Physical Health: II

Let me begin by saying that my current Family Doctor is the second awesomest Doctor that I have ever had the pleasure of being the patient of. He treats me like a person, not a number, and asks me questions and gives me options and detailed explanations. He even takes my input and researches it to get a better idea of what information I've been looking at. Two thumb's WAY up! For the sake of clarity, let's call him Dr. R.

So Dr. R. listened to my history and my hesitant request for a painkiller stronger than over the counter, with a specific request to start with what I called 'baby pills', and nodded along as he typed up some notes and reached for his 'scrip pad. He gave me a small prescription for two different things. One a pain killer (tramadol), the other an anti inflammatory (naproxen). He gave a strict regimen of how to take it for the first little while, just to get a handle on the pain. Two weeks later I had a follow up after an x-ray. The results of which, low and behold, showed no evidence of the DDD previously diagnosed by the doctor (see previous entry). Not unheard of, but certainly unusual. An MRI was the next logical step, and so that was booked, and my pain killer regimen varied slightly. Now he wanted me to only take them as needed, but before the nausea set in, and to still supplement with my over the counter choices, just being careful not to mix the naproxen with other anti inflammatories.

At work, I was a new person. My direct supervisor noticed the change immediately with the new medication. She said the change in my face alone was remarkable. Weeks went by, and I was able to cope with the pain by rotating my new pills, supplementing them with a stiff drink once at home.

Now hold up! Yes, I get that the common perception is to never mix alcohol and pills. I am not advocating that anyone or everyone do this. However, the particular combination of my pills and alcohol was conferred with my doctor. He brought to my attention the risks, which are intensifying the affects, including side affect, of the pills and alcohol. Fine. So one drink is like three. I'm no lightweight, I can handle that. And I'm apt to be groggy. Fine, I only drink at home, or when very well supervised. No going out on the town with the guys. Ten Four. And yes, I'm aware of the possibilities of liver damage. What do you think all of these pain killers are doing in that department? If I have a choice between one pill and one shot or four pills or four shots, I'm going to choose the former. Thank you for your concern, now can we move on? Great.

So a few weeks go by, and the MRI results come back. Still no sign of DDD, nor of anything else significant, for that matter. And now we're back at square one...Where do we go from here? We wait. Until the symptoms change or worsen, we've got nothing to go with. Alright. I'm not exactly happy, but I can accept that. The pills are working, and therefore, so am I, so I'm not going crazy quite yet.

Couple of months down the road and the 'baby painkillers' aren't working as well. I'm back in the same boat of missing work due to the pain. Add to that, the beginnings of neurological symptoms such as confusion, short term memory loss, loss of sensation in left side of face, hand, arm and leg. Oh, and blackouts, lets not forget the blackouts. And all of this comes days after I've applied for a promotion. Go figure.

So I haul myself back down to Dr. R's office. He listens to my worsening symptoms with a growing concern. The simple fact that I am so young and experiencing such sudden and aggressive onset of neurological symptoms has him at a loss, but definitely concerned. He gives me a prescription for Lyrica to add to my daily regimen of pills. He explained the drug as a pain modifier. It's supposed to change how my body interprets the pain. I can still feel things like heat and cold and sharp, so I'm not likely to accidentally injure myself, but the radiating pain in my back is dulled to a background murmur.

At this point I am taking four vitamin D, a vitamin B12, a multivitamin, and one Lyrica first thing in the morning. Another Lyica later in the day, and , as needed, up to three half tablets of Tramadol, up to two Naproxen, and up to three robax platinum. How's that for a cocktail?

The Lyica comes in many dose sizes. I am currently on the second lowest possible dose. It's not likely that my body will grow a tolerance for the drug, so we should only need to increase the dose if my pain levels rise, which, is likely, considering the trend. And I'm not a fan of the idea of narcotic pain killers, so I'm more than happy to just let the Lyrica do it's thing, for now. And it has. It's been a Godsend. The Lyrica allowed me to go back to work again, this time for a few more months. I felt energised and ready to take on the world. I've given up the idea of a promotion, but I have volunteered for the closing shift, with a special note from Dr. R that limits my hours to 2 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Being an experienced senior employee, this left me as essentially the after hours acting management. There was always at least one more manager available, and usually two, but I did some of the leg work while they were able to get to paperwork that had piled up on their desks all day. It was the perfect balance for me. I got to do all the fun stuff that my promotion would have involved, without the added headache.

But eventually, even the Lyrica wasn't quite enough. It's unclear if some of my symptoms are caused/magnified by the Lyrica, as they were already there before I started taking the pills, but the neurological stuff finally got bad enough that I couldn't be at work. I was having a hard time remembering things, I had to default back to little tricks that I'd used while still in training, and had a stack of scribbled notes surrounding my workstation. I got to the point where I could no longer answer a question from another agent while still working on my own assignment (something that I had had no issues with, prior), and sometimes, to the point of having to put my customer on hold just to gather my thoughts and remember how to use the computer systems and where to find the solutions to the problems they were experiencing. The best way that I can describe it is that if felt like I was slowly going senile.

But I'll leave those types of details for the section on Mental Health.

So I typed up my letter of resignation, and headed to my Boss' office after a chat with my Team Leader. My TL was sympathetic. She knew how much I loved my job and what it meant for me mentally and physically to be quitting. My Boss was at a loss. It just so happened that we were friends outside of work as well, so he knew the struggle I'd been going through. He joked around, telling me that he could only accept it if it were written in three languages. I smiled and warned him that at least one of them would be Klingon. When I finally left his office, I was nearly in tears. Giving four weeks notice for a job that I loved, was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

And as it would happen, I didn't even make the four weeks. Two weeks later, the symptoms had gotten so bad that I had to quit on the spot. I spent a week packing and sitting on the couch watching TV and playing video games, before moving to London. I was moving to a bigger home with friends that would be able to play nurse to me during my rough periods. Same rent, and I already had a network of friends there, so all in all, it was a good move.

Spiritual Health: I

Have you ever been hungry to the point where you feel like you're wasting away but nothing seems appetising? Nothing seems like it could possibly fill the void?

I've spent the better part of my adult life feeling something like that.

My parents were never what you would call religious. My Dad ruled the home with an iron fist and filled it with books and learning,  Mom guided us through our emotional ups and downs and taught us the fundamentals of how to live independent lives, and they both taught us to respect the world around us. The closest thing to Christ we had in our home was the birch bark Nativity scene that the neighbours gave us one year shortly after we moved North.

I had an aunt and uncle that were catholic, and they used to take me to church, when I was just wee, and to my uncle's despair, I would sing along with the hymns at the top of my lungs. I don't remember this, but it's one of my favourite stories. Love you, Uncle G. *innocent grin*

Later, I had friends who attended church. A difficult thing to avoid in Small Town, Northern Ontario. I mostly remember the singing. It wasn't until I was in high school that I started attending church on a somewhat regular basis. I spent most weekends at my best friend's house and her family attended church every Sunday. Theirs was a branch of the Good Shepherd Church, as, it happens, was the one other friend with whom I attended church around age 11.

Good Shepherd was a good place for me to get my feet wet with the whole God/Christ thing. Unfortunately, I stopped attending after a particularly poor move on the part of the pastor. He offended a lot of people that day, and I was simply too young to forgive him and give him a second chance. I never went back.

My first boyfriend, later fiancé, was a Jehovah's Witness. Well, his parents were, anyway. He and I used to have some interesting conversations about the Bible. And I'd even have similar conversations with his parents from time to time.

It's funny, but it wasn't until I walked away from a 7 year relationship and hit the bottom of my emotional well that I actively sought the Church. I was working at a small café in Middle of Nowhere, Southern Ontario, and a group of ladies started coming in for early tea before the lunch crowd trickled in. On their third visit, they finally approached me with The Good Word. Turns out that they, too, were JW's...

Now, I should mention, here, that I have a very biased opinion of JW's. In my eyes, the embody everything that is wrong with Christianity. I'm not saying this to start a debate, I just think it's important in order to understand the progress of my Walk. Anyway, back to my story...

Something made me actually listen to what they had to say instead of just politely declining. And the next thing I knew, I was agreeing to a Bible study every morning before the café got busy. At a time when I had just walked away from my life, my home, and was even temporarily estranged from my family, this was exactly what I needed. Between those ladies and their Bible Study, my new boyfriends, and  the wonderful woman for whom I was working, I managed to find my feet again, to reach out and regain my life, find new friends and a new support system, and even find the patience to wait out the storm until I could go back to the arms and lives of my family.