A few years ago, when I was in graduate school, I woke up in the morning and went to brush my teeth. As I turned the cold water handle it shot off at about 70 mph, missing my eye by an inch, hit the ceiling and thudded to the floor. An "Old Faithful"-worthy geyser streamed steadily into the air, rapidly flooding my bathroom, pouring into the hallway and kitchen. Somehow I summoned some common sense and figured out how to turn the water off before my entire apartment flooded, but it was nonetheless an ominous start to my day. After I cleaned up the mess and shook off the fact that I nearly just lost an eye, I went to the kitchen where I proceeded to attempt to "unlock" my refrigerator, not once, but twice, with my automatic car key. That should have been another warning that I wasn't fit to leave the safety of my home, but alas, I did. Over the course of that day I fail a huge exam, my phone died, my car was towed, I had to walk two miles deep into the New Orleans projects in order to spend my last $200 to get my car out of the impound. Some days we should listen to the warnings being subtly conveyed, put our pajamas back on, call in sick, and get back into the safety of our beds.
Today was that day.
It all began with what I am now convinced is God's form of communication with me, plumbing. We woke up to no hot water, but I didn't think much of it since I showered last night. I wished Julian luck on his ice-cold shower and headed off to work. Ten minutes later I was in a car accident on an overpass of I-10. Let me preface this by saying, I have been convinced for weeks that, having lived in the madness of New Orleans for four years without having been in a wreck, my time was coming. People just don't pay attention here, and even if they did, there isn't a good defensive driver for 60 miles. So as I puttered along in stop-n-go traffic, the car in front of me went from 30-0 in seconds flat. Luckily, I was far enough behind that I managed to stop without hitting them, but the woman behind me was not. As she plowed into the back of me, I plowed into the car in front of me, and experienced my head slamming so hard on my head rest I went dumb for a minute. As I pulled over, the car in front of me sped off! Your loss, I thought. They must have not been insured or thought it was their fault. Amazingly, my car survived with just scratches (officially OBSESSED with my Prius); I got her info and went on my way. I spent the rest of my day dealing with the world's most hormonal boss (ex. she uses the f-word in meetings...a lot), defending my work ethic because she is trying to deflect the fact that she has no idea what she's doing, and trying to explain to her that outliers is a real word. All the while I'm trying to decide if how much pain my head/neck/back are in since the accident is normal.
As I finally headed home I went over and over in my head all the things that sucked about today and got angrier as I thought about having to take a cold shower tonight, etc. etc., and it hit me what a brat I was being. I mean, how about NEVER having hot water? I started to think about all the things that made today a good day, like the fact that I live with the most wonderful man who brought home a heating pad for me with dinner. I have a comfortable bed to sleep this shitty day off in. My car and I survived a car wreck that could have been awful. Today really wasn't that bad. Still, the next time I wake up to a plumbing problem I'm getting back in bed and calling it a day.
Tomorrow I am going to pick up Ceci from Florida, and I want to make sure that I don't have any lingering negativity to send off bad vibes. I need to be as positive and as optimistic as I can to successfully get through the next two weeks and make the most of our little time with her. On that note, I am going to turn on my beloved Modern Family, and lay back on a heating pad!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Happy 2012! (Hope the Apocalypse isn't true...)
Well, it's been quite some time since I've blogged. Basically, life has been pretty busy, but here I find myself at work, sitting in front of the world's most useless PC, having waited over two hours for IT to show up. I am tempted to ask the secretary if they've called back, but she and her cronies are squawking about God knows what, and I've learned never to interrupt their hour long chats with anything as silly as work. Ah, the joys of working for the state!
So, I guess now is as good a time as any to catch up on my blogging...from my iPhone, one letter at a time...
Well, it seems that 2012 has brought the return of my IC symptoms, full force. I laid awake last night with that all too familiar pain of a pissy bladder that just couldn't be bothered with emptying. It wasn't until about 11 that I realized I'd let my medicine run out of my system. This new prescription seems to take longer than the samples from my doctor to kick in. In fact, it didn't take effect until about 3 a.m. So, resolution #1 of 2012 is to not let the meds in my system run out! Even as I write this, I realize I left them on my nightstand. Surprise, surprise, I can't keep resolutions very well!
In other news, yesterday I started studying for the dreaded MCAT. I organized my little desk and added some candles and pictures of J and his daughter Ceci to make it homier, since I will be there about 40 hours a week from now until May. I hung up a dry erase board for formula practice, and filled out a giant calendar with a crazy strict study schedule. It will be interesting to see how I juggle work, studying, and taking care of Ceci this month. We get her for a solid two weeks and I could not be more excited, although trepidacious. It will be a little test run for what life will be like when I am (God willing) a full time working mom.
I am flying to Ft. Lauderdale to pick her up, on my own for the first time, and we will have her until we leave for Colombia in late January (will blog on that excitement later!). I will be taking a triple dose of meds on travel day, since I can't leave her alone on the plane if I need to go. In fact, traveling with a 4 year old, I will probably need to hold it for the full 5-6 hours, something that sounds as daunting as a marathon! I haven't been on a plane since my diagnosis, let alone traveled with a little one. Any ICers out there have tips or strategies for surviving this without a diaper?!
Speaking of needing diapers, I am brought back to my preparations for the MCAT. I have been struggling with the decision to apply for accommodations. I am seriously concerned that I won't be able to hold it during the test (6 hours with 3 breaks), especially because stress exacerbates my IC symptoms. The MCAT approves extra time and permission to go to the bathroom during testing for those with IBS, so I assume IC would fall under the same understanding. However, they want to see a history of needing accommodations, which I don't have, considering the newness of my diagnosis. The application process looks about as daunting as applying for parole and I can't decide if it is worth it. Should I just take a mega-dose of meds and soldier through? I just don't know.
This new constant concern of how/when/where I will go to the bathroom when danger strikes is definitely less than awesome, but as the fantastic Tim Gunn says, I will just have to "make it work"! Life is only going to get more complicated, not less, so I will try to appreciate my IC as a tool for learning how to improvise, accommodate and problem solve. Here's to figuring out how to do that in 2012!
So, I guess now is as good a time as any to catch up on my blogging...from my iPhone, one letter at a time...
Well, it seems that 2012 has brought the return of my IC symptoms, full force. I laid awake last night with that all too familiar pain of a pissy bladder that just couldn't be bothered with emptying. It wasn't until about 11 that I realized I'd let my medicine run out of my system. This new prescription seems to take longer than the samples from my doctor to kick in. In fact, it didn't take effect until about 3 a.m. So, resolution #1 of 2012 is to not let the meds in my system run out! Even as I write this, I realize I left them on my nightstand. Surprise, surprise, I can't keep resolutions very well!
In other news, yesterday I started studying for the dreaded MCAT. I organized my little desk and added some candles and pictures of J and his daughter Ceci to make it homier, since I will be there about 40 hours a week from now until May. I hung up a dry erase board for formula practice, and filled out a giant calendar with a crazy strict study schedule. It will be interesting to see how I juggle work, studying, and taking care of Ceci this month. We get her for a solid two weeks and I could not be more excited, although trepidacious. It will be a little test run for what life will be like when I am (God willing) a full time working mom.
I am flying to Ft. Lauderdale to pick her up, on my own for the first time, and we will have her until we leave for Colombia in late January (will blog on that excitement later!). I will be taking a triple dose of meds on travel day, since I can't leave her alone on the plane if I need to go. In fact, traveling with a 4 year old, I will probably need to hold it for the full 5-6 hours, something that sounds as daunting as a marathon! I haven't been on a plane since my diagnosis, let alone traveled with a little one. Any ICers out there have tips or strategies for surviving this without a diaper?!
Speaking of needing diapers, I am brought back to my preparations for the MCAT. I have been struggling with the decision to apply for accommodations. I am seriously concerned that I won't be able to hold it during the test (6 hours with 3 breaks), especially because stress exacerbates my IC symptoms. The MCAT approves extra time and permission to go to the bathroom during testing for those with IBS, so I assume IC would fall under the same understanding. However, they want to see a history of needing accommodations, which I don't have, considering the newness of my diagnosis. The application process looks about as daunting as applying for parole and I can't decide if it is worth it. Should I just take a mega-dose of meds and soldier through? I just don't know.
This new constant concern of how/when/where I will go to the bathroom when danger strikes is definitely less than awesome, but as the fantastic Tim Gunn says, I will just have to "make it work"! Life is only going to get more complicated, not less, so I will try to appreciate my IC as a tool for learning how to improvise, accommodate and problem solve. Here's to figuring out how to do that in 2012!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Just give it a week.
As I lay here in bed, snuggled up in a robe that feel's like a hug from a cumulus cloud, I can't help but think what a difference a week makes. Let me start by saying I came home from a very long workday to a new robe, slippers, and matching eye mask from the world's best boyfriend. It's hard not to get a case of the warm fuzzies from that. I am wrapped in happiness right now, which feels a little hypocritical since I spent the bulk of last week in a funk so deep I thought I might never know joy again.
Last week brought a number of trials and I felt like a miserable failure more and more as each hour passed. I studied my tail off for a series of finals that can only be described as pure hell. Walking out of final after final feeling like I screwed the pooch did a number on my self-esteem and once again I wanted to throw in the towel on the Dr. thing. I felt as though nothing I could do would ever be enough. Then, after finishing exams and deciding that although my work life is unfulfilling, at least I have been given the opportunity to make decent money and not have to worry about finances for awhile. Cut to four hours later, when I am told that budget cuts have reduced my weekly billable hours to 30. More and more kept happening, hour by hour, that made it feel like I was being drop kicked by life, not to mention all this stress was making my IC symptoms go postal.
Despite all my positivity based posts, and attempts at keeping the faith, last week felt like I might never see sunshine again. I was heartbroken in all aspects of my life, so when my mother suggested that I would get through this, and it was just the dark before the dawn, I felt like firing back with negativity, but I was simply too drained. So I took her word for it, and tried to keep my despair from swallowing me whole.
I woke up Friday morning to a tear and mascara stained pillow to the realization that all of these issues I'm facing are yet again out of my control. I can't retake exams, or negotiate for more hours with a state agency that is hanging on by a thread, and there are people making choices that I can't change. Ugh, here it is again. I can't change anything, I can only change how it affects me. Seriously, this blog is becoming less about IC and more about learning how to change my attitude everyday. Sorry y'all.
However, I learned a new lesson about controlling my reactions this time. Normally, I would feel like my plummet into temporary depression was a failure, but, you know, I think I needed it. We can't keep it together all the time. I needed to be a little heartbroken for a little while. I needed to grieve the loss of my expectations for school, work, personal life, because once I did that I was more able to accept new realities. Most amazingly, as soon as I started to let go of my expectations, life threw me a few bones. As unhappy as I was last week, I am equivocally happy this one. It's hard not to be happy in a new robe. What a difference a week makes.
Last week brought a number of trials and I felt like a miserable failure more and more as each hour passed. I studied my tail off for a series of finals that can only be described as pure hell. Walking out of final after final feeling like I screwed the pooch did a number on my self-esteem and once again I wanted to throw in the towel on the Dr. thing. I felt as though nothing I could do would ever be enough. Then, after finishing exams and deciding that although my work life is unfulfilling, at least I have been given the opportunity to make decent money and not have to worry about finances for awhile. Cut to four hours later, when I am told that budget cuts have reduced my weekly billable hours to 30. More and more kept happening, hour by hour, that made it feel like I was being drop kicked by life, not to mention all this stress was making my IC symptoms go postal.
Despite all my positivity based posts, and attempts at keeping the faith, last week felt like I might never see sunshine again. I was heartbroken in all aspects of my life, so when my mother suggested that I would get through this, and it was just the dark before the dawn, I felt like firing back with negativity, but I was simply too drained. So I took her word for it, and tried to keep my despair from swallowing me whole.
I woke up Friday morning to a tear and mascara stained pillow to the realization that all of these issues I'm facing are yet again out of my control. I can't retake exams, or negotiate for more hours with a state agency that is hanging on by a thread, and there are people making choices that I can't change. Ugh, here it is again. I can't change anything, I can only change how it affects me. Seriously, this blog is becoming less about IC and more about learning how to change my attitude everyday. Sorry y'all.
However, I learned a new lesson about controlling my reactions this time. Normally, I would feel like my plummet into temporary depression was a failure, but, you know, I think I needed it. We can't keep it together all the time. I needed to be a little heartbroken for a little while. I needed to grieve the loss of my expectations for school, work, personal life, because once I did that I was more able to accept new realities. Most amazingly, as soon as I started to let go of my expectations, life threw me a few bones. As unhappy as I was last week, I am equivocally happy this one. It's hard not to be happy in a new robe. What a difference a week makes.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Pinterest and Pissypower
I've noticed lately that I have ceased to have independent thoughts of my own; I just see photos and phrases that I like on Pinterest and re-post them. Anyone else having this problem? Anyone else waiting an eternity for the coveted Pinterest "invitation"? I think they should start kicking off some of the super zealous country fried moms on there and start giving out passwords to simple souls like myself who just want to steal ideas on how to turn paper mache water balloons into candle holders.
Speaking of stealing things from Pinterest, I came across this quote today and I really liked it. Granted, I could do without the shabby not-so-chic butterfly background and the interesting attempt at typography, but the message is the same no matter how you try to dress it up. "At any given moment you have the power to say this is not how the story is going to end." Now, I'm not saying we should flog every dead horse into the ground, but I like the idea that I have the power to say "when", or to have a say in how a story is going to play out.
As most of you have probably gathered from my previous posts, I have been traveling down the road toward medical school for over two years now. This road trip has about two more years on it before I reach my destination, and there have been a lot of times I've wanted to take detours or turn around or just stop where I am and set up shop. If I had realized my own capacity or had a little more faith in my ability to decide my future, I probably would already be a medical student, having followed through in college. Life is a series of hurdles however, and most of the time struggling is more character-building than just achieving your goals flat out (at least that's what I'm going to tell myself when I see classmates of mine already graduating medical school). In college I gave up and thought, "well this just isn't who I'm supposed to be" and I told myself that having the maturity to let it go was the real success. In some situations it is, but I was selling myself so short I think I almost missed out on my spot in the world. The amazing thing is, years later it hit me that even though I had shut that door, a window was open and I had to make the choice whether or not to close it. It literally is never too late (unless you're in your 90's, in which case, it's time to let go). It's never over, til YOU say it's over.
I also like this quote because it makes me appreciate the situations in which we have no say in the outcome, just how we deal with it. There are a lot of things out of my control in life and before IC came along I couldn't come to terms with that. Let's be real, I'm still working on fighting my inner control freak, as J will attest. At least I am aware now. Finding out that I would have IC forever made me think about how long forever would be if I let this become my defining characteristic. I can't change the physical effects of IC, but I can control the effect it has on my dignity, my personality and my character. This IC story is going to have new chapters throughout my life but I get to be in charge of if and how it changes me. IC may have power over my body, but I have the power to say how I want this story to go, and no one can control that, but me.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Piss happens.
Well, it's been quite awhile since I have written about IC, the original topic of this blog, so I suppose I should sneak one in every now and then, right? If you are a reader of this blog for reasons other than IC, you may want to skip this one as it is probably TMI.
It's been two months since I underwent hydrodistension, which is a "surgery" used to diagnose IC. When they fill the bladder with water so that it stretches, a normal bladder wall will remain pink and smooth, however an IC bladder looks like it has the measles. Even coming out of anesthesia, and having no idea what the inside of a bladder should look like, I knew as soon as I saw my pictures that something was amiss at the Circle K. Hydrodistension is also performed as often as every six months as a therapeutic tool (if you have one of those insurance companies that cares about you...wonder what that's like!). For reasons unknown, stretching the bladder like a water balloon gives most people with IC a few months of pain relief. So far, the shooting pains in my urethra, which I mistook for passing kidney stones, have not returned. THANK GOD. Alas, some of the stranger symptoms of IC have returned. Each person with IC experiences their own range of symptoms. Mine include urinating as often as six times an hour (seriously, yesterday I went right before getting in the shower, and had to go as soon as I got out again), and always feeling like my bladder is full, but rarely being able to empty it completely. I will be honest in saying I'm not in pain as much as discomfort. It's like having an itch I can't scratch or a joint I can't pop. Some days I forget I have IC and others I am very aware.
There is something new going on however, that I am apprehensive about sharing, perhaps because I will have to admit it might be a real problem in my future, or maybe just because it is both embarrassing and personal. I haven't told anyone this, not even J (who knows way too much about my bathroom escapades), but as the blog gods are my witnesses, I said that I would be open and honest about my IC, so here it is.
Yesterday I almost peed my damn pants. Not in the "I can't hold it anymore" sense, but the "what the hell? Did a drop just come out!?" sense. I felt as though whatever muscle keeps you from letting go was about to let go on it's own and I tried to hold it until I made it to the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't able to go. At least five times a day the full bladder sensation sends me sprinting to the bathroom on a fool's errand. This feeling of almost losing control out of nowhere was new though. It was the first time since being diagnosed and coming to terms with IC that I got angry and scared and bitter and pathetic. It was the first time I really hated my body for betraying me. I'm 25 and I swear to God if I start pissing myself....I mean I was the kid who never wet the bed (right, Mom?). I was the one at parties who could hold it and let the girl who looked close to tears go in front of me. Hell, I once held it for a ten hour bus ride in Ghana because the only place to go was on the side of the road and I thought it would be rude to go on some poor family's coffee plants. I am not the girl who pees herself!
It's low moments like these, and I know there are going to be a lot more, that make me wonder if this is Karma. This has to be punishment for something bad I've done, mean things I've said, committing the seven deadly sins, right? Then it dawns on me, "how self-absorbed is that?" Just the thought that there is a cosmic force out there keeping tabs on all my wrong doings, and paying me back by making me piss my pants, is so hilariously self-centered. I'm sure the Karmic forces have their hands full with Kim Jong-il and Charles Taylor and the Kardashians (just kidding.....kind of). The truth of the matter is that piss happens. My bladder didn't stop doing it's job because I've been bad, and it's not going to get better because I'm good. It is what it is, the future will be what it will be, and even though I may not always see the silver lining, I just have to accept it. For now, I'm going to stick the whole "I almost peed my pants like a 5 year old" thing in the denial file and cross that bridge when I get to it. Hopefully in no less than 60 years.
It's been two months since I underwent hydrodistension, which is a "surgery" used to diagnose IC. When they fill the bladder with water so that it stretches, a normal bladder wall will remain pink and smooth, however an IC bladder looks like it has the measles. Even coming out of anesthesia, and having no idea what the inside of a bladder should look like, I knew as soon as I saw my pictures that something was amiss at the Circle K. Hydrodistension is also performed as often as every six months as a therapeutic tool (if you have one of those insurance companies that cares about you...wonder what that's like!). For reasons unknown, stretching the bladder like a water balloon gives most people with IC a few months of pain relief. So far, the shooting pains in my urethra, which I mistook for passing kidney stones, have not returned. THANK GOD. Alas, some of the stranger symptoms of IC have returned. Each person with IC experiences their own range of symptoms. Mine include urinating as often as six times an hour (seriously, yesterday I went right before getting in the shower, and had to go as soon as I got out again), and always feeling like my bladder is full, but rarely being able to empty it completely. I will be honest in saying I'm not in pain as much as discomfort. It's like having an itch I can't scratch or a joint I can't pop. Some days I forget I have IC and others I am very aware.
There is something new going on however, that I am apprehensive about sharing, perhaps because I will have to admit it might be a real problem in my future, or maybe just because it is both embarrassing and personal. I haven't told anyone this, not even J (who knows way too much about my bathroom escapades), but as the blog gods are my witnesses, I said that I would be open and honest about my IC, so here it is.
Yesterday I almost peed my damn pants. Not in the "I can't hold it anymore" sense, but the "what the hell? Did a drop just come out!?" sense. I felt as though whatever muscle keeps you from letting go was about to let go on it's own and I tried to hold it until I made it to the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't able to go. At least five times a day the full bladder sensation sends me sprinting to the bathroom on a fool's errand. This feeling of almost losing control out of nowhere was new though. It was the first time since being diagnosed and coming to terms with IC that I got angry and scared and bitter and pathetic. It was the first time I really hated my body for betraying me. I'm 25 and I swear to God if I start pissing myself....I mean I was the kid who never wet the bed (right, Mom?). I was the one at parties who could hold it and let the girl who looked close to tears go in front of me. Hell, I once held it for a ten hour bus ride in Ghana because the only place to go was on the side of the road and I thought it would be rude to go on some poor family's coffee plants. I am not the girl who pees herself!
It's low moments like these, and I know there are going to be a lot more, that make me wonder if this is Karma. This has to be punishment for something bad I've done, mean things I've said, committing the seven deadly sins, right? Then it dawns on me, "how self-absorbed is that?" Just the thought that there is a cosmic force out there keeping tabs on all my wrong doings, and paying me back by making me piss my pants, is so hilariously self-centered. I'm sure the Karmic forces have their hands full with Kim Jong-il and Charles Taylor and the Kardashians (just kidding.....kind of). The truth of the matter is that piss happens. My bladder didn't stop doing it's job because I've been bad, and it's not going to get better because I'm good. It is what it is, the future will be what it will be, and even though I may not always see the silver lining, I just have to accept it. For now, I'm going to stick the whole "I almost peed my pants like a 5 year old" thing in the denial file and cross that bridge when I get to it. Hopefully in no less than 60 years.
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