Well, I filed a code of ethics violation with the local association of REALTORS against the evil one who did not rent me an apartment. I didn't want to sue, but I did want to do something. I thought this way she'd get a letter at least, maybe even some education, and a letter would be on file somewhere about her actions against me.
So I went on the web to the association's risk management link, where I found a link to the national REALTORS' code of ethics. There was a local association's grievance form there, too. (An Acrobat .pdf that you could type in--hooray!)
So I filled it out, saying the REALTOR had violated Article 10 (will not discriminate on the basis of...handicap...etc.), telling the story, which I was able to use the blog post above to refresh my memory :D Of course, I had to add dates and name names. Then I signed it, made the husband sign it, and faxed it off. Have I mentioned that buying a fax machine was my best investment of the year? So useful for the disabled! And the abled! And it has paid for itself over paying the local copy shop.
I got a letter from the local association yesterday. They had reviewed my complaint and referred it for a hearing before the Professional Standards Committee. They amended the complaint with two more articles from the code: "REALTORS owe a fiduciary duty to their clients" and "Realtors must provide competent service." We had to sign to agree to the amendments. First, I checked with my wonderful best-friend-who-is-also-a-lawyer. She had some questions, too, so I called the "risk management person at the association and got some clarifications. So we signed it, and I faxed it this morning.
By the way, "violations of the code of ethics ay result in a letter of reprimand, a fine up t $5,000, probation, the requirement of additional ethics courses. or in sever cases, suspension or revoation of membership rights." But first, a hearing...will keep you posted.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
I think a realtor discriminated against me
I've just been told that I will not be given a lease on an apartment. The realtor is the owner's daughter, and claims he made the decision. She owns and/or manages many units in Ocean Beach.
On Thursday, when we viewed the apartment, she told us the application would depend on the credit check. On Saturday, she called and told my husband that our credit check was very good. Then she asked my husband if I was legally disabled. When he told her yes, she said her father was worried he would be required to make modifications. My husband said that modifications would not be necessary. We would make any necessary changes in such a way that they would not effect the apartment, and we would remove them when we left. He tried to describe the removable tub grab bar I use now. She asked if I would sign a waiver. He said he would check with me. He called me and I said yes, I would sign a waiver. He called her back and left a message. She then said she would have to check with their legal department. (I figured any legal department would tell them you can't discriminate!)
On Monday, the realtor called and said her legal department was closed for the holiday. Today, she called and said we weren't getting the apartment. The legal department would take a month to research the case, and she needed to rent the apartment right away. My husband was kind of dumbstruck. He called me. I called her cell and said I wasn't asking for or needing any modifications, and I was willing to sign a waiver. Then I said that California Civil Code prohibits discrimination based on disability. I said I wasn't looking for a lawsuit.
Then she called up my husband screaming that she hadn't discriminated against us because of disability. The other applicants do not have a dog, and offered a two-year lease. Hubby said we were not given that option, but she kept screaming she did not discriminate. (The sign said pets ok, and we took Spot on Thursday, so she could see how small and quiet he is. She said she didn't have a problem with him, and loves dogs.)
So what do you think? I'm pretty upset, but I know that a lawsuit is out of my reach. I wonder if and when I find another perfect apartment, will I be able to get it? It is hard to find them with no steps. That take dogs. With fenced in yards...oh the list is long. I am disappointed, and hurt. It is wrong, and unfair, and illegal. But it's not like we were recording the phone calls. It is not like I have a lawyer on retainer, or that this is the worst case of the year.
Next time, I won't take my cane? Because this is my fault, because I am differently abled. NO, NO, I must blame the realtor and her father. I'm putting this all down here in part to vent, and to keep a record. Beware--there are many people who are not good people.
Originally, I named the realtor's name in this post, but on reflection, I removed it. I did not want a lawsuit. Using the blogosphere did feel good for a little while, but petty revenge is not what I need. So I will move on, and persist in believing that there is justice and what goes around comes around.
On Thursday, when we viewed the apartment, she told us the application would depend on the credit check. On Saturday, she called and told my husband that our credit check was very good. Then she asked my husband if I was legally disabled. When he told her yes, she said her father was worried he would be required to make modifications. My husband said that modifications would not be necessary. We would make any necessary changes in such a way that they would not effect the apartment, and we would remove them when we left. He tried to describe the removable tub grab bar I use now. She asked if I would sign a waiver. He said he would check with me. He called me and I said yes, I would sign a waiver. He called her back and left a message. She then said she would have to check with their legal department. (I figured any legal department would tell them you can't discriminate!)
On Monday, the realtor called and said her legal department was closed for the holiday. Today, she called and said we weren't getting the apartment. The legal department would take a month to research the case, and she needed to rent the apartment right away. My husband was kind of dumbstruck. He called me. I called her cell and said I wasn't asking for or needing any modifications, and I was willing to sign a waiver. Then I said that California Civil Code prohibits discrimination based on disability. I said I wasn't looking for a lawsuit.
Then she called up my husband screaming that she hadn't discriminated against us because of disability. The other applicants do not have a dog, and offered a two-year lease. Hubby said we were not given that option, but she kept screaming she did not discriminate. (The sign said pets ok, and we took Spot on Thursday, so she could see how small and quiet he is. She said she didn't have a problem with him, and loves dogs.)
So what do you think? I'm pretty upset, but I know that a lawsuit is out of my reach. I wonder if and when I find another perfect apartment, will I be able to get it? It is hard to find them with no steps. That take dogs. With fenced in yards...oh the list is long. I am disappointed, and hurt. It is wrong, and unfair, and illegal. But it's not like we were recording the phone calls. It is not like I have a lawyer on retainer, or that this is the worst case of the year.
Next time, I won't take my cane? Because this is my fault, because I am differently abled. NO, NO, I must blame the realtor and her father. I'm putting this all down here in part to vent, and to keep a record. Beware--there are many people who are not good people.
Originally, I named the realtor's name in this post, but on reflection, I removed it. I did not want a lawsuit. Using the blogosphere did feel good for a little while, but petty revenge is not what I need. So I will move on, and persist in believing that there is justice and what goes around comes around.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Not no news
No needle biopsy. Almost yeah, but no, it's clearly a lymph node with "activity". So now it joins the roster for surgery on 7-30: behind ear, in front, down neck, shoulder. Whee. I had the MRI Friday. It was the first time one truly bothered me physically. I blame the swollen node affecting my ear. I had vertigo when i when to get up and ever since. Not terrible, but I notice it when I shift levels or turn from side to side. Definitely not shopping weather. After the surgery, three weeks to rest, then radiation. Sort of messes up my plans!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Nervous Nellie
My grandmother used to call me that when I was little. I always have been nervous. Kind of funny (peculiar) when you consider that this central nervous disorder endlessly sends my nerves flaring. This week has been hard. I have a severely swollen lymph node just in front of my left ear. I saw the resident subbing for my primary care on Monday. Nothing obvious seemed wrong, so today I am having a needle aspiration and biopsy. Joy.
Meanwhile, I've been having muscle spasms in my jaw and head--muscles Ive never thought about, but ouch. Plus my legs are bad. Lots of little muscle spasms--feet, arms, calves--all kind of separate, but still enough to stumble or awaken. My primary care told me last week that Abilify, the medication I am taking for supposed bi-polar, has a host of effects on the CNS. Her discharge note said to discuss with my psychiatrist if there was change in fatigue or legs. Did I mention fatigue, or my legs? My body feels like it belongs to someone else. I have to stop this. No, I can do it.
Of course, the psychiatrist changed this month. I see the new one next week. Should I start by demanding to get off this medication? No, I have to share my concerns. "How do you do? I don't think I need all these meds?"
Tomorrow, I am scheduled for an MRI. I canceled PT today. I should ride my bike. That so great to do in front of the housekeeper...
Meanwhile, I've been having muscle spasms in my jaw and head--muscles Ive never thought about, but ouch. Plus my legs are bad. Lots of little muscle spasms--feet, arms, calves--all kind of separate, but still enough to stumble or awaken. My primary care told me last week that Abilify, the medication I am taking for supposed bi-polar, has a host of effects on the CNS. Her discharge note said to discuss with my psychiatrist if there was change in fatigue or legs. Did I mention fatigue, or my legs? My body feels like it belongs to someone else. I have to stop this. No, I can do it.
Of course, the psychiatrist changed this month. I see the new one next week. Should I start by demanding to get off this medication? No, I have to share my concerns. "How do you do? I don't think I need all these meds?"
Tomorrow, I am scheduled for an MRI. I canceled PT today. I should ride my bike. That so great to do in front of the housekeeper...
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
She lives
As I like to say, rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated--thank you Mr. Twain. I just got off a long phone call with my primary care. I've had 5 months of hell that I will not even try to document right now. Trust me, hideous. Meanwhile, believe it or not, my thyroid has gone for a dive (my THS is up, in other words). This when I just got off the two nasty nasty meds I was taking for psychological troubles, that I and a few other people aren't sure I really had/have. But I am still taking stuff, to be careful. And because saying, "I'm not crazy," is the first thing any crazy person says. Wait. I may rant about the $1300 bill I had to pay because albuterol gives me such insomnia that I become delusional..nuff said for now.
I've gotten a little hung up on invalid equals invalid. I would love to be validated. Guess I need to go to the flash cinema in Hillcrest.
I can't change the blog name without starting it over as a new blog. Just add an "s" at the end. I went back to work half time after four months on disability. To the many, very nice, curious people, I have said "multiple medical issues". That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
More wrangling over prior authorizations for meds this week. Boring. Waste my time--you're welcome! Next it's a PET scan Wednesday, then I expect another appointment with the surgeon. Then scheduling the next surgery. More boring, in a completely scary way.
I'm not saying this in the spirit of "poor me". I just need to let it out a bit. I may be blogging here a bit more frequently, as venting does help. And she does live.
I've gotten a little hung up on invalid equals invalid. I would love to be validated. Guess I need to go to the flash cinema in Hillcrest.
I can't change the blog name without starting it over as a new blog. Just add an "s" at the end. I went back to work half time after four months on disability. To the many, very nice, curious people, I have said "multiple medical issues". That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
More wrangling over prior authorizations for meds this week. Boring. Waste my time--you're welcome! Next it's a PET scan Wednesday, then I expect another appointment with the surgeon. Then scheduling the next surgery. More boring, in a completely scary way.
I'm not saying this in the spirit of "poor me". I just need to let it out a bit. I may be blogging here a bit more frequently, as venting does help. And she does live.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Your milage may very
I have not abandoned this blog. At least not permanently. I did hit a slough of despond there for a while. All I wanted to do was sleep or read. I felt like I didn't have anything to say to anyone, in conversation or in writing...
I've stayed on the antidepressant, even though it seems to have made things worse rather than better. Hubba Hubba told me 12/26, when he increased the dosage to 30 mgs that I should feel better in about 10 days. I didn't. But I persevered. For my birthday, Matt gave me a stationary bicycle. Then we looked at the set up instructions. They were way past our level. So, on New Year's Eve Day, we had our friend Joe come over and he and Matt put it together. Yeah! I can now bike to nowhere in the comfort of my own bedroom.
I started riding 5 minutes a day, and have increased to 11 at this point. Doesn't seem like much, but I think if I can get it up to 20 min. a day, it should make a difference at least in my cardio health. Plus, when I went to the primary care on Tues., my blood pressure was 125/84. Golden numbers for me.
The visit with the primary care was just routine follow up. However, I have had a new wrinkle crop up. I have three dime-sized lumps on my scalp. I thought they were a zit at first, or a new mole. But they didn't pop. They did itch, and I had great difficulty not scratching. And they had begun to hurt. So it was time someone looked at them. Madam Milktoast said they were an infection, and prescribed an antibiotic and a steroid liquid topical thing, Fluocinonide. Another lecture on the dangers of skin infections. I had to ask, since this is the third one in less than a year, is it due to the Copaxone. I should discuss that with my neurologist. I should call this number in 5 days for a dermatology consult. The word biopsy was uttered. I immediately flashed on the skin biopsies I had 2 years ago that didn't heal properly. I think the under bra side one never will at this point, but it is mostly a souvenir.
OK, fill prescriptions, etc. In 3 days, the lumps no longer hurt, but they haven't gotten much smaller. Oh well. Then yesterday, I get a call from Shiela, Milktoast's nurse. They got back my labs. My TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) was a 0.06 on Tues. Normal range is .5-5.5? I am seriously low. Gee, maybe that's why I've been so tired and down! Hyperthyroidism. I'm sad to say, no weight loss. Change dosage of thyroid hormone and dance.
I am wondering why, if I went eight years, 1997-2005 without a change in my thyroid levels, why is this the third change in 1.5 years? Once again, is it the disease or the treatment?
I've stayed on the antidepressant, even though it seems to have made things worse rather than better. Hubba Hubba told me 12/26, when he increased the dosage to 30 mgs that I should feel better in about 10 days. I didn't. But I persevered. For my birthday, Matt gave me a stationary bicycle. Then we looked at the set up instructions. They were way past our level. So, on New Year's Eve Day, we had our friend Joe come over and he and Matt put it together. Yeah! I can now bike to nowhere in the comfort of my own bedroom.
I started riding 5 minutes a day, and have increased to 11 at this point. Doesn't seem like much, but I think if I can get it up to 20 min. a day, it should make a difference at least in my cardio health. Plus, when I went to the primary care on Tues., my blood pressure was 125/84. Golden numbers for me.
The visit with the primary care was just routine follow up. However, I have had a new wrinkle crop up. I have three dime-sized lumps on my scalp. I thought they were a zit at first, or a new mole. But they didn't pop. They did itch, and I had great difficulty not scratching. And they had begun to hurt. So it was time someone looked at them. Madam Milktoast said they were an infection, and prescribed an antibiotic and a steroid liquid topical thing, Fluocinonide. Another lecture on the dangers of skin infections. I had to ask, since this is the third one in less than a year, is it due to the Copaxone. I should discuss that with my neurologist. I should call this number in 5 days for a dermatology consult. The word biopsy was uttered. I immediately flashed on the skin biopsies I had 2 years ago that didn't heal properly. I think the under bra side one never will at this point, but it is mostly a souvenir.
OK, fill prescriptions, etc. In 3 days, the lumps no longer hurt, but they haven't gotten much smaller. Oh well. Then yesterday, I get a call from Shiela, Milktoast's nurse. They got back my labs. My TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) was a 0.06 on Tues. Normal range is .5-5.5? I am seriously low. Gee, maybe that's why I've been so tired and down! Hyperthyroidism. I'm sad to say, no weight loss. Change dosage of thyroid hormone and dance.
I am wondering why, if I went eight years, 1997-2005 without a change in my thyroid levels, why is this the third change in 1.5 years? Once again, is it the disease or the treatment?
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
what is and isn't wrong
OK, I've been feeling like I don't have much to say. This applies across the board--conversation, blogs, twitter. There's been a lot of nothing. I've been wondering if this is the "flat" feeling that my brother told me he had on Paxil. No highs, no lows. Though it feels kid of low. Hubba Hubba upped my Lexapro dose to 30 mgs last week, and told me it wouldn't take effect for about 10 days. It has been seven. I wonder what happens if that doesn't work. Try another medication? Have to titer down off this one first? Just guessing. Then I wonder, maybe I'm not depressed? I always think back to the period at the end of my marriage. I really did feel like a black cloud above my head followed me around. At times, the black cloud came down and closed me off from everything. That was my definition of being depressed.
Crochet is going ok. I have now mastered the half double crochet stitch. Not that I know what I am going to do with it. Soon, I will look at baby blanket patterns, so I can crochet something for Kelly's baby by April. The crochet is calming. I wish I could do it all day.
The Lexapro does seem to be causing some bruising. Not like Coumadin, but almost every injection leaves a small bruise now. I am still religious about rotating the sites. I really don't want to damage the tissue.
I also have some strange bumps on my scalp. They started with one bump around Thanksgiving. Now there are two large bumps and some smaller ones. They are not painful, but itchy. I will have to show them to my primary care at my appointment next week.
Crochet is going ok. I have now mastered the half double crochet stitch. Not that I know what I am going to do with it. Soon, I will look at baby blanket patterns, so I can crochet something for Kelly's baby by April. The crochet is calming. I wish I could do it all day.
The Lexapro does seem to be causing some bruising. Not like Coumadin, but almost every injection leaves a small bruise now. I am still religious about rotating the sites. I really don't want to damage the tissue.
I also have some strange bumps on my scalp. They started with one bump around Thanksgiving. Now there are two large bumps and some smaller ones. They are not painful, but itchy. I will have to show them to my primary care at my appointment next week.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
unimpressive antidepressant
I've been taking Lexipro for over three weeks now, and the results have not been spectacular. I have also caught yet another cold, and been trying to sandwich Christmas preparations into the day as well, like the rest of North America. I am actually in pretty good shape on that front, though I haven't decorated the house much.
So, mainly the Lexapro seems to make me feel flat. I don't much want to do anything. I haven't felt like I have anything to say. That includes conversation and writing. Since I usually run off at the mouth without applying the breaks, this is pretty unusual for me. I've pretty much had to force myself to do things.
I've also had a huge increase in flatulence, which is pretty embarrassing in a public service job. There's also been weight gain, and I haven't been doing my physical therapy exercises. I just stopped at some point because they didn't seem to be helping. Now I feel like some kind of slug. I am going to try to buck up and do more. If nothing else, I need to firm up, or buy a new wardrobe. Of course, shopping is another activity that is very difficult.
I see the psychiatrist tomorrow night. When I saw him three weeks ago, he thought I would be feeling much better by now. He said if I wasn't, he would increase the dose. What a great way to spend my four-day mini-vacation! OK, I've vented a bit.
So, mainly the Lexapro seems to make me feel flat. I don't much want to do anything. I haven't felt like I have anything to say. That includes conversation and writing. Since I usually run off at the mouth without applying the breaks, this is pretty unusual for me. I've pretty much had to force myself to do things.
I've also had a huge increase in flatulence, which is pretty embarrassing in a public service job. There's also been weight gain, and I haven't been doing my physical therapy exercises. I just stopped at some point because they didn't seem to be helping. Now I feel like some kind of slug. I am going to try to buck up and do more. If nothing else, I need to firm up, or buy a new wardrobe. Of course, shopping is another activity that is very difficult.
I see the psychiatrist tomorrow night. When I saw him three weeks ago, he thought I would be feeling much better by now. He said if I wasn't, he would increase the dose. What a great way to spend my four-day mini-vacation! OK, I've vented a bit.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
long time no type
Been busy. Three doctors and a therapist appointment last week. Overdoing it, besides. I have been sleeping better. I had a weird earlobe explosion. I am contemplating giving up pierced ears. I just don't need something that gets infected. Even little infections can have serious effects on me. I am continuing to view every medical eventwith great caution. It may seem silly to some, or hypochondrical, but I am the person in charge of this vessel. Staying afloat is a major goal.
I received a wheel chair yesterday. It's a loaner, but the company doing the rental told me I can keep it as long as I need. Of course, it's like another piece of furniture in the house. It is currently parked by the bicycle. It is a lightweight, folding model. However, it is too large for my trunk, even if I cleared out the stuff. It just made it into the back seat, with the foot holders off. Besides my general ambivalence, I'm not sure where/how to keep it. I don't like driving with it in the back seat. It obscures the rearview mirror, and shifts around a bit on corners. Maybe a bike rack would work?
I also really wish it had arrived on Friday, as planned. The rain screwed up their deliveries. I didn't go to the OB parade...too much walking...sad to have missed it.
I received a wheel chair yesterday. It's a loaner, but the company doing the rental told me I can keep it as long as I need. Of course, it's like another piece of furniture in the house. It is currently parked by the bicycle. It is a lightweight, folding model. However, it is too large for my trunk, even if I cleared out the stuff. It just made it into the back seat, with the foot holders off. Besides my general ambivalence, I'm not sure where/how to keep it. I don't like driving with it in the back seat. It obscures the rearview mirror, and shifts around a bit on corners. Maybe a bike rack would work?
I also really wish it had arrived on Friday, as planned. The rain screwed up their deliveries. I didn't go to the OB parade...too much walking...sad to have missed it.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Saved by the script doctor (non-union)
To get out of the emergency room last Sat. (I may fill you in on it more later) I had to promise to take Zyprexa until I could see my primary care or neurologist. Then I went home and took one and my gross motor skills went south. I was none too happy, but since I slept 11 hours straight I decided to stick with it.
I have been taking it religiously, but not feeling much better. Unfortunately, I only had a few left from the spring--not even enough to last until my p.c. visit next Monday...
First, I called my neurostar's office and left a voice message. I did not hear back from them. The neuro-resident in the ER had told me she wasn't available then either. So I'm thinking she's in France, like in April, skiing Gstaad or something. I know she works hard, but why do I have crises when she's out of town? But, I digress.
Neuro's office called the next day to tell me to go through either the neuro clinic at the hospital or my primary care. So, next, I called primary care and talked to a nurse. The nurse felt I should go through the neuro resident that first prescribed Zyprexa, wherever he may be.
Then I remembered the trick-cyclist I saw last spring after my delusional episode, Dr. Full of Himself. He's an M.D. psychiatrist with another degree or two in pharmacology. Actually, I generally refer to him a "Hubba Hubba." So I called his office. I have the habit of putting business cards in my billfold. Once again, that came in handy. Himself could not reorder without seeing me again. Hubba had openings that afternoon (yesterday) or today. I conferred with the Boyfriend, and today at 1:30 worked best with his schedule. Truly a rotten way to spend vacation hours. Will have to try to make it up somehow.
Hubba asked me the usual 20 questions about where and how I was and when. He decided I have been mildly depressed for a few months. I should discontinue Zyprexa--wrong drug. I strongly felt that was worth the co-pay. I asked about Paxil. He said he didn't recommend it because a primary side effect is weight gain. (I didn't realize he was calling me fat until I got home. It's true. Am a pudge. Blaming lack of exercise plus strong desire for chocolates.) Anyway, he is putting me on Lexapro aka Escitalopram. Here's what Medline says are the side effects:
* nausea
* diarrhea
* constipation
* changes in sex drive or ability
* drowsiness
* increased sweating
* dizziness
* heartburn
* stomach pain
* excessive tiredness
* dry mouth
* increased appetite
* flu-like symptoms
* runny nose
* sneezing
Since I had vast bouts of nausea on Sat., I really hope I skip that one! I'll keep you posted--I'm hoping as a happier camper.
N.B. Isn't that a wonderful image? My friend Jenne just found it when looking for an avatar--somehow it's related to a librarian in Russia? Anyway, I love it.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The best there never was
Jesus Louis. I am out of my mind sometimes! (Enough with the exclamation points,) even if they do add to my girlish charms. The Offspring thinks I chat like a twelve year old. She doesn't understand what an accomplishment that is for someone just shy of half a century! Eek. That one just escaped. In any case, I came up with several interesting and/or funny things to say this morning. But I need to change blogs first. Just give me a minute. You may talk among your selves.
First: song lyrics are just song lyrics. Some song lyrics have deep meaning. Others not so deep; they are just lyrics. Kind of like great poetry vs. good poetry vs. doggerel. (Pause to reassure Spot he isn't doggerel.) (Another pause for a cleansing breath.)
Second: Saying I am not the Annoyed Librarian doesn't mean I am not depressed. I am depressed. Enough with the happy chatter.
Third: If you want to feel good about yourself, check out the online support groups>
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The best is yet to come
Notice I put an optimistic headline. And gave you pix of the Wonder Dog with his favorite toy. No one can ask for more.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Heart full of rubber bands
Actually, most of me feels full of rubber bands. I think it is the MS reaction to the antibiotics. My legs started getting really squiffy yesterday. Today, it's International Walk-Like-A-Drunken-Sailor Day, right? That's how I look, lurching around. We went out briefly, a food coop, library, drug store run. I had to stay in the car or rest on benches most of the time. I hate when the Camille routine crops up when I have things I want to do. Grrr.
I know that both my primary care and my neuro would say that I was crazy to do anything this week, let alone to work four eight-hour days. I think I'm supposed to write myself off as on disability on a semi-part time, semi-permanent basis. Meanwhile, I am scheduled to work tomorrow. My current plan is to go in, play the itty-bitty violin a bit, and spend most of the day in the office. Of course, I try that plan regularly and end up spending most of the day standing and walking around helping people. It's a mug's game.
So I am back to feeling sorry for myself. I can barely stand it myself, besides being barely able to stand. I still have the low-level headache that I have been blaming on the Doxycycline. Only two more doses left--yeah. So I am hoping the headache and some of the neuro misfires will ride off into the sunset together. Then I am going to try Paxil, which my neuro prescribed in April, but which I did not try then. First I have to get off all the cold meds. Then I need to start on a weekend I am not working, to see if there is more drowsiness or if motor function is affected.
I am going to try Paxil, in hopes that it will lessen the hot flashes. They have been much more frequent lately, and really interrupt sleep. Though Paxil is mainly an anti-depressant, it seems to have some effect on hot flashes and muscle spasms. I am pretty nervous about taking it. I tried it many years ago and had a panic attack the first time I took it. Then, years later, my brother had a manic attack after stopping Paxil too quickly. I know that going into it with that knowledge makes me forewarned/forearmed. I'm still nervous about it. But I can't keep complaining and then refuse to try treatments. So I may try it next weekend, or I may not. Will discuss with shrink tomorrow night.
I know that both my primary care and my neuro would say that I was crazy to do anything this week, let alone to work four eight-hour days. I think I'm supposed to write myself off as on disability on a semi-part time, semi-permanent basis. Meanwhile, I am scheduled to work tomorrow. My current plan is to go in, play the itty-bitty violin a bit, and spend most of the day in the office. Of course, I try that plan regularly and end up spending most of the day standing and walking around helping people. It's a mug's game.
So I am back to feeling sorry for myself. I can barely stand it myself, besides being barely able to stand. I still have the low-level headache that I have been blaming on the Doxycycline. Only two more doses left--yeah. So I am hoping the headache and some of the neuro misfires will ride off into the sunset together. Then I am going to try Paxil, which my neuro prescribed in April, but which I did not try then. First I have to get off all the cold meds. Then I need to start on a weekend I am not working, to see if there is more drowsiness or if motor function is affected.
I am going to try Paxil, in hopes that it will lessen the hot flashes. They have been much more frequent lately, and really interrupt sleep. Though Paxil is mainly an anti-depressant, it seems to have some effect on hot flashes and muscle spasms. I am pretty nervous about taking it. I tried it many years ago and had a panic attack the first time I took it. Then, years later, my brother had a manic attack after stopping Paxil too quickly. I know that going into it with that knowledge makes me forewarned/forearmed. I'm still nervous about it. But I can't keep complaining and then refuse to try treatments. So I may try it next weekend, or I may not. Will discuss with shrink tomorrow night.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The catarrh
I started this post last week, then everything sort of went out the window due to the wildfires. We are fine. MPOW was closed Tuesday, but otherwise its been pretty normal. The air quality still sucks, though much improved over earlier in the week.
I know my naval-gazing on my health problems may seem pretty cavalier when there has been such bad happenings here. But so far, no one I know has been directly affected. A friend of the sister of one of my co-workers had their home burned down, but that's the closest connection I've had so far. We had evacuees from all over using our PCs at work, and apparently all the hotels near here are full, but otherwise, it's pretty normal.
Of course, my lungs have been unhappy. I went to my primary last Friday. She diagnosed bronchitis--I'd made that diagnosis 2 days earlier, and went in to get a script for an antibiotic.
From last week:
I am trying to figure out roughly how many times I've had bronchitis. I know the first time I was prescribed antibiotics for it was in college, i.e., more than 25 years ago. The doctor there kept talking about removing my tonsils, whether or not it was tonsilitis, which I must have had ten times at least. I know I'd never had antibiotics before, or had anyone talk to me about asthma before.
I remember a bad bout of bronchitis when Emily was a baby. We lived on a hill. It was before we had a car, and I couldn't push her stroller up the hill without coughing fits.
The word "catarrh" comes from the Greek "katarrhein": kata- meaning "down" and rhein meaning "to flow."
Two weeks ago, the Santa Ana began to blow. Our sunsets were gorgeous from the dust in the air. But my respitory allergies began to send mucus flowing through my head and chest. Shortly thereafter my bronchia started seizing up. I upped the Flovent for the asthma, and it got a bit better, just the dry little asthmatic cough.
Then I lost my voice entirely--a viral laryngitis. I pushed fluids and took ibuprofen like mad. The cough deepened. Matt said I had a cold. I said ok, and kept working. On Thursday, the cough was the type that people don't want to be near. It wasn't very productive, as my mother would say, but the tiny bit of mucus I coughed up was pea green. I said bronchitis, and called for an appointment. I actually got in to see my primary care MD in 24 hours.
When I got to the office, the nurse went through twenty questions. 11 days, no fever, the usual meds. There was some mix-up about the room I was in, but my primary care finally came and apologized. She did a good listen to my lungs and agreed with my diagnosis. She ordered doxycycline, then told me to use albuterol with Flovent and Sudafed along with Robitussin DM every four hours, plus Benadryl at night. I said that albuterol gives me insomnia. She said to use it anyway. I have been politely ignoring that instruction, because I felt I needed sleep more than anything. So I'm taking the antibiotic with Flovent every four hours, and a half dose of Sudafed twice a day; Robitussin and Benadryl at bedtime. I am definitely rattling with all the meds. The cough is much improved, however, so I will keep up the regimen a bit longer.
I seem to have a headache, nothing dreadful, just sort of boring, with difficulty focusing. I'm going to sleep, and hope to feel better
There are wild fires burning in the County, including one not too far from where I work. That helps with perspective.
Now:
I kept going with the meds. I think the bronchitis has mostly cleared up. The asthma was pretty bad Monday. I caved and used albuterol once that morning, and got an acute case of the jitters, which did not help me deal with the general sense of calamity. Tuesday, the whole library system was closed, so I mostly stayed in bed. So, I've been ok. I think the Benadryl and the Flovent kept the worst allergies/asthma at bay.
I finally got my schedule switched! No more six days in a row. I will now be off alternate Fridays, work alternate Saturdays, and in every Monday. I think that will work better for me and for work, as there are more meetings on Mondays than on Fridays. So that's my big new and good.
I know my naval-gazing on my health problems may seem pretty cavalier when there has been such bad happenings here. But so far, no one I know has been directly affected. A friend of the sister of one of my co-workers had their home burned down, but that's the closest connection I've had so far. We had evacuees from all over using our PCs at work, and apparently all the hotels near here are full, but otherwise, it's pretty normal.
Of course, my lungs have been unhappy. I went to my primary last Friday. She diagnosed bronchitis--I'd made that diagnosis 2 days earlier, and went in to get a script for an antibiotic.
From last week:
I am trying to figure out roughly how many times I've had bronchitis. I know the first time I was prescribed antibiotics for it was in college, i.e., more than 25 years ago. The doctor there kept talking about removing my tonsils, whether or not it was tonsilitis, which I must have had ten times at least. I know I'd never had antibiotics before, or had anyone talk to me about asthma before.
I remember a bad bout of bronchitis when Emily was a baby. We lived on a hill. It was before we had a car, and I couldn't push her stroller up the hill without coughing fits.
The word "catarrh" comes from the Greek "katarrhein": kata- meaning "down" and rhein meaning "to flow."
Two weeks ago, the Santa Ana began to blow. Our sunsets were gorgeous from the dust in the air. But my respitory allergies began to send mucus flowing through my head and chest. Shortly thereafter my bronchia started seizing up. I upped the Flovent for the asthma, and it got a bit better, just the dry little asthmatic cough.
Then I lost my voice entirely--a viral laryngitis. I pushed fluids and took ibuprofen like mad. The cough deepened. Matt said I had a cold. I said ok, and kept working. On Thursday, the cough was the type that people don't want to be near. It wasn't very productive, as my mother would say, but the tiny bit of mucus I coughed up was pea green. I said bronchitis, and called for an appointment. I actually got in to see my primary care MD in 24 hours.
When I got to the office, the nurse went through twenty questions. 11 days, no fever, the usual meds. There was some mix-up about the room I was in, but my primary care finally came and apologized. She did a good listen to my lungs and agreed with my diagnosis. She ordered doxycycline, then told me to use albuterol with Flovent and Sudafed along with Robitussin DM every four hours, plus Benadryl at night. I said that albuterol gives me insomnia. She said to use it anyway. I have been politely ignoring that instruction, because I felt I needed sleep more than anything. So I'm taking the antibiotic with Flovent every four hours, and a half dose of Sudafed twice a day; Robitussin and Benadryl at bedtime. I am definitely rattling with all the meds. The cough is much improved, however, so I will keep up the regimen a bit longer.
I seem to have a headache, nothing dreadful, just sort of boring, with difficulty focusing. I'm going to sleep, and hope to feel better
There are wild fires burning in the County, including one not too far from where I work. That helps with perspective.
Now:
I kept going with the meds. I think the bronchitis has mostly cleared up. The asthma was pretty bad Monday. I caved and used albuterol once that morning, and got an acute case of the jitters, which did not help me deal with the general sense of calamity. Tuesday, the whole library system was closed, so I mostly stayed in bed. So, I've been ok. I think the Benadryl and the Flovent kept the worst allergies/asthma at bay.
I finally got my schedule switched! No more six days in a row. I will now be off alternate Fridays, work alternate Saturdays, and in every Monday. I think that will work better for me and for work, as there are more meetings on Mondays than on Fridays. So that's my big new and good.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
still have a toehold
Great news--my toe shows no sign of infection! This may not seem incredible, but in February I had a hideous infection on the right foot. I started to think of it as the wrong foot. There is still some very minor wigginess at the sight of that infection--which I am happy to ignore. If Monday night's stupid injury can heal up nicely with no doctors or nurses involved, I will be one happy camper.
I say that, and immediately you should become suspicious. Her, happy? Really and truly, the toe thing, minor as it was, could represent a victory. I am still happy when my blood pressure scores normal. That took a bit of work last fall. I am also happy to have low cholesterol, no sign of diabetes, and a really healthy-looking liver according to an imaging tech. Hell, I'm still happy to have an explanation for my squiffy knee and the fatigue. Good things.
Here comes today's "but". I had an interview today for a position I am not sure I want. But I dusted off the resume and a suit, and worked on a very positive attitude. I thought I was pretty ok. Then they handed me a sheet on the qualifications that I had not received with the description. It said "must be able to lift 50 lbs. and push a book truck weighing over 200 lbs."
It shouldn't have hit me hard. I'd already considered that getting a new position would require another physical and medical clearance (it's outsourced, of course). But seeing those numbers in print was somehow a sucker punch. I know the whole schtick with getting a letter from my neurologist and requesting accommodation. But I went through all that grief with that other library system last fall. Even though they eventually offered me the job, it was grudgingly. So grudgingly that I said no. Let's face it, even though ADA says no one can discriminate on the basis of disability, no one wants an employee with MS. It's too big a wild card.
Part of me can still say, well, that's their stupidity. Part of me wants to prove them wrong desperately. I'm going to try to listen to the part that says I am going to keep doing my best. I really like my job and the people I work with. It's no hardship. My co-workers do not mind at all if I ask them to lift a box or push a book truck. Really, I am not paid a professional salary for my brawn, thank goodness. I'm going to concentrate on wisely using the resources I have to offer--and still celebrate my victories, even by a toe.
I say that, and immediately you should become suspicious. Her, happy? Really and truly, the toe thing, minor as it was, could represent a victory. I am still happy when my blood pressure scores normal. That took a bit of work last fall. I am also happy to have low cholesterol, no sign of diabetes, and a really healthy-looking liver according to an imaging tech. Hell, I'm still happy to have an explanation for my squiffy knee and the fatigue. Good things.
Here comes today's "but". I had an interview today for a position I am not sure I want. But I dusted off the resume and a suit, and worked on a very positive attitude. I thought I was pretty ok. Then they handed me a sheet on the qualifications that I had not received with the description. It said "must be able to lift 50 lbs. and push a book truck weighing over 200 lbs."
It shouldn't have hit me hard. I'd already considered that getting a new position would require another physical and medical clearance (it's outsourced, of course). But seeing those numbers in print was somehow a sucker punch. I know the whole schtick with getting a letter from my neurologist and requesting accommodation. But I went through all that grief with that other library system last fall. Even though they eventually offered me the job, it was grudgingly. So grudgingly that I said no. Let's face it, even though ADA says no one can discriminate on the basis of disability, no one wants an employee with MS. It's too big a wild card.
Part of me can still say, well, that's their stupidity. Part of me wants to prove them wrong desperately. I'm going to try to listen to the part that says I am going to keep doing my best. I really like my job and the people I work with. It's no hardship. My co-workers do not mind at all if I ask them to lift a box or push a book truck. Really, I am not paid a professional salary for my brawn, thank goodness. I'm going to concentrate on wisely using the resources I have to offer--and still celebrate my victories, even by a toe.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Ouch!
I stubbed my toe last night. Actually, I sliced a bit of flesh off. Much blood and stinging that way only toes sting when they are hurt. No big deal, just kind of the capper on a day I was severely overtired.
I slept through the night on Saturday. That is an unusual enough occurrence, that I actually celebrated. It was wonderful. A full night's sleep without hot flashes or muscle spasms. I have no idea what I did right, but I would love to do it again. I'm thinking one solid night a week and I could be a happy human.
Of course, Sunday night was a disaster. I doubt I got four hours. When I got up, it was obvious that my legs hadn't gotten the memo. But I soldiered on and went to work. I bumbled around there a bit. At one point, when I was weeding a high shelf, I decided I had to take a bathroom break. So I went into the bathroom and contemplated going home early. But, I had a shrink appointment scheduled for after work, and I didn't want to go home and then have to go back out to go to the shrink. So I did my best energizer bunny routine, but I doubt anyone thought I was 1) happy to be there 2) doing very good work.
I had to take a different route than usual route from work, as I needed to drop off materials at a neighboring branch. Then I did the classic California freeway thing of being in the wrong lane, and nearly got killed by an unchivalrous pick-up truck that did not want to let me in his lane. I was also driving into the setting sun, so that whole trip was fraught...My vision isn't that great to start. I am getting very nervous about it. Then on the way home from the shrink, I took the wrong exit. Oh, I forgot to mention that I missed my exit for work this morning. Only the second time I've done that. Tomorrow, I have to go to a meeting at Solana Beach in the morning--another great opportunity to get lost!
It may not seem that related to anything, but when I am fatigued (the MS kind--here comes a big fat quote):
So that's the kind of fatigue I was having yesterday--motor and sensory. Actually, I still haven't recovered from aquatics. I know that sounds crazy, but there have been so many times it's taken 6-8 weeks to heal up after an episode. I don't think I had a full-fledged MS attack from the aquatics, but I don't just recover from stuff. That was actually my primary symptom long before I was dianosed with MS.
Then I got home last night, did the breakfast dishes, and started dinner. When Matt got home, he was very grumbly about the bad day he'd had at work due to a co-worker's inconsideration. I grumbled back. We ate dinner, then I did the dishes to cut Matt some slack, even though I was having difficulty standing at the sink. I'm getting so used to fighting through the fatigue, that I don't listen to my body's signals. So, at bedtime, after emailing Em because I didn't hear from her at all this weekend, I stumbled in the kitchen and somehow sliced a piece off the middle toe of the right foot.
Much blood, as only a flesh wound can bleed. But it did stop. I took a hydrocodone, and slept ok, if drugged sleeping counts. I was scheduled to work 11:30-8 today. Before I took the hydrocodone, I had already decided that I would call in and just go in for the late night--4-8. So now I'm going to go back to bed for a bit. I'll pick up around the house, then shower and get a hair cut later...it will be ok.
Matt disapproved of me going in late, because I have a promotional interview tomorrow. I think it's important that I get more rest...I don't think he realizes how hard I've been pushing myself. It's that whole "but you look fine" thing. Oh, well. I am tired.
I slept through the night on Saturday. That is an unusual enough occurrence, that I actually celebrated. It was wonderful. A full night's sleep without hot flashes or muscle spasms. I have no idea what I did right, but I would love to do it again. I'm thinking one solid night a week and I could be a happy human.
Of course, Sunday night was a disaster. I doubt I got four hours. When I got up, it was obvious that my legs hadn't gotten the memo. But I soldiered on and went to work. I bumbled around there a bit. At one point, when I was weeding a high shelf, I decided I had to take a bathroom break. So I went into the bathroom and contemplated going home early. But, I had a shrink appointment scheduled for after work, and I didn't want to go home and then have to go back out to go to the shrink. So I did my best energizer bunny routine, but I doubt anyone thought I was 1) happy to be there 2) doing very good work.
I had to take a different route than usual route from work, as I needed to drop off materials at a neighboring branch. Then I did the classic California freeway thing of being in the wrong lane, and nearly got killed by an unchivalrous pick-up truck that did not want to let me in his lane. I was also driving into the setting sun, so that whole trip was fraught...My vision isn't that great to start. I am getting very nervous about it. Then on the way home from the shrink, I took the wrong exit. Oh, I forgot to mention that I missed my exit for work this morning. Only the second time I've done that. Tomorrow, I have to go to a meeting at Solana Beach in the morning--another great opportunity to get lost!
It may not seem that related to anything, but when I am fatigued (the MS kind--here comes a big fat quote):
Fatigue is a sensation that is both universal to all and very specific to people who have multiple sclerosis. The fatigue that all people experience is due to tiredness and weakness affecting muscles after exercises or exertion. In multiple sclerosis, that fatigue that many people have is rather different since the nervous system as well as the muscles are involved.
The cause of MS fatigue is not fully understood. What may happen is that great difficulty is experienced in the transmission of nerve impulses along demyelinated nerves. The strength of the impulses is much reduced, resulting in feelings of weakness and tiredness. Sensory nerves as well as motor nerves are involved in this kind of fatigue.
Fatigue of motor nerves can cause weakness, a tired heavy feeling of muscles, incoordination and shakiness. Fatigue of sensory nerves, which help us to see, to hear, to taste, to smell and enable us to distinguish how objects feel, can cause problems in one or more of these senses. When we are fatigued, we don't just experience a heaviness, but we may also have blurred vision, numbness, or other difficulties in the sensory system.
So that's the kind of fatigue I was having yesterday--motor and sensory. Actually, I still haven't recovered from aquatics. I know that sounds crazy, but there have been so many times it's taken 6-8 weeks to heal up after an episode. I don't think I had a full-fledged MS attack from the aquatics, but I don't just recover from stuff. That was actually my primary symptom long before I was dianosed with MS.
Then I got home last night, did the breakfast dishes, and started dinner. When Matt got home, he was very grumbly about the bad day he'd had at work due to a co-worker's inconsideration. I grumbled back. We ate dinner, then I did the dishes to cut Matt some slack, even though I was having difficulty standing at the sink. I'm getting so used to fighting through the fatigue, that I don't listen to my body's signals. So, at bedtime, after emailing Em because I didn't hear from her at all this weekend, I stumbled in the kitchen and somehow sliced a piece off the middle toe of the right foot.
Much blood, as only a flesh wound can bleed. But it did stop. I took a hydrocodone, and slept ok, if drugged sleeping counts. I was scheduled to work 11:30-8 today. Before I took the hydrocodone, I had already decided that I would call in and just go in for the late night--4-8. So now I'm going to go back to bed for a bit. I'll pick up around the house, then shower and get a hair cut later...it will be ok.
Matt disapproved of me going in late, because I have a promotional interview tomorrow. I think it's important that I get more rest...I don't think he realizes how hard I've been pushing myself. It's that whole "but you look fine" thing. Oh, well. I am tired.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Calcium blood tests results
bloods.
My level was 10.5, which is just over the borderline to high. It had tested that way twice, according to Dr. Grunwald, the Argentinian GI guy.
My level was 10.5, which is just over the borderline to high. It had tested that way twice, according to Dr. Grunwald, the Argentinian GI guy.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
yes, I know what a parathyroid is
Back to the GI doc. The biopsies were all negative. However, he was very concerned about my calcium levels. I old him I'd had a letter from my internist telling me to drink lots of water, and the I had cut down on the amount of calcium supplements I take.
He told me that those would not effect the amount of calcium in my blood. That is mediated by the parathyroids. I said ah, my parathyroids were damaged when my thyroid was removed in 1997, but they had regenerated. He said that they might be overcompensating, but it could cause kidney damage. He sent me for more blood tests. If the level is within normal range, I won't hear from him...
He told me that those would not effect the amount of calcium in my blood. That is mediated by the parathyroids. I said ah, my parathyroids were damaged when my thyroid was removed in 1997, but they had regenerated. He said that they might be overcompensating, but it could cause kidney damage. He sent me for more blood tests. If the level is within normal range, I won't hear from him...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
my legs hate me and other non-news
I can't really remember where I left off in my whining. I know I blogged about The Geriatric Aquatics Class That Killed Me. Its deadliness has continued. I stayed home and licked my wounds all Monday afternoon. I returned to work on Tues. a.m. My knee was still buckling a little, but I thought it would be ok. Around 10:30, i.e., half an hour after opening, the knee completely went out from under me. I was standing at the circ desk, doing a new card registration when I took a swan dive. One of my colleagues ran over and took over the transaction. I thanked her and hobbled into the break room. I took a break (in the morning--how novel!), then hobbled back to the reference desk. The operations manager was very concerned about my safety. I agreed I would leave when the other librarian arrived. I ended up leaving at 1:00.
I had already scheduled myself off on Wed. to do the prep for the colonoscopy on Thursday. So I went in and worked 9:15-12:15, taking care not to push the knee at all. it was still unhappy, and buckled when I squatted down to get books off a botton shelf, but I got through it ok.
Then it was off to Target to pick up the prep. I'd been trying to get it since Sat. It was non-formulary (i.e., not on the plan's approved list), like every other prescription I've gotten in the last two years. When I'm really so freaking healthy that I have nothing else to whine about, I will carry on and on and on about my prescription plan some day. They really do take the cake. They claim to cover just about everything; in reality, they refuse to cover almost everything. (But they do cover Copaxone, street price $20,000/year. So mustn't grumble.) So the pharmacist kept faxing the GI-man to see if she could substitute a similar prep that was soooo formulary as to not have a co-pay. But GI man never responded to her messages or mine, so I shelled out $57 for something I knew would give me the runs.
The prep was as unpleasant as imaginable. Of course, I didn't follow the clock at all--took four hours instead of one to start, then went on for 8 hours instead of one. This did not surprise me in the least. The procedure was scheduled for 1:30 p.m. I had a little Gatorade and a little water in the morning because I was getting very dehydrated. This really concerned the nurse who admitted me at first, but then when she tried to set up my IV, she couldn't get a vein because I was too dehydrated. So everything got delayed while I got poked by multiple nurses. Fourth attempt was finally successful, though I'll be wearing long sleeves for at least a week.
The colonoscopy was blessedly uneventful. No signs of anything, though they still did some small biopsies. I get to go back in three weeks for a consult. Oh boy!
I have again run out of time to work on this post. More gory stories about my gut to come.
I had already scheduled myself off on Wed. to do the prep for the colonoscopy on Thursday. So I went in and worked 9:15-12:15, taking care not to push the knee at all. it was still unhappy, and buckled when I squatted down to get books off a botton shelf, but I got through it ok.
Then it was off to Target to pick up the prep. I'd been trying to get it since Sat. It was non-formulary (i.e., not on the plan's approved list), like every other prescription I've gotten in the last two years. When I'm really so freaking healthy that I have nothing else to whine about, I will carry on and on and on about my prescription plan some day. They really do take the cake. They claim to cover just about everything; in reality, they refuse to cover almost everything. (But they do cover Copaxone, street price $20,000/year. So mustn't grumble.) So the pharmacist kept faxing the GI-man to see if she could substitute a similar prep that was soooo formulary as to not have a co-pay. But GI man never responded to her messages or mine, so I shelled out $57 for something I knew would give me the runs.
The prep was as unpleasant as imaginable. Of course, I didn't follow the clock at all--took four hours instead of one to start, then went on for 8 hours instead of one. This did not surprise me in the least. The procedure was scheduled for 1:30 p.m. I had a little Gatorade and a little water in the morning because I was getting very dehydrated. This really concerned the nurse who admitted me at first, but then when she tried to set up my IV, she couldn't get a vein because I was too dehydrated. So everything got delayed while I got poked by multiple nurses. Fourth attempt was finally successful, though I'll be wearing long sleeves for at least a week.
The colonoscopy was blessedly uneventful. No signs of anything, though they still did some small biopsies. I get to go back in three weeks for a consult. Oh boy!
I have again run out of time to work on this post. More gory stories about my gut to come.
Monday, September 17, 2007
one unhappy H2O hour
I finally went to the aquatics class recommended by the MS Society at my local Y this a.m. The plan was to attend every Wednesday and alternate Mondays. It's held 11:00-12:00, so it almost fits my schedule. I decided to start on a Monday, my day off for working on Saturday. So off I went this morning in my swimsuit, with lots sunscreen on, as its an outdoor pool. Turns out sunburn was the least of my worries.
When I arrived, there were already 10-12 old people in the pool doing warm ups. I got in the pool using a ladder, and found a spot towards the back of the group. The instructor, a late middle-aged woman in a floppy hat, called out to start grapevining. I wasn't sure what she meant. I couldn't see her legs, or most of the classes'. Some people were sort of twisting back and forth going across the pool. One of them said to me "It's like Greek folk dance." So I started doing step in front step behind, like a Bulgarian folk dance I learned in college. I noticed that about half the class was just sort of jogging in place and socializing.
The various moves kept changing. After 20 minutes, I felt wiped out. But I thought I could tough it out to at least the half hour. Most of the people in the class looked 70, with a smattering of 60-year olds. I thought I had to be able to keep up with them. The water was making it easier for me to do some things.
We moved on to jumping jacks. And frog kicks. Karate kicks. I started really failing. Te instructor told me not to try to keep up with the instructor, but to jog in place. At that point, jogging in place was harder than jumping jacks. Finally, we did some stretching at the side of the pool. It was sort of thrilling that I could do something like a rond du jamb, sort of.
So I made it through the hour. But I could barely get out of the pool. Fortunately, there was a ramp for wheelchairs to go into the pool, so I could hold on to that railing on my way out. My left leg just crumpled. I had to sit in a chair next to the pool for 15 minutes before I could walk as far as my bag and cane. The instructor came over and asked if I was ok. I didn't know what to say. I told her I had MS. She said I did really well, but that I should come to the deep water class on Tues. and Thurs. That would be better for balance. I told her that I worked, and that wouldn't fit my schedule. Then she said there is an evening class at 6:00. I said that wouldn't fit my schedule either. (As always, I want to growl about people assuming middle class folk work 9-5. But I digress.)
I managed to haul myself into the dressing room. One of the other "students" went off on a long rant about tree-huggers and wild fire and development. She seemed angry with me, but I didn't know why. (Much later, I realized it was my NRDC tote bag that set her off. So what?)) I was trying to change my clothes without falling. My plan was to stop at Target on the way home and pick up an Rx along with some cleaning products.
When I got up from the bench to navigate my way out of the Y, I realized that plan might be a bad idea. My knee was buckling every other step. So I teetered to the car, leaning heavily on the cane. There I sat. I decided to come home, eat something, rest a bit and regroup. Then I'd feel better. Another good plan.
I dissolved in tears when I got home. I was weak and battered and everything seemed too much. I called my EAP, which I had been considering for ages. They are working on a referral for me, but they haven't called back.
Twelve hours later, and I can stand briefly. Most of me aches. Maybe more Ibuprofen before bed? I don't think I'll be able to work tomorrow. Maybe just the morning? I should have quit class after half an hour. All of that jumping and jogging, though extremely low impact, were more physical activity that I've had in eons. I think my mother is fitter than I am. I'm not sure I can go back, or if I should.
When I arrived, there were already 10-12 old people in the pool doing warm ups. I got in the pool using a ladder, and found a spot towards the back of the group. The instructor, a late middle-aged woman in a floppy hat, called out to start grapevining. I wasn't sure what she meant. I couldn't see her legs, or most of the classes'. Some people were sort of twisting back and forth going across the pool. One of them said to me "It's like Greek folk dance." So I started doing step in front step behind, like a Bulgarian folk dance I learned in college. I noticed that about half the class was just sort of jogging in place and socializing.
The various moves kept changing. After 20 minutes, I felt wiped out. But I thought I could tough it out to at least the half hour. Most of the people in the class looked 70, with a smattering of 60-year olds. I thought I had to be able to keep up with them. The water was making it easier for me to do some things.
We moved on to jumping jacks. And frog kicks. Karate kicks. I started really failing. Te instructor told me not to try to keep up with the instructor, but to jog in place. At that point, jogging in place was harder than jumping jacks. Finally, we did some stretching at the side of the pool. It was sort of thrilling that I could do something like a rond du jamb, sort of.
So I made it through the hour. But I could barely get out of the pool. Fortunately, there was a ramp for wheelchairs to go into the pool, so I could hold on to that railing on my way out. My left leg just crumpled. I had to sit in a chair next to the pool for 15 minutes before I could walk as far as my bag and cane. The instructor came over and asked if I was ok. I didn't know what to say. I told her I had MS. She said I did really well, but that I should come to the deep water class on Tues. and Thurs. That would be better for balance. I told her that I worked, and that wouldn't fit my schedule. Then she said there is an evening class at 6:00. I said that wouldn't fit my schedule either. (As always, I want to growl about people assuming middle class folk work 9-5. But I digress.)
I managed to haul myself into the dressing room. One of the other "students" went off on a long rant about tree-huggers and wild fire and development. She seemed angry with me, but I didn't know why. (Much later, I realized it was my NRDC tote bag that set her off. So what?)) I was trying to change my clothes without falling. My plan was to stop at Target on the way home and pick up an Rx along with some cleaning products.
When I got up from the bench to navigate my way out of the Y, I realized that plan might be a bad idea. My knee was buckling every other step. So I teetered to the car, leaning heavily on the cane. There I sat. I decided to come home, eat something, rest a bit and regroup. Then I'd feel better. Another good plan.
I dissolved in tears when I got home. I was weak and battered and everything seemed too much. I called my EAP, which I had been considering for ages. They are working on a referral for me, but they haven't called back.
Twelve hours later, and I can stand briefly. Most of me aches. Maybe more Ibuprofen before bed? I don't think I'll be able to work tomorrow. Maybe just the morning? I should have quit class after half an hour. All of that jumping and jogging, though extremely low impact, were more physical activity that I've had in eons. I think my mother is fitter than I am. I'm not sure I can go back, or if I should.
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