The Furies

Abused, disappointed,

Raging, I come--oh, shall come!---

And drip from my heart

A hurt on your soil, a contagion,

A culture, a canker:

Leafless and childless Revenge.

                                                                               -Aeschylus, from The Eumenides


Today was a rough day.  Well, it really was yesterday, but I was moving too fast to see it.  I started the morning at the endocrinologist, where I received great news. Based on my January lab results and my scan, I was now moving on to appointments every six months! I told him I was feeling a little better as far as thyroid symptoms, but things were still off.  He said my TSH was over-surpressed by my old doctor (to 0.03!!!).  He said there was good news in this. "Yeah?" I perked up and looked at him.

"Now you know what being on cocaine is like..."

I like that he sees the bright side in everything.  Honestly, he told me that pending my blood results, he's excited to see I'm coming along. He ordered more TSH levels to see that I moved appropriately to a level of 1-2.5 (should be to about 2 by now). He also rechecked my parathyroid hormone and my calcium levels. He was trying to figure out what was contributing to the pain in my leg and other bones throughout my body, as well as all of these odd things.

I stopped to get my blood drawn, made small talk with the phlebotomist, and headed back to Tullahoma for another appointment.  By then I was exhausted from the driving, waiting, and talking about important things, but I tried to perk up. This was my therapist, after all, and I knew that it could get ugly if I walked into the room in a bad mood.

I would say the appointment went well. I was still feeling good from being told that my appointments were being stretched out, and I felt that for the first time in a while, I was able to get a handle on things. For anyone that thinks it is a picnic to be home and recovering, I'd like to paint a different picture for you:

There are some days where I have to muster all of my energy just to get the kids to school and remember what they need. It will exhaust me to take a shower, and the bone pain of standing, walking around the house, or heaven-forbid taking a walk outside can be enough to bring me to tears. On the days/weeks when I have all of the energy in the world, I get things done at record speed. I have all of these exciting plans, and I am active in everything. The problem is I can't really feel pain during that time, so I tend to overdo or injure myself, and not even notice until I resume my normal level. It's confusing, but I'll sum it up as saying it can be hellish.  I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

But I was excited that day, because as I left my therapist and headed home, I'd be picking up Carly and babysitting my niece and nephew! They were in town from Washington, and I'd be watching them while my sister-in-law got her hair done. I was admittedly tired at that point, but I knew seeing their smiling faces would make it all go away.

Right before they arrived at the house, I got a phone call. I knew it was from my doctor's office, but I wasn't too surprised. They are awesome, and tend to call me to fill me in as they get lab results.  This time, though, the nurse's voice seemed a little more concerned than usual.

"Hey, Michelle, how are you feeling?"

I told her I was fine, and getting ready to fill the house with tons of little ones.  She wasn't up for small-talk.

"Well, Dr. Kistka wanted me to call you because we got your TSH levels back. Your TSH is STILL under the reference level, which is pretty abnormal. You are taking 112mcg of Synthroid, and your TSH is still at 0.45,  It should have been at 2 by now."

I didn't really know what to tell her. I had seemed to get a crash-course education in thyroids over the past year, but I didn't know anything about the other glands and what they did.  So, I just waited for her to resume talking.

"Dr. Kistka is worried about pituitary dysfunction."

At that point, I did interject, asking her what that even meant. I knew where the pituitary gland was (in the brain), but didn't know what this had to do with a person with thyroid cancer.

"Well, your PTH levels have been abnormally high for months, and your calcium isn't regulating. We don't think this has to do with your surgery, but may have just revved it up a bit. Your pituitary is in charge of all of that, and when something throws it off, it can make your whole body a mess."

Another question from me, "well, what threw it off?" I didn't have a lot of time for small talk; I had company walking through the door in a few moments.

"A tumor."

GREAT.... I hadn't heard that word in a while. I don't think it's a word you get used to hearing.

Now, keep in mind that a tumor on the pituitary gland can be tiny and still wreak havoc. All it takes is a small growth producing hormones and pressing on important things. I suddenly thought of the visual problems, the tremors, the abnormal heartbeats, all of the calcium issues and those side effects. This all might make sense, but it still wasn't what I wanted to hear.

She told me I was lowering my med dose again, and I thought to myself "this was almost the dose I was on when I actually had a thyroid??? What's going on with me?"  I thanked her for her help, and she told me she'd call me when they got the other results back.

Shortly after that call, the company did arrive. They served as a pleasant distraction, and I was able to put everything out of my mind for the evening. When my head hit the pillow last night, I was OUT. No room for thinking about the past or future.

The Furies hit this morning. I got up to take the kids to school, and then drove to run and errand. My mind began thinking about this path over the past few years, and all that has happened. Did the brain injury cause the growth in the brain? Did the endocrinologist miss the parathyroid adenoma? That scan was only 50% successful in finding tumors? The old endocrinologist seemed quite incompetent, so it seemed my natural reaction to be doubtful.  Were the visual problems caused by all of these things? That doctor was audibly gossiping about each patient in the hallway, and he even cast his negative opinion on me.

I didn't want to dwell on the past, and I don't like to be negative. Still, I wanted to round up all these doctors and scream, "WHY COULDN'T YOU HELP ME? WHY HAVE I LIVED THESE PAST FEW YEARS WITH MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS? AND MORE PAIN THAN COMFORT???"

I imagine this to be a bit of serendipity, or divine intervention. I had thought about The Furies, from Greek tragedies. They were females with one thing in mind: revenge. They would find those that had wronged people (criminals in their minds), and drive them to their own suicides through extreme despair.

I would like to interject here that I am NOT advocating suicide or revenge of this sort, only that I had remembered The Furies, after I mentally lined up all of those health professionals that had wronged me.

So I sat at home this evening, lying on my heating pad and hoping to finish a book before tomorrow. It's called "The Body Broken," and it's an absolutely lovely book. For anyone that wants to know what my life is like, or what the life of a friend or family member might be like that lives with chronic disabling pain, then this is the book to read. It's fantastically written, and it's like I am reading into a mirror.

So, I chuckled aloud when I came across the passage on The Furies. She had that "break" too! She had a moment when anger took over, and when she realized just how much comfort and time these people had stolen from her.

This moment was interesting for me (on what I felt today, and also what I read). You see, I never wanted to be vengeful; I always insisted on keeping a positive attitude.  In the wake of a student attack, people marveled at my positive outlook. When I took 37 pills JUST TO EXIST after that attack, I just thanked God that I survived. When I looked back at the crap I endured with my marriage, I said "I am just thankful, I got out, and that I can move on!" And when I got cancer, I was quick to say "thank goodness it's just thyroid cancer!"  Seriously, was my head in the clouds?

The people around me cheered on my bright attitude, but they must have known that it doesn't last forever.  Or maybe I fooled them; I did a pretty good job of fooling myself for a while.

But there's something that happens when it's a struggle to move your body off a heating pad without tears. This same body that ran miles and carried babies and loved yoga. And for a person that people joked would "get more done before 9am than most people did all day!" I was having a problem with taking a shower without losing strength some days.

My physiatrist gave me a thoughtful look when I "almost" cracked one day. I told her how hard this has been, and how I'm tired of not having all of the answers.  She told me it seems I do have a lot of answers, they just aren't cures. Unfortunately some of this won't go away for the rest of my life. The key is learning to manage it.

Yes, that's very insightful, but she needs to follow me home and see how pathetic I can be. I suck it up and give a brave face for most people around me, but inside I am dying to survive some days. I am not trying to throw a pity party, but I guess this is the first day I've really felt that first spark of vengeance, and of the feeling that I've been wronged. I feel like they've stolen time from me, with all of these wrong assessments.

Part of the problem is that doctors have ego issues. I think they all do, when they get into a job of playing a God of sorts. When they don't see the answer quickly, they do this thing where they casually imply that the patient might be overly stressed and her mind is creating things. I wasn't dumb, so I picked up on these comments. Then the next appointment, they wanted to screen me for depression. How many times did this go awry?

I complained of swallowing problems, and people thought I was stressed. I had thyroid cancer instead.

I complained of having foot pain, and continued to wait tables for a few days. They said maybe overworked? After the x-rays, they saw I had broken several bones in the foot.

I went to the hospital with TIA's, and was told all of the things to look for next time. The neurologist questioned me on stress and depression, wanting to blame all of my symptoms on that. Instead, it was a clotting disorder and very abnormally-thick blood causing the TIAs. Go figure...

So I wasn't a fan of hearing that same stuff. I know that after pain and illness for this many years, there's no doubt some emotional help I could receive. I was already getting it, and the therapist was telling me to trust my instincts.

I guess instead of being one of the furies, I have become more of a woman that feels she has to scream to be heard. I don't want to hurt anyone else, or cause them despair.  I just want them to listen, and believe me to be a competent woman with a decent head on her shoulders.  Trust me, I WANT to be out there laughing and playing with my kids.  And on the many days that I do push myself way too far, I don't want to be miserable for days afterward.  I try to keep positive, but I guess these setbacks always make it hard for me to handle.

And when the word "tumor" pops up, that word can bring me to my knees.

Just Breathe

The past week has been incredibly stressful, and I'm not sure why.

Wait, I have an idea why...

You know how there are said to be five stages of dealing with grief or a loss? It's a fluid process, and people move through the stages at different rates, and sometimes in different orders. Well, I think I've been going through sort of a grieving process. It's been four months since I had my broken leg and surgery, and I ended up with a visit to the hospital for blood clotting issues and a mini-stroke, then sat in the neurologist's office while she confirmed my fears of Essential Tremor and/or Parkinson's Disease (by fears I mean that I am smart enough to know what that can do to an active and excited young person).

So, my automatic response to any news like that is to pretend everything is great, and picture the ten thousand things I will do to show the world that I will overcome. If there's one thing you can do to tick me off, it's telling me I can't do something.  Even though people didn't actually SAY I couldn't do things, as a special education teacher, my mind automatically went to all of the things that will happen and how my life will never be the same.

On top of that, my shaking has been pronounced enough to start causing some injuries if I'm not careful. On a completely related note, I am thinking of retiring from mascara...

So, back to the process. After making the list of things I am going to do to show whatever is going on who's boss, I then fall into a funk. Man, I could write a manual on myself by now. I guess I need to give myself credit- a lot of people spend thousands on therapy to figure out what I already have. I have seen myself go through it before, and knew it was coming. I embraced the funk (NEVER thought I'd type that sentence in my life, so there's a first!).

It hit me when I had to resign from my job. Until then, I had been on medical leave, and I could pretend that everything was going to be great. This was just something simple, and I would bounce back in no time. Problem is that I spend 8-10 days a month at a medical facility, I have to put great care into most EVERYTHING that I do, and it's just getting worse. I think that bounceback is going to take a while...

As far as the job is concerned, it wasn't fair to the students for them to keep wondering if I was returning. I got into teaching because of the kids, and I know more than anything that they need consistency. They need it in behavior support, and they need it in teachers and staff. I couldn't lead them on when I honestly didn't know when I would be healthy to return. I also didn't want to return too soon, and risk having a MAJOR setback from stress (heart attack or stroke). I'd sucked up the stress for too long, and I knew it would eventually get to me.  So, I know I'll find something new that might balance everything out, and for right now I am going to focus on getting back to a balance. Find the new me. Some cool new age jargon like that...

So, during this funk, I was sitting in a chair and staring out the window. I had days when I honestly didn't want to move. It wasn't depression- it was just time where I could slow my body down. My body has caused so many symptoms, it's like I am always on high alert to notice things. I needed time to slow my body down so I could really think. It turns out those days were useful. I was able to prioritize some things, and make a plan for moving forward.

Today, I rejoined the yoga world. I had wanted to do it for some time, but I wasn't able to modify a lot of the positions to accommodate my leg. It turns out the knee is a pretty vital piece of the body, and every position change affects it (as I found out right after surgery!). This morning I went to run errands, then returned to stretch out and let my mind wander.

Actually, the video I used focused more on my breathing. I had to laugh at first, because it seems like such a simple task. Don't get me wrong- I love yoga, and I enjoy how relaxed I feel afterward. I have done various routines for many years, but I've never seen a video that spent the first twenty minutes leading me through various breathing exercises. The narrator told me to really feel my breath, and welcome it into every cell in my body.

I believe in traditional medicine, but I also believe a lot of alternative strategies work as well. Together, I think you can make a great treatment plan for a patient. No matter what I was wanting the meds to do, I wasn't focusing on a plan that would help me maintain and build some strength, work on my balance, and promote deep breathing and stress relief.  I think I finally found my missing piece!

After the yoga routine (4o minutes!), I decided to head outside for a walk. I had only walked short jaunts around the neighborhood, so this would be the first time I headed out any longer. I am going to my physiatrist on Friday, and I wanted to be able to give her an idea of what my body could do. I know it seems odd when people think "it's been four months, so why are you still hurting?" Well, the doctor looked at my wound and said the scar isn't even healed all the way, so everything under it is still working. He gave me an injection for all the inflammation in my actual knee, which is keeping healing from happening. Then, there's the broken bone, which does take a while (especially in a weight-bearing bone). He told me he wouldn't clear me for the football field for 9-12 months, and from what he hears, a special education classroom is a similar environment (insert laugh here).

I walked at a moderate pace for about 25 minutes, and took a path outside the neighborhood. I remember getting fairly far down the road and thinking "I sure hope I can walk all the way back!" and "maybe this is why I stay close to home?"  My leg was starting to bug me, and I knew it was going to be an interesting night. I know I have to push myself, but I also have to balance that with not causing more damage. So, I headed home and put it up for a while.

We headed over to my best friend Robin's house, and played with the kids and ate pizza for dinner. I was glad to be able to chat with a good friend, and enjoy some family time. This reminded me of another crucial component of my plan to feel better: I need to schedule more social time. In the past four months, I've had a habit of being a bit of a recluse. All of the medical appts have exhausted me, and that made me not want to get out and actually talk to people. Add to that the fact that I have felt yucky a few of the days, and I am surprised I didn't scream when I saw daylight today. I know I need to get out more, and today starts my plan in that respect.

In these stages that I'm going through, I guess I'd be Acceptance by now. I've made a plan, so I guess that comes after realizing life probably won't go back to the way it used to be.  That's ok; we just have to adjust. 

And breathe.