The Dizzy Chronicles

The average, healthy individual can jump up from the couch with no problem to answer the phone, the door, or go chasing after someone. The average person can also walk in a (fairly) straight line, stand on one foot, suddenly turn around to look a someone who might have called their name, and walk down the stairs of a house, building, or shuttle bus. Now, try getting a bat, put your forehead on one end and the other on the ground and spin yourself around in circles (you know, you used to do it as a kid) and then try doing all of the aforementioned easily accomplished tasks…not so easy now, is it? That, since February 19, 2010, has been my life…the never-ending spinning, dizziness, and awkward balance of a once beloved childhood game, has now become my everyday existence.

Remember drinking slurpees or pounding down ice cream cones as a child and getting a “frozen headache”? You know, you drink or eat something cold too fast and it gives you the gnarliest headache for about 30 seconds and then you continue on enjoying your treat. Well, imagine having that pain in your head constantly, for hours and sometimes days, with little to no reprieve. It’s enough to drive someone insane!

Now, to the fun part. The stomach flu, at any age is horrible, but it seems to be even more acute when you’re a child. You don’t fully understand everything that’s going on, you just know that your tummy hurts and it leaves you running to the bathroom to expel your tummy’s contents. Well, I don’t have the stomach flu, but I do have a stomach that is in revolt to any and every thing that is put down my pie hole. It could be water, medication, or food, it doesn’t matter…up it comes. Even medication designed to eliminate the nausea and vomiting has stopped working.

In order to describe my present state, you must grab the worst element of each paragraph: dizziness, headaches, and vomiting; and that makes up the Christine that you are currently seeing (or reading about). I do the best that I can to put on a happy face despite how poorly I am feeling, but, if you watch closely enough, you will see through the veneer. My balance is atrocious, leaving me quite wobbly and prone to falling backward, even with the aid of my cane there’s no guarantee that someone might need to holler “timber!” so that people will get out from behind me. Standing on a perfectly flat, nonmoving surface often feels as though it is rocking back and forth or moving like the moving sidewalks at some airports. The headaches can sometimes be a constant for several days with no reprieve to ones that only crop up now and again, but wreak havoc on my brain. If you speak with me when I am having one of my headaches (or loaded on all of my medication), I tend to mumble and slur my words, not to mention I don’t always make a lot of sense. The vomiting really speaks for itself, but today was my first upchuck free day in almost two weeks thanks to my new medication…well, it’s not new medication, just the method of taking it is different, but it’s supposed to be more fast acting this way.

This illness has definitely been one for the medical books. My symptoms have presented strangely, I pass tests one day, but fail the same exact ones the next day, it’s all just been incredibly weird. I sincerely appreciate all of the praying that people have been doing on my behalf, there are not enough words to express my appreciation for you doing that for me. I would love company sometimes…I know people are busy and I live in Tin Buk Tu, but it would be awesome to get a visit every now and again. I promise that I won’t barf on you, I’m a big girl now, and I can make it to the bathroom in time!

Four Point Inspections Completed Certified Papers Included With Purchase

Everyone, well, at least everyone that owns a car or has at least seen a car commercial, knows that every vehicle is put through a rigorous inspection and testing process before it is then mass produced for every driving-challenged person out there on the road to consider buying. We know that there are safety ratings for front, back, and side impact; ratings for the vehicle’s likelihood to rollover; brake inspections; seatbelt standards; air bag safety; and some cars, mostly just the high end, frou-frou cars that us common folk cannot afford, have sensors and/or cameras to aid in parallel parking, backing up, and detecting whether there is a vehicle in our blind spot. I guess the one God gave us for free—it’s called your HEAD and NECK—just aren’t good enough. It might get our Swarovski crystal earrings stuck in our cashmere sweaters, and we just CANNOT have that happen!

At present, I feel like one of those vehicles that are going through all of those scrupulous tests; except I have yet to come out at the end nicely polished with papers of certification that I have passed all of the aforementioned tests and am now ready for purchase. Yes, it’s true, so far, all of my tests have come back in my favor—and in the medical field positive can mean bad and negative can mean good—but I have yet to achieve that one “paper” that says that I am worthy of being bought, that I am a healthy and functional person and can go back to the life that I once was living.

I have turned into that patient that causes my doctor to go home thinking about me, out of all of her other patients, because I am such a conundrum. I have had the equivalent, or near equivalent, of a “four-point” inspection as a car. I have had enough blood drawn to satiate the thirst of every member of the Cullen family—though they are “vegetarian” vampires—for years, enough injections of pain and nausea medication to last a person a lifetime, popped more pills than my 90 year old grandmother; and, now, thanks to my expertise at vomiting, even AFTER taking my anti-nausea medication, they have decided that orally is not the way to go anymore with that medication and have thus decided to give me the medication in another form—to which I will leave up to my readers to figure out how I am now taking it. This is the first time that I have used this “mystery” method and I have to say, I don’t like it one bit!

Sadly, my “inspections” are not yet finished. I am still waiting to have the ENG test, but, in the mean time, I have been referred to whatever department to have an ultrasound done on my heart, just to rule out a VERY rare disease where the chambers of some part of the heart don’t fully close, thus causing symptoms much like the ones that I am experiencing. I am also facing the possibility of having a lumber puncture to see if that sheds any light on to what might be going on with me as well. If everything comes back all right, I have NO idea what their next plan of attack will be.

I spoke with one friend who said, “When I go to the doctor I know what’s wrong with me, I have cancer, and so it’s just a matter of deciding what medication to give me. But it’s worse when you’re at the doctor and you don’t know what’s wrong with you and the DOCTOR doesn’t even know what’s wrong! That’s the most frustrating part!” And, you know, she’s totally right. At least by having a diagnosis and a course of action for treating it, you know what’s going on, but, at this point, we’re grasping at straws trying to come up with an answer. Hopefully this illness will just disappear one morning and I will never experience it again, that’s the optimum choice; or I hope that one of these tests will come up showing the doctor something, anything that will be helpful in treating me. I am in no way HOPING for a bad diagnosis, I just want to have a more concrete diagnosis accompanied with a more concrete treatment plan.

Like I’ve said before, at the end of the day, it all comes down to God and what He has planned, not only for me, but my family, friends, and the doctors that are treating me. I am not the driver of my yet-to-be-four-point-inspected certified vehicle, God is. I am merely a passenger along for the ride and doing the work that He has put me on this earth to do along the way.

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of you faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”—1Peter 1:6-7

Update…This is Where I Am At Right Now

As of right now there isn’t complete agreement by my various doctors on what the source of my illness is. Everyone, except the Neurologist, thinks that there is something going on in my brain, whether it be Atypical Migraines or something else. The Neurologist, on the other hand, thinks that it has something to do with my inner ear. So, now I am waiting to have an ENG (electronystagmogram), which they, obviously, have yet to schedule me for. This test should show conclusively whether the source of my illness is in my ears or not. If I pass that test, I guess that next step would be to go back to the Neurologist and see what he wants to go.

For (at least) the last 10 days I have been unable to keep anything, solid or liquid, down. Even after taking medication that is supposed to help prevent vomiting, I end up vomiting. I called and left a message with my doctor today about the vomiting and her nurse got back to me within 15 minutes—that’s got to be a record in Kaiser history—and said that I need to come in and be seen by the doctor again. So tomorrow at 8:50 I see my primary doctor and we’ll see what she has to say and what she will end up doing.

That’s about all I have to report on today. I’m still dizzy and have the headaches, so I use a cane to walk. It’s rough at times, but I try my best to put on my happy face for everyone.

A Little Something You May or May Not Have Known About Me

I don’t think that it should come as any surprise to anyone, but I like to write. I always have. I think half of it has to do with my love affair with paper and pens, it’s an “addiction” that I picked up from my mother who, likewise, picked it up from her own mother. It takes will power stronger than gravity for me to be able to pass up the school supply isle at any store; but, sadly, I usually give in and end up in said isle looking adoringly at the packs of pens, pencils, and paper as if they were cuddly little puppies in need of a loving and caring home. It’s really rather sad, but, as “addictions” go, I guess it’s not so bad. The same could be said for books—don’t get me within 100 yards of Barnes and Noble, the day will be shot if I end up in there—but that’s a whole other issue.

Since the intensity of my illness, picking up a pen or a pencil and actually WRITING something on paper has become rather difficult. My already kindergarten-like writing has gotten worse because I lack the strength needed to hold the pen properly and write. As an avid writer with ideas bouncing off the walls of my brain, it’s very frustrating for me to not be able get them onto paper. I know what you’re thinking, “Christine, you have a computer, you’re typing your blog on it, do the same with your stories”. I wish that I could do that, trust me, I’ve tried; but I just don’t get the same satisfaction as when I have a pen in my hand—which has completely disfigured my middle finger—and am writing what’s going on in my mind on paper. Doing this blog is a little different, since blogs are viewed on the computer, scattering my words out into the cosmos for whomever to read. Anyone else, on the other hand, rarely sees my stories, they are mine, my way of release, I guess you could say.

One of my favorite authors is a woman by the name of Lurlene McDaniels. Her genre is youth fiction and generally deals with young people with cancer. I have read a significant number of her books, if not nearly every book she has ever written, so, I guess naturally, my writing tends to be in that same field. I wish that I could say that I am improving and getting close to her caliber of expertise, but I would be lying to myself if I actually believed that. I know that I have a lot to learn and probably should take some courses on writing, but, considering my present situation, that just isn’t going to be happening. One story I’ve been working on since I was a sophomore in high school—I was a sophomore in 1995—and have yet to finish it. I get the proverbial writer’s block and put it down and start working on another story that’s in my head until I get writer’s block again, so it’s a vicious cycle of rotating stories.

Recently I started on a completely different type of story. It’s written as if it were the diary/journal of a 20-something young woman of, how should I put this…girth. I call it Diary of a Fat Girl and it is somewhat autobiographical in the sense that the scenarios that happen to the girl in the story are actual things that have occurred in my own life. I think that there is a preconceived notion in the world that all people who are chubby, girthy, horizontally challenged, and every other synonym or pun you can think of for fat, WANT to be that way. Or that we have made ourselves that way because we are lazy people who do nothing but sit on the couch watching T.V and munching on everything in the house. As a woman of Size, I can tell you that, for the majority of us, that is not true. Here is a little excerpt from my story Diary of a Fat Girl:

Dear Diary, October 10, 2008

As Halloween draws ever closer and two, yes, 2, different Halloween parties stare me in the face, I now have a challenge set before me: Find two different Halloween costumes for the two very different events. The slogan, if you will, for this plight is: Will one fit? The criteria for the costume(s) are:
(a) One must be from The Wizard of Oz
(b) The other needs to be something gothic, rock ‘n roll, or punk so that I fit in with the crowd at the party (I’m thinking vampire or gothic doll)
(c) Both must fit
(d) Neither one of them can be a sheet, bag, or random piece of cloth strung together around my body and called “a costume”. It must be the real deal!
Now, if I were, say, a size 2, this wouldn’t be a problem in the least; but if you tack on an extra 2 and make it a double digit (a.k.a: 22), then add another 2, it would then bring the grand total to…drum roll please…24. Yup, I am, roughly, the size of two Marilyn Monroes put together, wider than the average armchair, my hips do not fit through a turn-stile at a theme park. I am, without question, a girth-y woman.

However…

…do not mistake my self-deprecating attitude as that of one who is ashamed, embarrassed, mortified, humiliated, or any other synonym the dictionary holds about her Size. I am, in actuality, comfortable with who I am. I am large-and-in-charge, big, blonde, and beautiful, squish-y, portly and proud!

Now, back to the task at hand…

So, this morning, with purse in hand and costume ideas in mind, I made my way to the local mall, eager to find everything that I could possibly need. A gentleman greeted me at the door and asked if I needed help finding something in particular. “Yes, I am looking for costumes that cater to the girth-y, the large-and-in-charge, in short: I am looking for plus-Sized costumes…of any kind,” I told him. After snickering at my fat-person humor, he politely (and I use that term loosely) informed me that there is no specific section for “my kind” that it’s basically hit and miss on what might “go up to my Size”. He did, however, offer up some (in his mind) friendly suggestions:
(a) Buy all black clothes in one of “your” stores, put on some white make-up, buy some fangs, and call yourself a vampire (Strike one, honey.)
(b) Go to Wal-Mart and buy some sheets, wrap them around yourself, buy some gold sandals, paint some leaves gold and put them around your head and go as a Grecian Goddess (Strike two, doll, no sheet-costumes allowed)
(c) Buy a clown costume. Those always fit plus-Sized people (Strike three, thanks for playing, but you’ve been ejected from the game)

After politely grinding my teeth into some semblance of a grin and listening to the worker’s suggestions, I bid him farewell and set off on my own through the store, determined to find something…anything that would meet all of my criteria and prove that moron at the door wrong about my options. So, without a backward glance at the naysayer, I began perusing the isles of the fine Halloween retail establishment. At first I was getting discouraged because everything I was finding on the first rack was labeled “Standard Adult”; but, after taking a couple of trips around the aforementioned rack (hey, I never claimed that because I’m of an above-average size automatically means my brains are above average as well!), I realized that it was full of capes and gloves, so there was no reason for any further panic…PHEW! With that bullet dodged, I gladly moved on to a more challenging section (one that I determined, prior to my approach, that was, in fact, actual costumes)…gothic-style. My strategy was to go in and find something I liked, see the biggest size it went up to and then, if it surpassed the size 20 mark, I was going to see if there was a way to squeeze my Marilyn Monroe-sized (times two) butt into it! To my utter glee, I found a Victorian Vampire costume that was marked “Adult Plus 20-22”, so I snatched it off the rack as quickly as I could (you never know when another person of Size might come by) and scampered off to another rack to see what possible treasures it might hold.

Fast-forward twenty minutes…

…the fruits of my labor (I walked all over that place, so surely I burned enough calories to fit into that 20-22!) were few, but I gladly marched over to the mirrors—there weren’t any dressing rooms—and began trying on costumes. The first one I tried was the original costume I had found—the only one marked for “my kind” that I liked for the party on the 31st and fit my criteria—and, thanks to the invigorating walk around the store, it fit—a little snug on the hips--(even over my street clothes)! After a few turns in the mirror and a couple of moments trying to figure out why there was a superfluous piece of fabric tucked into a loop smack on top of my butt (turns out it was a mock bustle), I removed the costume and moved on to the next one, a more “vamp” vampire. However, seeing as how that costume was marked “Adult XL (12-14)”, it wasn’t much of a surprise that it didn’t even make it over my head, so that costume, and the two other “Adult XL (12-14)”s headed back to their homes, destined to wait for a skinnier “big” girl to come along and snatch them up. And, to put a little rain on my semi-sunny day, I couldn’t find a suitable costume for the Wizard of Oz themed party, so that meant I would have to resort to Plan B: Find a black dress at one of “my” stores and call myself “The Wicked Witch of the West” (but I would never admit it to the imbecile at the door!). Determined to make it look like I had found an over-abundance of what I needed, I stashed my basket with a vampire wig, fangs, black nail polish and lipstick, white face powder, a long witch’s wig, green and black striped pantyhose (granted, they didn’t actually fit all the way up to my waist and would be turned into knee socks, but no one need know that!), green face make-up and, to cap it all off, a witch’s hat and broom. With my loot in hand, I marched right up to the counter and plunked everything down, eager to prove that I, a woman of Size, was able to find everything that I needed in a store largely catering to the “normal” sized individual. After plunking down nearly $200 (I am convinced retailers punish the large-and-in-charge by making us pay, sometimes, double what the average person has to pay), I took my bags and proudly walked out of that store, giving the blockhead at the front door a somewhat smug smile as I waved to him with my two brimming bags.

Mission semi-accomplished…

Now safely back within the confines of my home, I need to come up with a solution for my Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) costume. Should I break down and just do as that dingbat at the door said: “buy an all black outfit at one of “your stores” and call myself the WWOTW? Or should I be proactive and do a little research before, maybe, venturing out to another costume shop? It’s a difficult decision to make, but I’m going to have to come up with something fast.

I’ll keep you posted!

Ambree
P.S. Please don't steal any of my writing :)

Me actually made as The Wicked With of the West, but from the play "Wicked", so I was really Elphaba

I Went For A Jog This Morning (But I didn’t really mean to)

I’m sure that we’ve all experienced this, its’ just one of the laws of nature, where you are super comfortable in bed, snoozing the night away (hopefully, anyhow) and then you feel it: you have to go to the bathroom. Dang it! You’ve got that sweet spot in bed all formed perfectly for your body, the blankets are perfectly snuggled around your body and now you have to get up in the wee hours of the morning with it feeling like it’s 30 below so that you can go to the bathroom. I HATE it when that happens! Maybe some of you are like me and you try your best to ignore it by turning on your side or on your back, but, eventually, the inevitable happens and you HAVE to get out of bed. Well, that happened to me last night.

That tale in and of itself is not that big of a deal, in fact, that children’s book “Everybody Poops” should have a sister book called “Everybody Tinkles”, but, anyway, I’m straying off topic, so let me get refocused. All right, so I give in to the unavoidable, all of my mid-night potty ignoring tricks exhausted, and get out of bed to use the facilities. However, my brain or my ears (it’s still being discussed amongst my different doctors about which one is causing the problems, so I don’t know) have decided that Christine is going to be COMPLETELY unbalanced for her short trip to the powder room (literally, it’s 10 feet away) and away I go, head-first, barreling my way across the hall to the bathroom. It’s like I was in an Olympic sprinting race and I was leaning forward so that I could win by the proverbial nose! How I managed to make it into the bathroom without killing myself or knocking a noggin-sized hole into the wall is a miracle!

So, I finish with what goes on in the powder room and then proceed to stumble my way back to my bedroom, slightly in more control over my balance but not by much, and get back into bed. Unfortunately this whole mini-marathon run has totally gotten my head going all haywire, so it took a few minutes to get my head around the fact that I was lying still, that neither I, nor the earth were moving and that I could relax and go back to sleep and SLEEP I did!

Want to know what I dreamt about? That I was sleeping on my parents’ old waterbed and that someone was making it slosh around. ::sigh:: I guess there’s just no rest for the dizzy.

Keeping Perspective When You’re Perspective Tends To Be A Little Skewed

When you’re sick—especially if it’s for a long period of time—is hard to keep everything in perspective. I think that natural human tendencies are to think that we have got to be the person suffering the most in the world; when, in actuality, your affliction probably pales in comparison to what other people all over the world are experiencing. Yes, I have been suffering from vertigo and migraines for 9 weeks (not that I’m counting…All right, I am counting, I can’t help it, there’s not much else I can do without getting sick) and have been unable to eat much of anything for the last month, but there is someone out there, maybe even just down the street, that is suffering FAR more than I am. It’s not to say that within my little bubble my illness should be dismissed, but I know that I have it much better than other people in the world.

There are people in this country and countries all over the world that are starving to death, while my cupboards are fully stocked (though I cannot eat any of it right now) and I have access to clean water, a bed of my own, and a house that I call home. But then you think of the different countries around the world, Kenya, Uganda, Malaysia, and others that do not have those luxuries. I also have the means needed to go to the doctor to be treated and given the medicine that I need to hopefully resolve my illness; but in other countries, Rwanda, Cambodia, Thailand, and the like do not. There are people in our very own country who don’t have these same luxuries either!

I, personally, am doing the best that I can to keep this illness of mine in perspective, knowing that I’m not as bad off as someone else out there on this earth. Naturally there are days where you just cannot avoid feeling like the only one in the whole wide world that is suffering beyond description, but with a little bit of self-reflection and a lot of prayer, you will come back to reality.

Please watch the video that I have linked to this blog. It’s about David Cook’s trip to Ethiopia recently and what he learned about life in that country. I strongly encourage people to donate to organizations like World Vision and Compassion International so that you might be able to take part in helping someone’s life.

David Cook in Ethiopia


Compassion International


World Vision


Mercy Ships

I’m In Love…With Porcelain John (It’s a Love-Hate Relationship)

Isn’t it called Murphy’s Law when you hurt yourself then, for the rest of the day, you’ll end up hurting that same spot over and over again? Like, if you bite your cheek in the morning, you’re guaranteed to bite that SAME EXACT spot for the rest of the day, if not week? I think that my current Murphy’s Law is: if I eat or drink something of ANY nutritional value, it is guaranteed to make a re-appearance. It just seems like any time I put some food in my pie-hole, it comes right back out.

Every day and/or evening for the last week Porcelain John and I have had long chats. I do most of the talking and he, like a real man, takes in the information (in this case, my food) and out (or down, actually) his “ear” it goes. He doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about how I’m feeling, he just pushes (rather, flushes) away what it is I have to say with no concern about how I’m feeling. Occasionally he talks back (FYI: don’t bend over TOO far when you’re talking with Porcelain John, he’s like a llama, he spits), which I totally do not appreciate.

We have yet to figure out why my visits with Porcelain John have increased over the last week. The doctor(s) have given me two different nausea/vomiting medications (Zofran and Phenergan), which, to my understanding, are pretty powerful drugs to combat nausea and vomiting (often used for cancer patients, I THINK), but they don’t always seem to work. I do what I can to take things in moderation so that I don’t over medicate myself, but when it comes to yakking with Porcelain John, there’s no avoiding it if it’s a bad bout. My tip for upchucking is: if you know that you are going to eventually dispose of the food that you just ate, chose foods that taste just about the same going out as they did going in, it reduces the nastiness of the whole ordeal.

It’s really a good thing (I guess) that I have no real appetite because Wednesday night my mom made chili for dinner and I really like chili. It smelled good, but past that, I had no real desire to actually partake in it. Even if my stomach happens to be growling, I have no interest in eating anything. When it does happen I’ll eat 2 or 3 Saltines and I’m pretty much good to go for the rest of the day.

At physical therapy the other day I ended up talking with Ralph2 (my portable Porcelain John) because the exercises made me nauseous and my dad said that he thought I handled it very well, because if the roles would have been reversed, it would have been “Clean up in Isle 4!”. I told him that I have become a pro at regurgitation; I’ve been forced into it by whatever this illness is. It’s a crummy thing to become proficient at, but I guess it’s better than not being good at anything at all!

Hello!? Have You Forgotten About Me?!

Is it just me or does it seem as if everyone that you call friend seems to suddenly disappear, fall off the map, leave the face of the earth when you need them the most? When your friend is hurting, whether it is from some kind of emotional distress, illness, tragedy within their family, whatever the case may be, aren’t we supposed to be running TO them and not AWAY from them? Even if we don’t think the situation our friend is going through is all that big of a deal, shouldn’t we take into consideration what THEY are feeling and thinking and put aside our own thoughts so that we can be there for them in their hour of need?

I’m not pointing fingers, complaining, or on the attack, I’m just merely making an observation. I would like to think that I have been there for my friends in their hour of need, but maybe there have been times where I HAVE missed out on the opportunity of being there for them, but it wasn’t done on purpose, and I apologize to anyone I might have hurt by not being there for them. We all make mistakes, have little slip ups in our relationships with others, even those people within our own families.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel forgotten by some people in my life, because I do. I know that there are many faithful ones out there who have shown their concern for me and my health, texting me, e-mailing me, calling, or coming to visit—which is no easy feat considering I live in Outer Mongolia—and I appreciate those people more than words can describe. Trust me, I know that we all lead busy lives, have issues of our own to deal with, and we sometimes forget about other people in our lives who need a little encouragement. I would probably say that I have done that myself, time gets away from you and you forget about things and/or people that are not right in front of you at the moment.

I would like to challenge everyone tonight—well, by the time you get this, it will probably be morning—to call up, text, or e-mail someone that God has put on your heart or someone that you have heard about “through the grapevine” that is hurting and give them a call and let them know that you were thinking about them and want to know how they are doing. Who knows, that one little phone call, text, or e-mail COULD mean the difference between life and death for someone.

"Friends always show their love. What are brothers for if not to share troubles?"- Proverbs 17:17

Continual Adding To The Heap Could Cause Collapse

Remember the days before Hefty Flex bags where you would try to cram and heap as much junk into a single garbage bag to the point of near-breaking and then you would drag that bad boy outside to the trash can/dumpster? Do you remember how many of those times you were successful and how many times were failures? I’m willing to bet that there were more failures than successes, knowing the technology of the olden days (5 whole years ago). But now we have the wondrous technology of Force Flex and that guarantees that you can cram as much junk into it as you want, pointy, sharp, heavy, it doesn’t matter, it’s going to hold!

As of right now, I am feeling like the technology of the olden days. I feel like I am on the verge of collapse at any moment, both physically and emotionally. I still consider myself FAR from depressed, but I just feel completely overwhelmed by everything that’s going on. There still isn’t agreement amongst all of my doctors about what’s wrong with me, none of them can tell me what caused all of this nonsense, and everything they’re giving me and having me do hasn’t necessarily helped. The medication, for the most part, just knocks me out, which is nice, because then I don’t really care what’s wrong with me because I’m in La-La Land; but at the same time, I want to be better. I should be getting a call soon about scheduling a test called an ENG (electronystagmogram), which should show conclusively if this is an inner ear issue or something in the brain, but what happens after that, I have no idea. Then you add on the symptoms themselves, which is a whole other thing crammed into that garbage bag.

With all of this vertigo/dizziness/unbalance, I am quite nauseous and spend a lot of time speaking with Porcelain John. On the one hand, since I now have a permanent bridge in my mouth, I don’t have to remember to take out my false teeth before John and I have a chat, but it’s still no fun. It’s starting to have a lot of wear and tear on my esophagus, so I occasionally lose my voice or I sound like a dude; and, as a girl, that’s always fun. I continue to lose weight, which I needed to do anyway, but this was, by no means, the way I planned on doing that. A few more pounds and I’ll be able to do the indoor skydiving that I wanted to do for my 30th birthday…except now I would probably just upchuck and not really enjoy myself, so I guess the positive from this is that I’m going down in pant sizes! Yay!

And, as if all of the illness in and of itself isn’t bad enough, there have been problems in regards to my disability insurance. I won’t go into great detail because I can’t…I don’t understand it! I think we finally got it all figured out today, but there were many tears shed before we finally got it straightened out. I told the man from State Disability that, normally, I am an intelligent person (or, at least I’d like to think that I am), but these prolonged migraines and vertigo issues have affected my ability to really comprehend everything and process it so that I can give the proper response. He was a nice enough guy and talked me through it, so I hope that it gets taken care of without having to involve me any further.

Maybe there are parts of me, the metaphoric Hefty bag, that have Force Flex elements to it, but yesterday and today were DEFINITELY days where I just felt like I was going to completely cave in. There is only so much a person can take physically, emotionally, and mentally. I know that having God on my side has definitely helped, I would have probably been sent to the loony bin by now otherwise.

Hiccups…C’mon, it’s 4AM!

I don’t know about the rest of you out there, but I enjoy sleeping. It’s a really nice, inexpensive, restful hobby and form of escapism. If I had the choice between a nice invigorating jog or a nap, I think I would chose the nap, that way I eliminate the probability of sweating, which gets my clothes dirty, which means that I then have to do laundry, which could then lead to more sweating, which leads to more laundry. It just really turns into this whole chain of events that aren’t pleasant. But sleeping ::rubs hands together excitedly with a dopey grin on her face:: leads to nothing more than snuggling under the sheets with a stuffed animal or a particularly cuddly pet, whichever happens to suit you, and away you go to wherever your dreams take you—sweat free, I might add—all within the confines of your bedroom. I like that! And then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happens…

HICCUP! HICCUP! HICCUP!

For the last three weeks or so—give a day or two—I have been woken up in the middle of the night by hiccups. We are talking about me being dead to the world asleep and the next thing I know HICCUP. Do you know how irritating that is?!?! We’re not talking about the kind of hiccups where you do it a few times and they go away or you hold your breath once for a couple of seconds and they’re gone; no, I have to get up out of bed and go get a drink of water and then sit up in bed for 10 minutes or longer trying different ways of getting rid of those darned spasms! Sometimes I swear they are so loud that I’m going to end up waking up the whole house!

In the grand scheme of things, I’d much rather deal with having hiccups in the middle of the night than constantly being dizzy, off-kilter, nauseous, or vomiting; but, seriously, if I’m going to have the hiccups, could I at least have them while I’m awake? Is that really too much to ask? They always eventually go away, but they keep me up for long periods of time and that’s not good for what I’m going through.

The Neurologist didn’t seem all that concerned about my having random hiccups in the middle of the night, but, then again, he seems nonplussed about everything concerning me. My primary doctor prescribed me Prilocec to see if that would help, but, as evidenced by my hiccup attack at 4-something this morning, it hasn’t helped. Granted, this doesn’t happen every night, it’s only once or twice a week, but it always seems to happen on nights when I’m getting a really good rest.

I’ve tried every method of betting rid of them that I know of—aside from breathing into a paper bag because me don’t have any—but nothing really seems to work. I hold my breath for a few seconds, but inevitably end up hiccuping WHILE I’m holding my breath. I’ve tried ignoring them and just count sheep, sheering the sheep, petting the sheep, herding them up a pretty green hill, but none of them seem to work really well. In the end, I’m not only annoyed that I have the hiccups, but I’m annoyed at my imaginary sheep for being of no assistance to me at all! Poor imaginary sheep!

Looks Like Fun, Doesn’t It? (It’s the Devil in Disguise)

What IS that thing? Is it a virtual reality booth? A virtual skydiving booth? A video game? It is, in essence, all three of those things, except that it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. That booth right there is a torture device for people with balance disorders, like myself. It is the bane of my existence. It is a torture rack straight out of the movie “Saw”. It is the machine that is supposed to be helping my brain, eyes, and ears communicate with one another properly.

First, you are strapped into a harness, much like the ones that people wear when skydiving, and then you step up into the booth and are attached to the two straps dangling from the booth’s ceiling. Next, you’re feet are strategically placed on metal footplates as you face a small television screen in the wall of the booth in front of you. Once you are placed in the perfect position, that’s when the real “fun” begins.

Now it’s the physical therapist’s turn to have a little bit of masochistic fun (I mean that in a humorous way, of course). On the computer screen to the right of the booth, the therapist begins an exercise where he or she chooses at what percentage the walls move (it ranges from 20% - 200%), the higher the number, the more the wall moves. The goal of the patient strapped into the torture chamber is to keep their little mini-me inside of a box in the center of the T.V screen. I am achieving an 80% success rate, but I am at the lowest setting possible: 20%. To the normal person’s eyes, it doesn’t even look like the wall is moving, but to me, IT’S MOVING.

After that little gem of an exercise it’s on to the footplate. Again, the physical therapist has the option of picking a difficulty level of 20% - 200%; and, again, I am at 20%. Both of these exercises are supposed to last 2 minutes or more, but because I haven been so ill and weak from lack of food, I have lasted, at the longest, 45 seconds.

The next exercise is having the footplate suddenly tilt forward or backward and my goal is to keep that blasted mini-me in the center box. That one I TOTALLY fail because I cannot even keep my balance on a flat surface that isn’t moving! I do slightly better when it tips forward, maybe it’s because of my big butt in the back that’s balancing me out or something, but I tend to handle that better than when it drops from under my heals.

The last exercise in this lovely little booth of wonders is having BOTH the wall and the footplate move at the same time. My therapist warned me that it would be like standing up during a 7.2 earthquake. Well, when that bad boy started shaking, I was gone! My therapist had to hold me to prevent me from falling out of the booth.

I know that none of this sounds the least bit difficult, let alone tiring; but by the time I am finished I am sweating up a storm and so tuckered out that I sometimes wonder if I’ll even make it to the car! Generally, on the days when I have physical therapy, I get home and completely pass out on the couch. I mean, we’re talking, dead-to-the-world, snoring, drooling, the whole nine yards.

Anyway, there’s a picture and a little explanation of what physical therapy is like for me.

I Know I’m Fat, But This Is RIDICULOUS! (Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover)

Anyone who has watched television has seen the commercials for the different kinds of weight loss pills, powders, drinks, and bars that are promoted by the Kardashians, Jillian Michaels, and the like. We’ve also seen the weight loss programs promising a slimmer waist “in just two weeks!” being hocked by Valerie Bertanelli, Jason Alexander, Angie Everheart, and Marie Osmond. Well, I say pooy to them all! Everyone should try the VHNV Diet designed by me! What is this VHNV Diet that I am speaking of? Well, it stands for Vertigo, Headaches, Nausea, and Vomiting, of course! You’ll be too busy being dizzy, in pain, nauseous, and bent over a toilet than thinking about eating anything, so you are guaranteed—or you’ll get a FULL REFUND, no questions asked—to lose at least 20 pounds in less than 2 months! Your diet will consist of: water, Saltines, Jell-O, and tiny sips of a protein drink; then, within an hour’s time, you’ll be in the bathroom singing into the porcelain microphone, thus, ridding yourself of everything you just took in. Trust me, it works!

Though I am joking about it, this has seriously been my life for 2 months. I know that I’m fat, I see myself in the mirror every day, so it’s not like I need to be reminded to lose weight (that’s directed to the doctors of the world), but this is absolutely ridiculous! There have been times when I cannot even keep WATER down, let alone anything of nutritional value. Mostly I eat about 5 Saltines, ¼ of an 11oz. canned protein drink (I flip flop between Pure Protein, Ensure, and now am going to try Boost), and water. That’s it! Sometimes I’ll be able to eat a couple of tablespoons of potatoes, but I don’t even do that often for fear of them resurfacing before they have been masticated enough. Then, within an hour or two, I am in the bathroom evacuating everything from my stomach. Right now I am probably the world’s fattest anorexic, because that is how I am eating right now. I don’t like it, not that I’m a big eater to begin with, but I just cannot keep anything down.

As a response to the lack of nutrition that I am getting my heart rate has been really high (the last time it was checked it was 105), but, thankfully, my blood pressure has been amazing (111/79). I also run out of steam VERY quickly. Today I went to California Baptist University to go support some friends of mine that are doing an International Service Project mission trip to Thailand and the Philippines (check out this video they made http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrtcL82uKmk and email me or contact CBU to find out how you can donate to their trip). I was only there an hour and a half, sitting 95% of the time, and by the time I got home, I was done. I was completely worn out just getting ready to go, let alone actually driving into Riverside and going to the event; but I felt that it was important that I showed up and give these wonderful young people support. Even though I couldn’t give money, I could show them that I am praying for them and their mission while they are there. They were going to continue the evening with a movie called “Hearing Everett”, but I just didn’t have it in me to stick around to see it. I am back to the analogy I have used before: I don’t think that I have the strength to kill a half-dead fly.

I know that this illness is a test from the Lord, a way to see how I will respond, whether I will lose faith or become stronger in Him. I, personally, believe that I have become stronger in Him. I have not once been afraid in all of this that it could be something terrible like cancer or MS, because I know that He is and has been with me through it all. I suppose there is always the potential that it could turn out to be something serious, but I have chosen not to dwell on it, but to do my part as a patient and as a Christian, doing the exercises and the praying that is required of me.

As for the weight, I hope that once I am well I will be able to keep it off and get back to the gym and continue losing weight, though in a much more appropriate manner of course. At the end of the day, though, I am me, Christine Rachuy, no matter how much I weigh. If my gurthiness, fluffiness, or rolls bother you, than just don’t look at me! I am not going to change who I am for anyone but myself. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, is what I always say. I may be fat with 20 piercings, multi-colored hair, and black eye make-up on, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gluttonous, mean, or scary. I am me, Christine Rachuy, and if you don’t like it, you’ll either have to learn to live with it or move on.

A So-So, Kinda OK-ish Kind of Day (Update meets rant)

Today was one of those kinds of days where you don’t feel good, but you don’t feel horrible, you just feel kind of…BLAH. All day my symptoms, which seem to be stirring up much controversy between my different doctors, had ebbs and flows. What little I ate today (a couple of Saltines, a Pure Protein drink, Ginger Ale, and some potatoes—which is probably the most I have eaten in weeks) has, so far, managed to stay down. I had a little yakking (I’m using the least graphic word for the faint of heart and stomach) issue this morning, but managed to calm it down. I’ve had some pretty typical issues (swaying, falling backwards, tipping to the side) with my balance, that didn’t really change today, but the vertigo episodes were fairly minimal. My head, by and large, still had a lingering headache, but nothing like it was yesterday where I would have just preferred someone perform a decapitation (I’m not serious about decapitation, I’m using it metaphorically).

My frustration level, I have to say, has increased quite a bit, because it seems as though nobody can agree on a diagnosis for me. I am basically deteriorating right before their eyes, but everyone is pointing their fingers in different directions about the cause(s), the treatment, and so forth. I am basically functioning like an anorexic, NOT BY CHOICE, mind you, but because my stomach cannot seem to handle anything more than water and crackers. I mean, lets be real, I know that I need to lose weight, that’s a no brainer, but the WAY that I have been losing weight is not healthy. I almost feel like they are waiting for me to completely collapse before their very eyes before they actually will come to some kind of conclusion. I am not seeking this, in ANY WAY, as a method for the doctors to collaborate and come to a decision, but I just feel like a rubber ball being bounced around (and, in my condition, all that will get you is me upchucking into Ralph [my beloved barf bucket]).

I have embraced the fact that I have to use a cane to get around. It’s a better alternative than looking like a lush stumbling around because I can’t keep going in a straight line or ending up on the ground with a broken bone or bruises all over the place (and we all know how easily I bruise). I have maintained possession of the black cane from physical therapy; so it’s much more suitable to me, since black is a color so closely associated with my persona.

This has been an interesting journey, to say the least. Bouncing from doctor to doctor to doctor and back again has definitely built up my patience level, though I have always considered myself a very patient person anyway.

Physical therapy, while to the average person would be nothing, is a very difficult task for me, normally causing me to be knocked out for the rest of the day. I had therapy yesterday and was attached to a parachute harness and strapped into a booth where the therapist could make either the walls or the footplate or both move, leaving me the task of making a little mini-me stay inside a box in the middle of the screen. Sounds like no big deal, but when your brain is not communicating appropriately, it’s a lot more difficult than it sounds. When she had the booth AND the footplate moving at the same time…OHMAN, she was dead out of luck having me keep that mini-me in that box, it was just NOT happening! By the time I got home I had SUCH a headache and was so exhausted from the day, that I passed out on the couch shortly after 8pm (totally missing Adam Lambert singing on American Idol, which TOTALLY bummed me out), was led to bed mumbling incoherently all the way at 10pm, woke up for about ten minutes around 5:30am and then went back to bed and didn’t wake up until 10:15. I don’t think I have EVER slept that much in my entire life…well, okay, probably when I was a baby, but that doesn’t really count. That could have contributed to my symptoms being somewhat minimized today, but it’s hard to say. I guess I’ll have to wait until my next physical therapy appointment and see what happens the day after.

I attempted playing with my puppies today (okay, they’re not really puppies, they’re 5 and 7 years old), throwing Eden’s pet rock and ball for her and cuddling with Grace as much as she allows (she’s a silly strange animal…totally in her own little bubble). It was nice getting to do that, but it only lasted for about 30 minutes before the headache started and I came inside. Eden knows that Mama isn’t feeling very well; so she tends to kind of hang around me and just wants to be petted. She’ll have moments where all she wants is her rock or ball thrown, but most of the time she just sticks by me, like she KNOWS that I am ill. She’s very protective of me…she loves her Mama! AAAWWW!

I’m still having issues with my reading, though my eyes checked out fine (well, as fine as a “blind” persons eyes can be checked out as being). My speech is sometimes scatterbrained and muddled, me, the former Human Thesaurus, has lost—hopefully momentarily—her touch. The Neurologist, though, seems nonplussed by these symptoms, so we’ll see how this all ends up playing out. Hopefully, its that I wake up tomorrow morning or some morning in the NEAR future, with a spring in my step and not a sign of the illness I have been battling for 2 months (tomorrow is the 2 month mark).

S-A-D

Today was just a s-a-d, sad day for me. I won’t go into graphic detail, but lets just say that what little food (5 Saltines and 3 sips of Ensure) I put in, came back out…twice. My head has been pounding all day, despite medication and sleep. And my eyes feel like they are still dilated from yesterday (they aren’t, but they feel that way).

That’s it for today…I’m just not up to writing anything more…I’m having trouble seeing the screen and my head is pounding…Tomorrow is another day, maybe there will be sunshine (metaphorically speaking).

Symbolism: Black & White VS. Color

I don’t know if any of you have noticed the pictures that I have added to the top and the bottom of my blog. The top photo is in black and white, kind of somber and ominous, whereas the color photo at the bottom is vibrant and full of color. Both, to me, are beautiful in their own way (both were taken by me, so I might be biased) and symbolize this journey that I am currently on. Whether they follow the rules of photography, right now, is not what is important; it’s what they represent in my current life.

The black and white photograph is solemn, maybe a little dark and gloomy, but that’s the stage that I am at right now. None of the doctors that I have seen, specialists included, have been able to pinpoint exactly what’s going on with me. A couple of them have their suspicions, but nobody has outright diagnosed me as having fill-in-the-blank. In the photo the stream wanders off into the abyss, into the unknown, symbolizing the unknown that is awaiting me. I don’t know what testing might be awaiting me or what diagnosis either; but, in the end, symbolized by the bottom photograph, I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

The color photograph is nearly identical to the black and white, though it seems to hold a more promising feeling within it. The colors are vibrant, maybe slightly over saturated, but that is how I have chosen to look at this journey. When all of this is through, whether it is by a miracle from God or by normal and/or radical treatment from a doctor (though, that too, is truly from God), there is a bright and shining life waiting for me on the other side. Right now I am Dorothy in Kansas, stuck in a black and white world of uncertainty and a feeling of not fitting in, but I know that there is a tremendously vibrant Oz waiting for me on the other side of that rainbow! I know that, in the grand scheme of things, that vibrant Oz will be Heaven and me standing before my God giving Him all of the glory; but, if coming out of the black and white and into the vibrant colors leaves me still here on earth, I know that there is something wonderful waiting for me there!

I’ve said before in other posts that if, in treating me with different cocktails or treatments that don’t work for me, but work for other people and save their lives or improve their lives, that will add a little color to my black and white photograph, getting me ever closer to that completely vibrant one on the bottom. Life, even in the bad times, shouldn’t be all about you. Naturally, you should have “me moments”, but, by and large, you need to always think about others and that’s what I’m trying to do on this journey. So far, the cocktail of pills I am on hasn’t worked as well as I think the doctors would have hoped, but maybe, next week, next month, or even tomorrow, someone else will walk into their office with the same symptoms and they will try the same cocktail and it will work for that person. If that happens, praise God!

I am keeping my eyes toward God, looking to Him and that vibrant picture that He is holding for me. I know that one day I will reach it and then, one day, I will reach the Ultimate Vibrant Picture, and be in Heaven with Him, with a new body, and with all of my loved ones that have gone on before me.

Oh, My Dilated Eyes!

Raise your hand if you have ever had your eyes dilated before—If you actually just raised your hand, smack yourself in the face and then continue reading! Today I went to the Ophthalmologist to have my eyes checked for glaucoma and nerve damage, but, in order to do that, I had to have my eyes dilated, which isn’t that big of a deal, it’s just more annoying than anything. Up to this point every time I have gone to the doctor in regards to my illness, without fail, each one has stated that my pupils are so tiny that they can hardly see whatever it is that they’re looking for back there. Today, once those gnarly drops were put in, I think the people in the next room could see them THROUGH the walls! Boy howdy, they were huge!

The doctor came in and looked at my eyes and declared that my headaches are not attributed to my eyes, because there was no sign of nerve damage or glaucoma, which is nice, but adds to the frustration level. It seemed to me that he looked a little harder at the left eye than he did at the right eye, which I think is interesting since my headaches are primarily on my left side, but he seemed nonplussed by it all. Then, with a hardy handshake and my AVS (After Visit Summary), he sent me on my merry (blind) way.

Everyone that knows me knows that I have worn glasses for a LONG time—since I was 3 ½ to be precise—and so by adding in the lovely dilating drops, I was a mess! With my glasses on I could manage…okay, but if I lifted them up to look at something (because inside with sunglasses on, you can’t see anything) everything and everyone was reduced to a blurry blob. I even told my dad that he looked like a Muppet if I lifted off my glasses! I could see his hair and see a blob that could only be his nose and that was about it! By the time we made this stop and that stop and another stop on the way home, I was really hurting. I did not come prepared with medicine for after the appointment, so going into it I already had a headache, but after the dilation, I was really hurting! Even my eyes had a “headache”! I later told my mom that I could feel my heartbeat in my eyes, that’s how much they were pounding. My dad enjoyed singing “The Three Blind Mice” since I have to walk with a cane (because of my balance issues) and then having on sunglasses (plastic fake things you slide behind your real glasses), so at least someone got enjoyment out of the situation.

Wednesday I go back to the Neurologist to see what he has to say about the continuation—and no improvement—of my symptoms. We’ll see what he thinks about it being Atypical Migraines or something else, what, I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out. Maybe he’ll have me do an MRI with contrast or maybe he’ll just prescribe me a different cocktail of medication to try. All I know is that I’m ready for all of this to be over with and now coming into tax time, I am TOTALLY stressing out, which will not, in any way, help my headache (which I have had for almost 2 weeks straight with only a VERY short respite).


MY NORMAL, EVERYDAY EYE

DILATED EYES


7 HOURS AFTER DILATION

Today Was NOT A Good Day

As with any illness, you have your good days, your mediocre days, and then you have your bad days. I would label today as a bad one. Sadly, I woke up this morning with a splitting headache, so I took some medication and went back to bed. When I woke up again, I still had the headache, so I took some more medication, a kind of cocktail that the doctors are experimenting with, in the hopes that the pain would go away. I slept most of the day and when I woke up again, I still had the headache. I had a little trail mix (the nuts have protein in them) and a little Ensure (YUCK) and then went back to sleep. Once Mom got home from grocery shopping, we planned on watching Julie and Julia, but before we really got started, the trail mix came back for an unwanted visit L. After sufficiently ridding my stomach of any nutrition I might have taken in during the day, we watched the movie (which is really cute).

What little energy I thought I might have stored up with the sleeping and trail mix has been totally annihilated and I have been reduced to that person I was a couple of days ago that wouldn’t have been able to kill a half-dead fly. It’s a bit frustrating, taking, what you think, is a few steps forward and then falling ten steps back, but I guess that is the process of healing. I can’t say that my throat will survive too many more trips to that beloved, re-vamped toilet of ours, but it’s better than getting it all over our beautiful new carpet, so se la vie!

I haven’t been able to do the new exercises that my physical therapist has given me to do, so hopefully tomorrow will be a better day and I can give them a go. Luckily, my therapist understands that I am still quite sick, so if I only manage to get to them a few times, I’m sure that she will understand. I have had the greatest of intentions on doing them, I swear, but that was just NOT going to happen today, given my current state. I hope that I will be able to make it to church tomorrow, but if I am not there, at least now, for those of you from church who might happen to read this, will know why.

Luckily, there is an upside to my day—which is hard to believe when there is barf involved—but in one of my waking moments I happened upon a commercial for a drink called Pure Protein, so I called my mom speedy quick (that’s a Junie B. Jones-ism for any elementary school teachers out there) and she was able to find it for me. I finished off what was left of my one Ensure (which is only the 2nd one that I’ve finished in the 3 or 4 days I’ve had them) and cracked open the Pure Protein and, in comparison with the Ensure, it was heaven! I don’t want to liken it to a chocolate shake or malt, that would be slightly insulting, but it’s DEFINITELY much better tasting than the Ensure.

I just really want to get back to normal life like you don’t even know! I miss my friends terribly and wish that they would come out and visit me, but most of them have families and busy schedules, so I understand that driving to the boonies is hard. I want to take pictures for my friend Tanya very badly too and she has been so patient and wants me to get better first, but, at this point, I just don’t know when that will be. I seem to paint my nails better in the current state I’m in, so maybe my picture taking ability will be better while I’m sick too! Who knows!

I love everyone so much and thank you beyond measure for the kindness that you have shown me during this difficult time. Writing this blog has been therapeutic and an artistic outlet for me, so I hope that you are enjoying them as much as I am enjoying writing them!

Depression, Frustration, and Fear (Which one of these three do you think CURRENTLY describes me?)

I have been asked frequently or its been insinuated into a conversation, that this illness, because of it’s length and the mystery of it all must really have me depressed. I’m sure that the average person would more than likely say “yes” to that kind of question/insinuation, but I have, with great certainty, replied “no” every time it has come up. There are a couple of reasons for this. The first, and most important reason is: I know that God is TOTALLY in control of this situation. I know that He has a plan and a purpose for me, a reason behind my having this illness, whatever it might be exactly. I have told people that in the course of trying to cure me, the doctors might come up with a cocktail of medications that won’t work for me, but might help someone else going through this same situation and that, for me, is just as important as getting me well again. Secondly, there really isn’t anything I can do about what’s going on with me. It’s not as if I can snap my fingers and magically be back to the Christine that everyone is used to seeing. There’s no sense in being depressed over something that is going to take time to fix.

Now, if you were to ask me if I am frustrated, I would tell you “yes”, but I am not in a constant state of frustration. It kind of goes back to the depression part, there’s no sense to it when you know that it’s not something that’s going to magically clear up overnight. The times when I am frustrated are usually when I happen to be alone and in so much pain that I just don’t know what to do with myself. It’s like when you happen upon a spider or other insect that you hate and you are alone and you just don’t know what to do, so you find yourself running around in circles screaming because you just don’t know what to do. Well, I don’t literally run around in circles screaming (I’d pass out if I did), but I have found myself standing in the kitchen or lying on the couch just crying because I’m in pain and I just don’t know what to do to make it go away. That happened a week ago when my parents were out of town…I was in such pain and I went looking for medication in the medicine cabinet and I couldn’t find what I was looking for and all I succeeded in doing was making mess. All I managed to do was stand in the middle of the kitchen and cry my eyes out. It was a kind of pain that only GINORMOUS tears would match what I was feeling. That is an example of when I become frustrated.

I have also been asked if I’m scared. What if this does end up being something serious, like a brain tumor that just isn’t showing itself yet, or it’s too small right now, but gets bigger. Am I scared of that happening? Am I scared of the treatment? Am I scared of dying? My answer to that is “no”. Do I realize that something like that is serious? Yes, of course I do. Do I realize that treatment for brain tumors is difficult? Yes, of course I do. Do I realize that all treatment could fail and I could end up dying? Yes, of course I do, but I have God on my side and He will be, and has been with me, every step of the way, so why should I be afraid? I cannot change an illness like cancer when it has already been set in motion, I just have to ride it out and see exactly what it is that God has in store for me. Again, they may try a cocktail on me that doesn’t work, but it might end up working for someone else, and that is just as important, saving the life of another person, as it is saving my own life. I know that I have the assurance of Heaven, so I have no worries about where I am going!

So far all tests, MRIs, CT Scans and blood work, have come back normal, showing no signs of tumors or lesions (which would indicate Multiple Sclerosis), so the likelihood of this being anything more than Atypical Migraines is slim. They tested me for H. Pylori (I had the name wrong in a previous post) and that came back negative, which is good. The results of the x-rays of my neck came back showing only minor signs of arthritis, but nothing that would be causing me to be this ill. My next step is Ophthalmology and then back to the Neurologist. I am continuing physical therapy, but my therapist has had to slow down the exercises for me, the intensity of them and how many that I do, because I am still considered a very ill person. I am being forced to sip on Ensure (which is THE nastiest tasting stuff) so that I get something of nutritional value in me, but I still live, by and large, off of Saltine crackers and iced tea. I have lost nearly 20 pounds since this has all started, which is nice since I need to lose weight anyway, but it’s bad because it hasn’t been in the healthiest way.

I appreciate everyone that has taken the time to read my blog. I hope that you have found it informative and, at times, humorous. I just really wanted people to understand what it is that I am feeling even though I may not look all that sick. I really appreciate all of the people, my parents, my cousin Candy, my Aunt Sherry, and my friend Maria who have all gone out of their way to be as much help to me as they possibly can be. I love reading the comments that people leave, whether I know you or not, so please keep leaving them. All prayer is appreciated, but please remember to pray for my one-on-one at work, that he understands that I am alive but very ill. I hear from his mother from time to time and she says that he worries about and misses me, so please keep him in prayer that he knows that I think of him often and miss him terribly.

It would be wonderful if people felt like driving out to the country to visit me. Car rides are a little bit on the torturous side for me, but I am not contagious in any way, so if you would like to come and visit me, give me a call and come on over. I can’t say that I’m the greatest company in the world right now, but it would be great to see the faces of the friends that I love so dearly!

The Blind Seems to Only Be Getting Blinderer (And more creative word making)

Have you ever seen those Claritin commercials where it starts off really hazy and the person, whether it be the fictitious veterinarian or the fictitious golfer, complains how their allergies make them feel like they’re so hazy, like they’re constantly in a fog until…TA-DA…they take Claritin and they are magically restored to normal life and they finally lift the haze off of the commercial? Imagine if the haze is never lifted. Imagine if your sight, on the worst of days (visually speaking) always looks like that. On my worst visual days, that is exactly how things appear to me, like I have a film of some kind over my eyes; though, thus far, they have checked out all right.

I have worn glasses since I was 3 ½ years old—I know, I know 3 ½!—so I am quite used to changes in my eyesight, but this blurriness is like nothing I have ever experienced before in my life! It’s because of that blurriness that I am unable to read and, at times, even able to see our television clearly. Back when this all started and I was still attempting going to work, it was a shot in the dark whether or not my make-up looked decent or not. I told my mom, who was standing a foot in front of me, that I couldn’t even make out her face. I could see that there was a person there, a blob for a nose, and two blobs for eyes, but any distinctive features were completely obscured. Rather than be scared by it, I just became frustrated because I love to read and write, take pictures, watch T.V, all activities that, in my own personal life, require eyesight (I say that, because I know that the blind can read and write and watch T.V, but I’m referring to actually seeing what I’m doing with my eyes).

I go to see the Ophthalmologist on Monday morning to get my eyes thoroughly checked, so we’ll see if I actually do have something going on with my eyes.
They called to tell me that I had to have a designated driver because they would be dilating my eyes, to which I said “I have to have one anyway, I haven’t driven in over a month!”. I’m sure that my prescription has changed, even though I just had my eyes checked in November, but we’ll see what the doctor has to say. Would be interesting if all of this nonsense is due to some sudden change in my prescription.

I just hope that I will be able to pick up a book soon and be able to read it without having to cross my eyes or open my eyes really wide and move the book around in order to read the words on the page. I hope that I can bring down the font I have to currently type in (today it is Times New Roman 22, with the value of the document at 100%--try it and see how big that is!) to something normal. I keep reminding myself that it is all in God’s time, so I am trying my best to remain patient. I cannot say that I don’t get frustrated sometimes, but I think that a little frustration in the face of a long illness is allowed

To Cane or Not to Cane, That is the Question

Have you ever seen a person at the mall or in a store walking with a cane and you think to yourself “why do they have a cane? They don’t look like they need one. They don’t even look like they’re using it really.” Well, that’s kind of how I feel about myself. After the testing the physical therapist did on me showed that I am in the range for “at risk for a fall” (my balance ability is 50% of what a person my ago should be), I am required to hold onto someone or something while walking. This means that, if I am outside of the house and I don’t have someone there with me to help keep my balance, I have to use a cane. Now, if I had just had knee surgery or something cool that required me to use a cane to help me walk, it wouldn’t be so bad; however, I feel like that one commercial where that lady has her arm in a sling and she’s at the grocery store and people ask her what happened and she gives each one a different story (skiing accident, motorcycle accident, etc), but the real reason she’s got an arm in a sling is because of the lime scum on her shower door. She has to use a sling for her arm because it’s so exhausted from scrubbing her bathroom; I’ve got to use a cane (or a person) because my balance is so horrible I could take a dive and end up REALLY needing that cane! It just seems so lame, you know?!

On the positive side, it did come in handy today when I went outside all by myself (I know, I’m getting to be such a big girl!) and let our dog Grace out of her pen. My body went on one of its kicks where, though I was saying lets go a little to the left to go around the front of these trucks, my brain/body had other ideas and tried to go right, so I was losing my balance; but, luckily, I had the cane and I was able to stay upright.

If I’m forced into having to keep the cane for a while, I think I’m going to trick that puppy out. I have one of my own at home, but it’s got purple flowers and stuff on it, WAY too girly for me, but the one I’m borrowing from physical therapy is black, so I’m going to see about keeping/buying it, so maybe I’ll have to add something fun to it…make zebra stripes on it or skulls…something that’s totally Christine and will make the fact that I have to use the blasted thing a little better!

Uhhhhh…Yeah, you know, THAT thing!

People who know me, know that I am a stickler for spelling, grammar, and just about anything related to words in general. I am a walking dictionary and thesaurus all wrapped up into one (big) package. Unfortunately, because my brain is trying so hard to communicate with my ears and my eyes to get them going in the right direction—more precisely, getting ME going in the right direction—I have begun forgetting things. Prior to this I could remember my schedule as well as the schedule of my friends and family, but right now I am lucky if I can even keep the days of the week straight much less what the date might be. I have also begun forgetting the names of every day items like “oven”, “chicken”, and “car”; which, for a person that is VERY language oriented, is VERY frustrating! I do not like forgetting things, spelling things wrong, or using improper grammar, it’s just one of my (many) eccentricities.

I used to be really good at remembering things that have happened in the past—i.e. childhood memories or things that happened last year or just last week—but ever since the headaches and vertigo have progressed I can barely remember what I said ten seconds ago let alone what I might have done the day before. I pray that these things will come back to normal once my brain/ears are communicating and functioning properly. It makes me feel like my IQ—which, to some, might have been questionable to begin with (that’s an attempt at humor)—has dropped significantly, not to mention my comprehension level. Sometimes, when people are explaining things to me, I’m quite certain they can see their words leave their mouth, fly through the air toward my head, and proceed to bounce off my forehead and fall to the floor, leaving them the task of re-explaining everything to me. Now, I’ve never claimed to be the absolute sharpest tool in the shed, but I am generally thought of as being a rather intelligent person, but lately I have become totally Forrest Gump-ified. So, until I am back to normal, use small words and be prepared to repeat yourself several times!

More of a true Update as opposed to rant

I went to the doctor again today—my primary physician—to discuss the continuation of my symptoms. On a plus side, I have dropped nearly 20 pounds since the last time I saw her, the downside to that is that I am basically starving myself; but it’s by no fault of my own, its not like I’ve turned anorexic or anything. She put me on two new medications to see if they help at all. One is actually used for people with nerve damage, so the idea behind that is to see if it helps with the headaches and allows me to sleep at night. The other is just Prilosect (however you spell it) because I am constantly burping—though, when I don’t burp a lot, I end up vomiting, so we’ll see how that pans out. She had blood work done to check and see if I may have this bacteria thing in my stomach called H.Chalori that might be causing this and she also referred me—marked urgent—to ophthalmology to have them check my eyes and see if that is playing any part in this, considering my vision issues that have cropped up during all of this. She also took x-rays of my neck to see if I have any significant arthritis or something that might be involved. In short, she was being as thorough as she could be to try and help get to the bottom of this. After I see the Ophthalmologist I am supposed to go back to the Neurologist and consult with him again. I also got two shots in my hips for my headache and for the nausea, so my hips are slightly bruised, but I’m a fighter, so I’m trying to push through all of this.

Prayer would be greatly appreciated, as this is not only debilitating, but also frustrating as all get out! I would much rather be at work with the kiddos dealing with elementary school drama, than be stuck at home never really knowing how I am going to be feeling that day.

Facades: Putting on a Pretty Face During a Not so Pretty Time

All right, just admit it, we’ve all done it: we put on a false front, a facade to cover up what we’re really thinking or feeling, possibly for the sake of others or ourselves even. I have almost got this down to an art form. I have nearly-mastered the art of putting on a happy face when, in complete and total reality, I want to talk like someone with a mouth full of Novocain. However, I know that when I talk that way people cannot understand what I am saying; furthermore, I don’t want to bring people down when they see me like that. Ok, I’m not typically a super upbeat person—I failed out of cheerleading and Girl Scouts because that sunshininess is just NOT Christine—but I’m a fairly funny and pretty sarcastic person (at least I am in my own mind) and so that is the facade that I have been putting on for people. I’ve been told that I don’t “look” sick, but you’re not seeing how I am once we’ve parted ways. Once I’m in the car with my mom—who has become my driver—Novocain Christine is back. That anvil from a five story building (that I talked about before) has been dropped and my ability to hold up that veneer is gone.

I can’t help but get sad and a little hurt when I feel like people around me are not taking what I am going through seriously. I’ve heard everything from “well, I get headaches too, you just need to sleep it off” to “all your tests have come back clear, so you must not be that sick”. Can you imagine how much that hurts? If anything, the fact that all of my tests have come back clear of anything major, but I’m still suffering these horrid symptoms should make one a little more concerned rather than dismissive. I’ve heard those lines and others from several people and it just “breaks my heart” as my one-on-one would say because it leaves ME feeling dismissed.

Ah, well, I have strayed from my intended rant on fake personas, but I hope that my point has made it across. Though I may put on a happy face—that’s including attempting to assimilate my make-up into something reasonable—doesn’t necessarily mean that I am actually feeling any better.

I Said GO LEFT! And Ginger Footed Walking

Have you ever gotten a shopping cart at the grocery store that, no matter how hard you try to make it go the way you want, it just down right REFUSES to go in the direction you want it to go? Your favorite brand of cereal is in isle 3, but you need to turn left to go down that isle, but the cart has this personal vendetta against you and locks its wheels, forcing you to have to actually PICK IT UP in order to make that turn. Sometimes, my body is that malfunctioning grocery cart. Recently there have been times where I have wanted to go left and I’m telling my body to head in that direction, but my blasted brain screws up the signals and I end up going right, half of the time looking like I’m hopping on one foot or a little tipsy. One time, I was getting up from the couch and, keep in mind, it’s a laborious process, I was trying to get up to go to the kitchen which is to the left, well, I went stumbling—quite quickly, actually—in the opposite direction, nearly falling flat on this gorgeous face that God gave me (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA)! It totally freaked my mom out, but I told her that I had absolutely no control over what the heck my body was doing!

The best method I have discovered for myself—which I TOTALLY abort when I’m in public because I don’t want them to think I’m a few slices short of a loaf—is by doing something very akin to a crab walk. Think Axl Rose in “Welcome to the Jungle” minus the whole body being involved. I just kind of side step my way, slowly, through the house. Sometime I adopt something similar to a prissy, upscale Manhattan woman’s walk, with my hands out “daintily” at my sides—they’re really acting as balancers—and prissy-woman walk my way through the house. Now, everyone that knows me—and you don’t even have to know me all that well to realize this—I am just about the furthest that you can be from a prissy woman. I prefer dirt and scrapes to make-up and facials, it’s just how I’m wired, but when I bust out my Manhattan walk all preferences are thrown out the window and I make my way, gingerly, wherever it is that I am trying to make it to.

So, if you happen to be so “lucky” to fall ill with this vertigo/migraine/ear infection stuff and need a lesson on making your way through your house semi-successfully, I am your woman!

Tired…Like, I’m in College and Had a Paper Due By Morning Kind of Tired

Remember when you were in college—or maybe you’re in college now and can TOTALLY sympathize with what I’m about to say—and you knew, for weeks even, that you had a paper due on a specific date, but, like any true visionary, you procrastinated so much that you forgot that it was due until the night before said date? So then you stay up ALL NIGHT and skim through a few books and class notes and then sit at your computer—or laptop—and type until your fingertips are bloody, print out the paper while you’re tossing on some new deodorant and running a comb through your hair, before running out the door to your class. You fly into the classroom, chucking your paper on your professor’s desk, and then sit, completely spent, in your seat in the furthest possible desk from the front of the classroom. Then the professor, like all “great” professors, proceeds to stand in front of the class and drone on and on and on and on…I think you get my drift…about something totally unrelated to your class and it hits you, like an anvil falling from a five story building—BAM—exhaustion has set in. Luckily, for you, the professor finally decides that he or she is finished hearing the sound of his or her own voice and cuts you loose, allowing you to go home and zonk out for an untold amount of time.

Now, how that little rant relates to my current life:

Every day, honestly, is a crapshoot for me in regards to how I am going to feel. It can be the dizziness and never-ending 3 hour tour feeling (read my first entry “Dizzy Comes and Dizzy Goes, if that didn’t make sense to you); it can be the never-ending headache; it could be a nice little mish-mash of the two; or an extra little tid-bit, if you will, could be added to the mix: complete and utter EXHAUSTION! Yesterday I actually ventured outside of the house—did you know that there’s a whole world outside the walls of my home?—and did grocery shopping with my mom. We left the house about an hour after I woke up—which was 10:45—and by the time I got my hind end dressed and little make-up slapped onto this sorry mug of mine, I was ready to go back to bed! I actually slept in the car for the 30 minute car ride from my place to Moreno Valley! Then, once we got into the store it was time to get a wheelchair. Now, understand, when I’m in the stores, I will take down a little old lady to get one of those wheezing electric carts before I go traipsing by foot around the joint! Exercise does a 100 year old body good! C’mon! Ok, I’m TOTALLY joking, my parents raised me better than that, but I think you get my drift.

In all honesty, I told my friend yesterday that I probably would not have been able to kill a half dead fly, THAT’S how exhausted I was. No amount of sleep, aided by drugs (ones given to me by the doctor!) or not, seems to alleviate how tired I am. My physical therapist has told me “go for the caffeine, not the booze”—to which I told her that booze was NOT an issue—so I have been drinking COPIOUS amounts of tea. I have actually, like a pregnant woman that craves ice cream and pickles, been craving iced tea, which my physical therapist said is a good thing because it’s stimulating my brain. Only side effect to it—well, there’s 2, one of which I’m sure you can figure out, tea is a diuretic, ponder it—is that it makes me have a hard time going to sleep, thus these late night blog postings. However, once I’m in bed, I am OUT for the night (most of the time) until 10:30 or later.

I guess the moral of this blog is: if I look drunk, high, or out of it, assume it is the latter of the three choices as I don’t drink or do drugs and just know that whatever it is that is ailing me is making me EXTREMELY tired. I DEFINITELY know that there are people out there in the world who are going through FAR worse things than what I am going through—I’ve totally got things in perspective—but I just wanted to let you in on another little “secret” to this allusive illness of mine.

Just Call Me Twitch: But if you call me that to my face, you may end up with a black eye!

I don’t know if it’s common within the migraine sufferer’s community to have facial and/or body twitches that accompany the headache(s), but I have been bestowed the wonderful “honor” of having twitches. Mostly it is just my left eye that twitches, but it has “migrated” to my left hand and, on rare occasions, to the bottom of my left foot. It is almost completely exclusive to my left side—RARELY my right eye will twitch—but, considering my headache(s) stay pretty limited to the left side of my head, I guess it stands to reason that it would be the left side of my body that acts up. I guess that this is one of the symptoms that are causing my physical therapist to lean toward all of this nonsense being atypical migraines, but she hasn’t totally committed to it being one specific thing.

Naturally, like when you take your clanking car to the mechanic and the clanking stops when the mechanic is around, the twitch is no different. Each specialist I’ve seen (ENT and Neurology) has been told about my twitches, but, naturally, the twitch never shows its ugly head when they’re looking. The only one “lucky” enough to see it happen was the Physical Therapist, so at least I know that too, like the rest of whatever this illness truly is, is not all in my head (no pun intended). When the twitch is going to town on my left hand it, naturally, goes for The Finger, the one, as a Christian, that I do not use. It is rather an awkward feeling, having that particular finger having a mind of it’s own. Now, it’s not as if it spontaneously jumps straight up and tells everyone around me that they’re #1; but it does wiggle around, almost as if I have a nervous habit. It truly is an odd feeling.

I have also been suffering from spontaneous fits of hiccups, something else that I do not know whether or not is attributed to atypical migraines. The thing about my hiccups is that they wake me up out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night. I have been woken up while sleeping on my side and while sleeping on my back. There is no acid reflux that accompanies them, they just appear out of nowhere and keep me awake for half an hour or so and then, after holding my breath for a few seconds several times, changing positions in bed, and deep breaths, they finally go away. These, I would say, are worse than the twitching of my eye/hand/foot because they wake me up in the middle of the night and sometimes it takes me a little while to get back to sleep. Granted, I sleep away most of the day, but, when you’re sick and you’ve finally hit that groove of good sleep in the middle of the night, the last thing you want is HICCUPS waking you up!!

As I’m sure you can tell, today was just a spasm-y kind of day that accompanied the never-ending headache. On the up side (which I try to find one every day, no matter how bad the day), my Sista-Mama Maria brought me a big stuffed ducky—which I named Waddle—for Easter. She knew that I really wanted a big plush stuffed animal for Easter, something to cuddle with when I’m feeling completely horrid, and I COMPLETELY appreciate and love her for doing that for me. She was a little bummed she couldn’t find me the big stuffed frog that I had been raving about, but I LOVE Waddle VERY much and couldn’t ask for anything more because I know that it was bought for me out of love. So, thank you, Maria! You were my Mama 2.0 this week and I really appreciate it!

With that I will say Happy Easter to all! Remember the REAL reason for Easter! I hope yours (and mine) is a non-twitchy day!

This is NOT a Pity Party

Imagine getting up every morning and feeling as though you have no control whatsoever on which way you’re going to go, even though you’re telling your body what you want it to do. Imagine every time you lay down, sit up, stand up, pull up covers, kick off covers, or look over your shoulder it seems like the world has completely fallen off-kilter. Imagine being a healthy 30 year old and then arriving home from work one day and that being the beginning of the end of normal life for you. That is, as we speak, the life that I am living. I can barely walk through my own home, the one that I have lived in for the past 24 years, without holding onto a wall, couch, chair, or busting out a cane in order to keep myself from falling face-first onto the floor. When I leave the house, someone has to drive me and, whomever that person happens to be, gets to be the lucky one that leads me around because I am too unstable and weak to walk a long distance on my own.Imagine something that you LOVE doing. Something that you have done for so long that it has almost become an extension of yourself. If you love make-up, you more than likely ALWAYS have tons of make-up in your purse. If you love to sing, you more than likely don’t even realize that you are constantly singing, no matter where you are and who is watching. Imagine not being able to do that. Imagine that, whatever this strange sickness is that has caused you to become dependent on others, has now prevented you from doing the very thing that you love doing the most. That has also happened to me. I LOVE to read and write. I carry paper, pens, and books with me AT ALL TIMES (that’s why my purses are huge and weigh 47 pounds), but, as a result of or in accordance with whatever it is that is making me sick, it has caused my eye sight, something that was already pretty horrible to begin with, to go even further downhill. Eighty percent of the time I cannot read the words in a book and, the worst part is, it doesn’t matter how big the font might be, I still cannot read it. As I type this I have the font set at 16 and the value of the document at 100% so that I can make out some of what it is that I am typing, but, by and large, I am lucky that I fiddled my way through typing in high school and can type decently.Every day is a crapshoot on how I will feel. It mostly goes on a cycle of one day dizzy and off-balance and the next day it’s a headache and off-balance. This week every day has been headache, dizzy, and off-balance. I take my medication and end up sleeping away most of the day because the meds make me so drowsy. Do they help the symptoms go away? No, but they knock me out or make me so loopy that I could really care less. I know that to most, I appear as though there is nothing wrong with me. I don’t appear “sick” and I might be putting on the best front that I can of being the normal Christine, but let me tell you: inside, I am miserable. But, I have been told, by people who only know me in passing because I might frequent their store, that they can tell that there’s something going on with me. Apparently I have been slurring my speech some and I forget the name of the most mundane things. Yesterday I couldn’t remember what chicken was called or what the oven was called; but, according to the neurologist, there is nothing that has shown up on my MRI or my CT Scan that shows anything that would be causing this to be happening. It’s very frustrating for me since I am used to being the human dictionary and thesaurus within my family and circle of friends.I am doing the best that I can to not allow whatever this is to get me depressed. By and large, I think I have been doing pretty well in that department. I have tried my best to maintain my signature Christine sarcasm and humor; but, naturally, there are some days where I just cannot do it. There have been days where I have had to cry myself to sleep because I feel THAT sick or THAT frustrated. Believe me, I have not lost faith and know that God is in control. I know that there has got to be something good that will come of this, maybe not for me, but maybe for the greater good of humanity in general, I just don’t know. But, if I’m completely honest with myself, I feel sad because I almost feel like I have been forgotten by some people. I know that we all have busy lives and I DO NOT expect people to drop everything in their lives for me, but a simple text saying that you care can do wonders for someone that is hurting. I am not pointing fingers, blaming anyone, and trying HARD to not have a pity party, that is NOT the intention behind writing this, but I think that we all, myself TOTALLY included, become so involved in what’s going on in our own lives that we forget about our hurting friends. I, myself, will try to work on this area myself and would like to ask all of you, my friends, to consider joining me in this crusade of sorts.At this stage in the game it is up in the air about when I will be able to go back to work. The last day I worked was March 8th and I have no idea, not even a ballpark figure, on when I might be able to get back to those crazy little kiddos that I love so much. I worry that they think I have died or abandoned them, but I am not allowed to visit them on campus, so I have been relaying my status to them through the classroom aid. Pray for them, that they will be able to understand that I am only very ill right now, but that I am not dying, at least not any more quickly than I was before all of this nonsense started.On a semi-positive note: I have lost around 10 pounds since all of this has started, especially since my visit to urgent care that landed me with an IV in my arm and fluids being pumped into me. I live mostly off of Saltines, iced tea, and Ginger Ale. I have attempted chicken and soup, but both instances ended in my doing a very realistic impersonation of Linda Blair, so it’s back to Saltines, tea, and Ginger Ale for me. What I “have” is not contagious, so if you ever feel like taking a drive out to the country, you’re more than welcome to come on out!