Cyclical Nature and Other Things...
When I was 13 I became very ill. Not that being very ill was all that much new to me, in fact, I almost died twice in infancy, so it is not like I wasn't on borrowed time anyway, as are we all from the moment we are born, but be that as it may... Among other things, I had migraines so bad that the doctor had never seen anything like them, morphine didn't stop them and I eventually was hospitalized and the doctor told my family that I might not come back out again. My sisters, nine and ten years older than me, liked to tease Mom that I got to do things (pierce my ears, date, wear makeup) earlier than they because (whining) "she almost died", and it has become the family joke, although when I was a kid it wasn't so funny, really. The doctor couldn't explain why or how or any of the other important answers, so when I did wake up from the coma, I went on my happy (?) way through adolescence, a medical mystery. When I was in my twenties I became ill again, and again the doctors were clueless, as doctors always seem to be in my case. My mother and I planned my funeral because we seriously did not expect the relapse to end happily. After a lot of tests and pain and just plain crap, they decided I had Pseudotumor Cerebri as a result of taking a drug that I was prescribed. A drug, I might add, that when I took as a kid did nothing out of the ordinary to me, and in fact was a lifesaver, in some ways. But in my twenties I reacted badly and ended up having an MRI and lumbar puncture to relieve the pressure, and some of the symptoms of the problem were losing a big fat lot of memory and having migraines that I wouldn't wish on an enemy. I was then diagnosed with Hidradenitis Suppurativa which is also not a whole lot of fucking fun. It is kept in check by taking hormone replacement therapy. I have been on birth control pills since I was 13 (when the cystic acne was so bad that I felt like a fucking escapee from a leper colony). It is the only way to keep things working correctly, and for a while the only way to keep the migraines from killing me, indeed literally. (and no, migraines are not fatal, it was the mystery coma that was difficult for the doctors to understand and they thought I was dying, go figure)
Now I just got back from the doctor today. A new and fun doctor that I have never seen before. This doctor tells me that the dizzy spells I have been having, along with some other things (anxiety, panic attacks) are genetically linked to migraines and that Pseudotumor Cerebri is not something that just stops and I should have been seeing a doctor for the last several years to check it. What? It was brought on by the drug and I haven't taken it since, or any Vitamin A derivative, as that is what triggers PC. No, she says, it is aggravated by those substances, but PC is there, and if you have the genetics for it, you have it. Wee, fun. She also pointed out that my history of panic attacks and anxiety disorders and depression is more than likely linked to the migraines, and that the fact that I haven't had pain does not mean that I haven't had migraines, in fact, the dizzy episodes (like the one that kept me home from work earlier this Summer and made me want to cut my head off with a rusty spoon) are, in fact, migraines. A new and interesting form of migraine for yours truly, wee fun. NOT.
I have been forbidden to work graveyard shifts. Right, and pay my fucking rent how? And now they want to schedule an MRI. I am so very fucking excited about that. (actually, I fell asleep during the one I had years ago, it isn't the MRI itself that bothers me, it is the money I will have to fucking fork over, since you have to know that the insurance company is going to have a whole litter of kittens here soon.)
And add to that the root canal I am (fucking finally) getting on Friday. At least my mouth will hurt less, sort of.
So my health cycles around again, and it seems to like to fuck up about every ten years, so lets get this the hell over with so I can have my life back. Thanks, Universe. yabunchafucks
And before you ask, thanks, but no, nothing you can do, I appreciate the thought. Unless you want to hand over the winning lottery numbers so I don't have to pay bills for the next six or eight months. (ok, that was a joke, honest, it is ok to laugh)
Now I just got back from the doctor today. A new and fun doctor that I have never seen before. This doctor tells me that the dizzy spells I have been having, along with some other things (anxiety, panic attacks) are genetically linked to migraines and that Pseudotumor Cerebri is not something that just stops and I should have been seeing a doctor for the last several years to check it. What? It was brought on by the drug and I haven't taken it since, or any Vitamin A derivative, as that is what triggers PC. No, she says, it is aggravated by those substances, but PC is there, and if you have the genetics for it, you have it. Wee, fun. She also pointed out that my history of panic attacks and anxiety disorders and depression is more than likely linked to the migraines, and that the fact that I haven't had pain does not mean that I haven't had migraines, in fact, the dizzy episodes (like the one that kept me home from work earlier this Summer and made me want to cut my head off with a rusty spoon) are, in fact, migraines. A new and interesting form of migraine for yours truly, wee fun. NOT.
I have been forbidden to work graveyard shifts. Right, and pay my fucking rent how? And now they want to schedule an MRI. I am so very fucking excited about that. (actually, I fell asleep during the one I had years ago, it isn't the MRI itself that bothers me, it is the money I will have to fucking fork over, since you have to know that the insurance company is going to have a whole litter of kittens here soon.)
And add to that the root canal I am (fucking finally) getting on Friday. At least my mouth will hurt less, sort of.
So my health cycles around again, and it seems to like to fuck up about every ten years, so lets get this the hell over with so I can have my life back. Thanks, Universe. yabunchafucks
And before you ask, thanks, but no, nothing you can do, I appreciate the thought. Unless you want to hand over the winning lottery numbers so I don't have to pay bills for the next six or eight months. (ok, that was a joke, honest, it is ok to laugh)