gloom, despair and agony on me...

Anybody remember (or admit to) watching those old HeeHaw shows back in the 70's? That was a normal Saturday night around our house. I had no idea who Elvis was until the day he died but I knew who Buck Owens was... anyways... they had this one skit they would do where the hillbilly men would sit around sipping from their jugs of moonshine singing this song... "gloom, despair and agony on me... deep dark depression, excessive misery... if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all... gloom, despair and agony on me"... And then they would each take turns sharing their woes... it was sort of funny.

That's what Wednesday is like on this blog. I'm a fairly positive person... partly because I'm an eternal optimist and partly because I have an enormous capacity for burying my head in the sand... but on Wednesday, I bring out the moonshine and sing the blues.

Beginning Monday night I started thinking I had a urinary tract infection going on. I've had enough of them to recognize the symptoms. I also have interstitial cystitis - diagnosed many, many years ago before anyone had ever heard of it. I have a lot of little random things like that - the cyst in my sinus cavity... the granulomas in my lungs... some structural deformity in the walls of my bladder. It's *likely* all related. I've done some research on the granuloma disease and it can manifest itself in different ways like that. It's all relatively minor stuff that isn't a big deal, definitely isn't fatal and mostly just means that I'm susceptible to infections in those areas more than the average girl.

At any rate... I was uncomfortable yesterday morning but I thought... I'll tough it out... antibiotics always screw up my weight loss and I'm trying so durn hard to bust through this six week long plateau that THE LAST thing I want is to go back on antibiotics for ANYTHING. However... as I was driving to work and considering the situation... and feeling increasing discomfort... and remembering my medical history and the kidney infection in 2008 that landed me in the ER... and the kidney infection accompanied with (small) stones that plagued me in 2009... I decided that the best course of action was to be proactive. I made a doctors appointment and went on in.

If this is too much info for you... feel free to skip... I'll keep it simple... yep. Infection. Looks like more of those little stones are working their way through. All of this is causing a flare of the interstitial cystitis which is crazy painful. I got an antibiotic... the numbing meds for the urinary tract... and some strong pain meds. All 3 make me crazy nauseous but you have to weigh out the crazy painful vs. the crazy nausea. AND... knowing that the worst is probably still yet to come... I have to tough it out and take my dizzy/nauseous self into the office and make the best I can out of it because it is likely to get worse before it gets better.

Just like with the bronchitis in December... I'm highly aggravated and disappointed with my body. I feel like... I'm giving myself the best that I possibly can as far as nutrition is concerned and this old bag of bones is still not giving me the best results. I'm discouraged by the unexpected expense in a pay period where we were already going to be struggling. I'm frustrated by the time away from work and the threat of more time away. I'm embarassed that I'm once again sick... because people assume that I have somehow done something to cause myself to be sick or to suffer from infection and that I'm weak. I'm not.

AND... in the middle of that pity party I find out that Regis is retiring... what is this world coming to? It's the end of the world as we know it.

Sweet Organic Rose who is the caretaker of Loganberry Heritage Farm extended the invitation to bring me to the farm for a week to recover... with herbal remedies and wholesome food... and that is soooo tempting. How much would I love to just tuck myself into the care of someone so wise in the ways of natural healing? But of course... there are the kid, the cats and the job to think of... and despite my attempts to completely avoid pharmaceuticals... here I am, back in the grip of pills again... it definitely makes me want to run away and stick my head in the sand and pretend that if I just keep pushing through and eating right it will all go away.

The other frustrating thing was having to manage my healthcare. Meeting with my doctor yesterday it felt like she had never even glanced at my chart. I had to recount the entire medical history for her. One thing I expect, especially in a small town, is for my doctor to at least familiarize herself with my history. She said, "have you ever had this problem before?" Really? REALLY? DO you not remember doing an ultrasound on me in this very exam room barely a year ago? Do you not remember stressing me out over the fact that there is ALWAYS blood in my urine and insisting that I see a urologist even though I could ill afford it? Do you not remember insisting that the urologist do a cystoscopy on me ASAP? Do you not remember shaking your head... studying for an antibiotic that might work after several others failed? Am I expecting too much from a small town doctor? I left with mixed feelings... I hate to overdramatize and demand extreme measures at the first sign of anything but I hate to repeat the same steps that have always failed in the past... I get an infection... I get a mild antibiotic... the infection doesn't clear up... it gets worse... I get much sicker...

And I'm still coughing stuff up from the bronchitis in December. I meant to mention that but was so frustrated by the fact that she acted like she had never seen me before... that I completely forgot. Which made me even more upset because you can never actually get a return call. I think I need to find a new doctor.

Anyways... now that I've gotten myself all stirred up. The good news is that Austin woke himself up again this morning and has been getting himself ready without any input from me. That's always a good thing.

OH... and the other frustrating thing about being a single sick person is that there is no one to take care of you. I needed a Shirley MacLaine to my Debra Winger in Terms of Endearment, rushing to the pharmacy and demanding that they get the pain meds ready as soon as possible. Instead... I had to wait over an hour... and when you're in pain... an hour is a very long time. I sat in my car and read a book... but it would have been so nice to just go home and tuck myself in for the night and let someone run pick up those meds for me. Instead... I had a house full of teenagers... and once they left (and Austin went with them) I had a stream of people banging on my door looking for them (ok, only two but when you're whacked out on pain pills and nauseated and dizzy and trying to sleep, two is too many)... and my neighbor decided to blast music so loud that it was rattling the pictures on my walls.

Ok. I'm done now. I'm mad. I'm frustrated. And my weight is up. Time to glam and head to work.