty that this may not work. I hate admitting this disease into our lives. I think ultimately that’s why we’ve held back on the treatments thus far is because right now it feels like a resignation that yes, this is really real. Dangit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, here we are. I should get a call from the drug company this week to schedule a time for the nurse to come show me and Cory how to administer the treatments. I can’t wait to just get it over with. As many reasons I can give why I don’t want to do this, I have a million reasons why I need to. I am terrified of what this disease can do to me. I don’t want Sweet Pea (our daughter) or Cory to watch me deteriorate. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. And I dang sure don’t want this disease to take me out without a fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <deep breath> </span>I think I’m ready. </span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08862902658442071810noreply@blogger.com2