December 25, 2007

• Christmas and other stuff

  The comment from warweasel on my last entry expressed some of the same amazement I felt at just how sick I was.  I had never before been so bad off that I had to choose between breathing and controlling my bladder and bowels.  I had never before heard nor read of such a thing, either.  Sure, I’ve heard of people losing control of their sphincters, but not of having such a forced choice between breathing and keeping other bodily functions together.

  Something similar came up when I was returning home from the hospital.  I’d had a stressful time at the pharmacy, with Greyfox’s stunned  reaction to the cost of my meds and the compressor that powers the nebulizer (After he’d reluctantly made the decision to pay for it [$300+], he turned to me and said, “Merry Christmas, Sweetie”.  Thus I managed to extort from him a Christmas present.  Otherwise, I’d not have had one at all.  I responded with thanks, saying it was the best gift I’d ever gotten, on which the clerk looked from him to me, rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, your life.”), and just the physical demands of being there were extreme, even with the little motorized cart the store provided.  When I got out of the car at home, I had both hands full of bags and stuff.  A few steps up the driveway, I had to stop for breath.  Before I could catch my breath and continue to the house, I had to release my grip on what I held in my hands.  I still had my purse strap over my shoulder and shopping bags hung from both wrists, but had to leave a few other items alongside the path for Doug to retrieve. 

  I don’t think that is necessarily directly related to the pneumonia, asthma, COPD, etc.  It seems more likely to me that it’s part of the M.E. syndrome.  It is hard to tell which of my current symptoms are from the acute lung disease, which are side-effects of or adverse reactions to the medications, and which are the effects of my chronic illness.  Maybe sorting such things out isn’t absolutely necessary, but it could help to keep me from being blindsided by some new acute illness or a drug reaction.

  I can’t tell if my (acute) condition is improving.  I have enough of the inhaled steroids for two more days, then we shall see if the inflammation flares up, or if it is under control.  The chronic stuff, consisting of fatigue, sleep disturbances, weakness, vertigo… just the usual “fibro” bullshit, has followed the usual pattern:  worsened by activity, improved by prolonged rest.  One way or another, I must get better and get back to work on my memoirs because I owe benevolentMitch a copy of the book.  His reminding me of that was instrumental in my decision to keep on breathing, at whatever cost.  That Mitch is a lifesaver.

  

  • 11:27 pm
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