Distressed

It started Monday night.  At first it was just a tickle in my throat, nothing new.  I fell asleep with a cough drop under my tongue like I'd done many a time before, believing this would be enough.

When I awoke the next morning, I still had a tickle in my throat, but it was just a tickle.  And I still had work...

As my day went on, the tickle mutated, growing into pain, bad pain, and my cough drops weren't helping.  In fact, it seemed like my cough drops were triggering coughing fits.  There were other symptoms: intermittant nausia and dizziness, feeling weaker than normal.  None of these were good signs.

By the time we were finishing up our tear down, I had to keep myself from crying.  I'd started coughing occasionally, and it hurt, really hurt, whenever I coughed.  I knew, just knew, something was very wrong.

The next morning I went to Patient First.  They tested me for strep and the flu, both negative.  Still, the doctor thought I probably had the flu anyway; he perscribed a flu medication plus some liquid codeine.  I filled the scripts, went home, changed clothes, and went back to work.

Wednesday was to be an easy day, a half day, a simple gig.  But, as I worked, I could feel it.  I couldn't move, couldn't function like I normally would.  It took me much longer to perform simple tasks, and it took so much energy out of me to just get through this simplest of gigs.

That day I continued to drink fluids.  Tea helped to soothe my throat.  I went to sleep at 11pm having taken my first dose of the codiene, the drug giving me a nice dull haze to slip into.

And then I woke up at 2am.  My throat was on fire, worse than it had been before.  I chugged more ginger ale, rolled over, and made myself fall back to sleep.

And then I woke up at 5am.  My throat felt even worse.  I made myself a hot toddy, went downstairs, and watched random television hoping my throat would feel better.  It didn't.

I tried to stay strong.  I kept hoping my pain would ease.  But there came a point when I was ready to ball.  I tried to speak to a roommate around 8am, and each word was a new level of pain.

I took two Tylenol, another dose of the codiene, curled up on the cough, my body in a tight ball, and cried myself to a restless sleep that lasted about an hour.

And then came the weezing.  It felt like something was obstructing my airway, like mucus was half covering my throat.  Every breath was a labor.  I gave it sometime, thinking it would go away.  With each breath, I grew more and more scared.

Finally, I couldn't deny it anymore.  I picked up my phone and typed out a note.  I walked up to the kitchen, where one of my roommates was fixing something.  I showed her my phone.

I'm having difficulty breathing; I think I need to go to the hospital.

She didn't need my note to realize I was not good.  You could hear every breath enter and exit my body.  We rushed to get shoes on my, grab my wallet, and bundle up against the frigid cold.

By the time we had gotten to the hospital, I had hacking coughed enough that whatever was hampering my breathing had been dislodged, but I had given up on talking; it just hurt too much.  I wrote out all my answers to the intake secretary. 

We waited for about an hour before they took me to the back.  As the nurse spoke, I just kept writing.

Before she even asked me any questions, I pointed to notes I'd already written:
Symptoms - painfully sore throat, chills, intermittant nausea and dizziness, weak.
It hurts to swallow, cough, or talk.
My pain is at an 8, a 9/10 when I cough.  Yesterday it was a 7.

They put in an IV.  They took blood for tests.  They gave me pain meds and fluids for dehydration.

About an hour later, with the tests run, and nothing coming up again, they had a diagnosis: throat infection.  They perscribed an antibiotic, more codiene in case I needed it, and gave me a doctor's note.

I'm still to take the meds Patient First perscribed, holding onto the hospital's codiene in case I run out.

It is so very hard for me to admit when I'm hurting, to admit when I'm in real pain.  It's incredibly difficult for me to take myself to the hospital.  But the fear...  That was the hardest part of all.

When you don't know what is wrong with your body, when all the things you try that normally work no longer make you better, when you don't understand what is wrong but you know something is wrong...  The fear was the worst part.

But I'm okay now.  The pain meds took me down to a 4 before I left the hospital.  I've been hovering there or slightly below ever since, making sure to take the Tylenol and codiene regularly.

Because when I don't, when the time comes up for me to take my next dosage, and I can feel the pain grow just a little.  When it feels like a cheese grater is against my throat ready to slough off its fill, the fear comes back and I wonder if my breaths will be my last.

For being the daughter of a doctor and a medical secretary, I kind of suck at this whole health thing.

Chemically Balanced

Recently I began taking the pill again. I was on it before summer camp, but stopped taking it when I returned. I worried my libido would crash, and, having just freed the slut inside me, I wanted none of that. But another event is approaching, and the idea of loosing a sexually dynamic weekend to Aunt Flow just would not do.

So I'm into my third week on the medication, and, to be perfectly honest, my initial concerns were partially correct. For the first two weeks, I hated who I was on the pill. Moody, depressed, irritable, sad, bitchy. All of the possible negative attributes I've ever had bubbled up. Worst of all, my libido dropped to nothing. Not even Katie Morgan could stir me.

I spoke about my misfortune to a friend, who wisely suggested, "Just give it time. Your body needs to adjust again." So I waited. And miracle of all miracles, life no longer sucks sweaty furry balls. My libido is back up. My mood has lifted. I feel like me again, mostly.

My sex drive is up, but not nearly as high as before. I'm content, but not as bubbly as I was. It is my sincere hope, next month, I will be back to who I was/am. Otherwise, the pill will be reserved only for pre-event assurance. Because if I can't be horny, if I can't giggle at the most random things, I'd rather just live with a little more risk.

Making A Real Effort

About a week and a half ago, I joined the local YMCA. First of all, IT'S HUGE! It's like the size of a middle school. Seriously, it's big.

[Aside: Oh my gosh, we are disgusting. And by we, I mean my SO & I. Seriously, I kiss him before bed each night. I do silly girlly, I-would-hate-myself-if-I-saw-myself chic talk, both at home and over the phone. We are gross, though thankfully not when anyone is around. Sorry bout this; my SO called to ask me to meet him somewhere other than work later on today. Now, back to the post. /Aside]

I found the Y on a Wednesday, stopped by on Thursday, and signed up on Friday. We were lucky enough to sneak in while they were waving the $100 joining fee. Instead, we just spend $75/mo for unlimited access during business hours, as well as a host of free classes.

Speaking of free classes, my ass is making a good faith effort to get to the gym. There is a 5:45a Studio Cycling (Spin) class MWF. I was able to make it last Monday and this Monday, but both Wednesday & Friday last week the SO needed to be at work at 6a and 7a respectively, making it a no go for classes those days.

Lessons I have learned thus far from my YMCA experience:

1- Waking up at 5a isn't so bad, as long as you go to bed by 10:30p.

2- Bike shorts are a gift from God, well worth the $85 I spent on two pair.

3- Anyone, and I mean anyone, can handle a Spin class. My first day was hard, but my instructor insists on going at your own pace. The ages ranged from me (the youngest) up to a woman who, most likely, gets a Social Security check each month. And all of us did fine.

4- Resistance is beautiful torture. I did not anticipate how hard the class could be, if you push yourself, nor did I know how good I would feel each time I left. Yes, my legs burned and my bum wasn't roses and sunshine, but I felt good. Really good, in fact, which is why I want to stick with it.

5- Weight training is in order. Spin is awesome, but there is nothing like strengthening your muscles and joints. My plan is to do Spin Mondays and Fridays, leaving Wednesdays for free weight fun.

I have a plan. Now I just have to stick with it. Who knows? I may end up in such good shape next year, I will not laugh when a work colleague asks me if I want to train for a triathlon (which is what happened on Saturday, including the copious amounts of giggling.)

Obama Names New Surgeon General

President Obama named Regina Benjamin, a female African American family practitioner from Alabama, as our nation's new surgeon general.
Link to full USAToday article here.

HPV

I've decided to go ahead and write about something that has been on my mind, and stressing my life, for the past few months.

I have HPV. I don't know who gave it to me. I just know I have it.

It was found after a series of pap smears, having come up abnormal, forced me into the uncomfortable situation of a colposcopy, which ultimately confirmed the diagnosis.

Needless to say, for a while, I was scared and angry and sad. When I got the phone call from my NP, telling me I needed to come in for the procedure, I was not expecting it. I thought I was fine: no symptoms, no problems, in a loving managomous relationship. But HPV creeped up on me.

I remember crying in my car, on the phone with my best friend, my SO beside me. The colposcopy came back. The cells are too abnormal. They needed to be removed. I remember thinking, "Why is this happening?"

I felt powerless. I felt like I had done something wrong. I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to break something. It didn't seem fair. I'd received the vaccine. But, I was probably infected already.

I just recently finished recovering from my surgery. My abnormal cells were removed from my cervix in a painless procedure. My cervix is healed. Now I have to receive a pap smear every six months for three years. If all goes well, that will be it.

I may lead a perfectly normal life, not having to worry much about HPV. With yearly checkups, it is safe to say any abnormal cells, should they arise again, will be detected, removed, and I will be fine. And since I received the vaccine, I am still guarded from other strains of the virus.

Going through this, and now trying to not think about it, is just another situation I never expected to face. My cousin died of cancer. My aunt (and substitute grandmother) died of cancer. That scares me.

But I don't have cancer. And I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have to keep positive. I can't let myself fret over something that hasn't happened yet, or may never happen. I have to be happy with my today, and let the rest sort itself out tomorrow.

"After all, tomorrow is another day." - Scarlet O'Hara (Gone With The Wind, one of the best movies EVER!)