Get It Together Doctors

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One of the bad days.

I have become a member of an online Facebook group for fibromyalgia sufferers. I started exploring the different avenues for support for people with fibro. We don’t have a support group in the Philadelphia area that I could find. I wanted to be around other people who know what I am going through. I was hoping that I would feel less alone on those days that I am in pain and can’t leave the house. I also was hoping to learn what those women and men who deal with fibromyalgia on a day to day basis did to ease their symptoms. I was looking for comraderie, sisters in arms, people fighting a fight together. That isn’t really what I found, yet.

Sometimes these chats seem like only people who are suffering together. They are encouraging, sympathetic, and lovely. We are all suffering. The thing about fibro is that we’d have a pretty pitiful march if we were going to battle. Most of us can’t walk very far at all. Most of us are in constant pain and feel nauseous and feverish. We feel like we are hung over AND have the flu. It’s not like we can usually muster up a rallying cry. It would come out like a sigh more likely. But I am still looking for a way to cope.

I’m not ready to be couch bound. I want to walk for hours-down streets I’ve never seen. I want to be able to fly without pain. I want to be able to do yoga for an hour without taking a two day break to recover, because Philly has free yoga on the pier. To do yoga by the water would be a dream.

I am not ready to give up on those dreams. I need to continually feel like I can do it. I need to know in my brain that it is possible for these things to happen someday-even if it is not true. I need to be able to strive for it. If I believed that it wasn’t possible I would probably curl up in a ball and give up. I desperately and deeply need the motivation.

I guess I am looking for someone to say this is working for me, you can too. Isn’t that such bullshit? No one is going to give me a get well quick story. This isn’t that kind of syndrome. Fibro is forever. I get that. They say that you can live with it. What exactly that looks like isn’t really clear. From the testimonies on so many fibro sites it seems dreary and hopeless. Most of my fibro sisters have spouses that don’t care enough to find out about their wives’ condition so they complain about their inability to perform tasks, their inevitable weight gain and they belittle the pain they’re in. Most of them have kids who are ungrateful, and employers that could care less. It is a sea of harshness in a world of people who should be treated with kid gloves. These people are in pain constantly, who still have to perform their lives, AND try to figure out how to medicate themselves.

Think about your mother. Everyone in the world who had a good mom, think about that mom. What if she had fibromyalgia. She would have never had time to figure out how to make her life easier. Most moms don’t have time to get their nails done or catch their own movie, less known go to physical therapy or read a book on fibromyalgia.  Fibromyalgia is predominantly a female syndrome so females are too busy building families and running the f*&Oing world to treat themselves to all the doctor’s appointments, or go to physical therapy twice a week, or a trigger therapy masseuse. I am extremely lucky; my partner is the most remarkable partner in the world. He is seriously amazing. Most women don’t have my privilege or my support.

I don’t work right now. It’s my turn to be at home because I worked while Brad went to school. So, I get to follow my dreams now. Part of that dream is to get healthy. I am working on that full time while also trying to get my writing going. It is unusual that any woman has the time I do to do the research, go to doctors and physical therapy, schedule workouts, meal plans, and supplements. Right now, I am extremely lucky for a fibromyalgia sufferer.

It is easy for me to have spunk. It is easier for me to get riled up, throw my fist in the air and say, “I will figure this out. I’m gonna live a good life!”

The big problem is that fibromyalgia has been around in some form since 1904 according to a government web site. They knew about it since then, but didn’t do an official study until 1981. The AMA didn’t recognize it until 1987. Do you think that it is a coincidence it took so long to get acknowledged on a disease that mostly affects women?

So, the medical community hasn’t done that great for these women. Most doctors don’t really give these patients a lot of options. I’ve been going to the doctors and physical therapists for over a year and it wasn’t until I picked up a book by Dr. Ginerva Liptan called The Fibromanual that I found out some information that is really helping me. No one else has explained the disease to me so clearly or why I need to do the things I do. Of course, The Fibromanual was written by a woman who also has fibromyalgia. That is how we get things done, right?

I’ve only been following her advice for two weeks and already I feel a little better. See these chats I have been observing on Facebook and other support group web sites only make me mad. It is another way that women are neglected in this society. I can forgive their partners for not knowing what fibromyalgia is, because I am still figuring it out and I am a dogged opponent even without a medical degree. I can forgive kids for being little ungrateful shits, because that’s what they are supposed to be, but I can not forgive doctors who get paid more than most of the population for not taking enough time to truly give these women relief. I recommend every doctor who has a general practice to read The Fibromanual and other books. Give the women who are sixty percent of the work force, and seventy percent of the home care, some attention please. Give them a fighting chance to get out of bed without pain.

To all my fellow sufferers,

I know your life is busy. I know sometimes this seems hopeless. It sucks. I feel it everyday. There is hope. Read up as much as you can and press your doctor to read up too. It is there job. Don’t let them get away with not knowing how to help you. That sucks. My first book recommendation is The Fibromanual. It even has a section you can hand your doctor. Know your body, and know that there is some relief out there. Try if you can to prioritize your health for a little while so that you can get a system down that will provide you with happy pain free days. Get help. The people that love you will realize you are worth the time you need to figure it out.

Danielle

Self-conscious about Selfcare

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I have learned something very important lately. There is a value in what some people might call “selfishness.” I don’t advocate loving yourself above the love of others. I would just advocate taking care of your mind and body so that you can help others more consistently and powerfully. I grew up in a Christian household in a bible belt state. There is a stigma against anything that could be considered “selfish” especially for women. Mothers are supposed to give up all for their families. This is an underlying rule. This is something ingrained in every woman. Women and especially mom’s sacrifice. They’re the ones who cook, clean, and the last ones to eat dinner. Last Thanksgiving, I was home I watched most of the mothers be the last ones to get dinner and then they stood around eating it because there were no more chairs left. Why is it always the women left standing? This is just one example of many I saw growing up that said being a mother/woman meant being selfless, wanting less than. It’s not just the Midwest, I’ve read that families where both parents work across the US women still do seventy percent of the house work. I don’t think it is just my Midwestern roots cleaning their way into heaven.

When I quit my job to move to Philly because husband got a new job, we decided that I would pursue my writing and try to build a career. Two things happened that made that a difficult venture. First, my health went wonky. The pain I had been dealing with got steadily worse, as documented on this blog. Second, I got too caught up in taking care of my house. That sounds silly doesn’t it, but it’s true. With fibromyalgia I only get so many “spoons” of energy to do things. I would get up make breakfast, and then clean something draining all my spoons and then have no energy to do anything else. It was ridiculous how long this went on. I would clean like a mad woman and inflame my fibro and then maybe be out of commission for a few days. I was getting less and less done. Sadly with fibro, I have had no choice but to be “selfish.”

My mom says the bible doesn’t advocate selfishness, but I venture that the bible doesn’t say anything about cleaning your house, doing laundry, or being the last one to eat Thanksgiving dinner. It does tell us that we should take care of our bodies like a temple because the holy spirit resides there (paraphrasing.) This has been my new goal, my new focus. It is hard, years of ingrained guilt is hard to buck but I am doing it.

I kept reading about women in the wellness industry who put their health first. There was a reoccurring theme on the website well+good.com where women explain their daily morning rituals. https://www.wellandgood.com/tag/my-morning-routine/   These women are yoga instructors, nutritionists, and healthcare gurus. They are also wives and mothers. I was always reading what they do every morning, their indulgent rituals, and feeling extremely jealous. They usually start their day with hot lemon water, yoga or some other exercise, cuddles and conversation. They also usually do something else indulgent like art, journaling, or hanging out in the park. It seemed to me they had a relaxing Saturday before their work day. All of these women make an insane amount of money, claim to feel good and satisfied every day. Those aren’t the only signs of success but I still couldn’t see how they were doing it. So, emboldened by these articles, I decided to put my health first.

Does that just mean exercising? Shouldn’t health also include my mind and soul? Instead of cleaning first thing in the morning, I am doing my yoga, meditation and prayer, and then I am writing. Afterwards I am getting what cleaning I can done before starting dinner. Even then, sometimes if I clean enough I am taking a little hot tea break mid-afternoon. By doing this, giving to my soul and mind, I am getting more done than ever before.  Another product of my Midwestern upbringing, I like being useful. When I accomplish things, it helps my self-esteem. This is probably one of the traits that makes me the proudest of my heritage. While my productivity really makes me feel good about my new plan, it’s not the only thing. I feel better. I am getting my yoga in, and my quiet time and my writing which is something that has always made me feel whole. I am doing that corny thing they always talk about: filling my cup before helping someone else. I am putting my oxygen mask on before putting one on anyone else.

You know who is happiest with my new plan? My husband. I am making dinner every night. The house is more consistently clean. I am in a good mood. I may actually make money on my writing someday if I can keep up with this consistency. This “selfishness” turns out not to be so selfish, and maybe it could pay off even further in the future.

Losing the Incessant Weight Loss Narrative

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Sweating even before physical therapy!

I met with my physical therapist this week and was bragging to her about doing my stomach and hip exercises and actually asked for more. Can you believe I asked for more exercise? I used to hate exercise. I actually asked her for more. She told me no. She said to stay at this level for another month. She doesn’t want me to do too much too fast. With fibromyalgia, you have to work out at low impact and build up slowly. So, I can’t add exercises willy-nilly. I have to be methodical.

But I was pumped, man! She put me on the exercise bike and I was bragging about how well I am doing. I love physical therapy and I love yoga. I have been doing so well. I am forty-one and for the first time in my life I have an exercise habit. A habit.

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More sweating, out and about

The amazing part is that it’s working. I haven’t lost weight. This isn’t that blog. I’ve never in my adult life seriously put effort into losing weight. I was told over and over that I needed to lose weight for my health. I was told over and over exercise will help me lose weight. That really didn’t resonate with me because I’ve always been fabulous even plus size. I’ve seen people lose weight, it takes over their whole life and in my experience, they always gain the weight back. Somewhere in the back of my mind that always seemed fruitless.

So here I am on this exercise bike telling my physical therapist how wonderful I’m doing, like a five-year-old explaining stuff to her momma. With just six months of these exercises I have not only gotten the pain down to a measly two or three days of my cycle, I’ve also fixed my knee and can walk upstairs normally. I am freaking wolverine! I have healed myself in six freaking months. That, my friends, is astounding. I am not just being hyperbolic because I was in so much pain that I thought my life was officially a deep pit of despair.

While I am sweating on the bike talking about how awesome it is, the conversation turns (like it usually does) to how I wish I had known how all this worked before. Then I talked myself into being frustrated again. Why did I not know that this would be so easy to get the other, I feel more important, benefits of exercise.

People can’t stop talking about losing weight. Lose weight for better health. Exercise to lose weight. Oh my goodness people can’t shut up about it. In magazines, books, newspapers, on TV, in school, at home, all I have ever heard about exercise is that it helps you lose weight and it’s good for your health. That’s great but extremely, excruciatingly vague.

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Sweating while fabulous

You know what happens when I read? I learn something. It is a very specific something. If I read a book about snakes I learn about snakes.  For the fast six months, I have been walking a mile – two maybe three times a week depending on my fibromyalgia and every day I have been doing warrior pose. In just six months, I have healed a knee that has been unable to do stairs for years. The only reason I have found this out is because I had to start exercising to fix my pelvic pain. So doing these things, these small exercises fixed my knee. Do this specific exercise to strengthen where you are weak and in this much time you will have this capability? I don’t know the specifics but I am sure athletic people and physical therapists do.

Why don’t we talk more about capability based goals? Why aren’t we talking about how easy it is to build up muscle. I feel like this physical therapy is voodoo it’s so amazing. I have followed my therapist’s instruction religiously, and that is the reason it is working. It is small things. I haven’t been doing super aerobics. I am not working out two hours a day or anything. I’m not running up stadium bleachers to Chariots of Fire, or running down the road pulling an old man to Eye of the Tiger. I am just walking and doing light yoga.

Our body is an amazing thing. As a child, my ankles always turned me off exercise. Even now I have to worry about turning them if I don’t concentrate. I am working on them with my yoga. I am working on my arches too because I have some super flat feet. As a child, if I complained about my ankles I was told I was just lazy. As a chubby little fourth grader that is all people saw in me. What if someone had saw a little girl with bad ankles and taught me how to strengthen them? Could I have become that BMX trick biker I wanted to be? Probably not, but at least I might have had a regular exercise practice all these years.

If we worried more about our bodies capabilities than what they looked like on the outside, maybe someone would have helped me with my ankles. I’m not abdicating guilt in my weight. I am just saying that now that I know what I can do, I have been working very hard for the first time in my life. If it hadn’t always been about my weight, if it hadn’t always seemed so insurmountable, perhaps I could have started this earlier. Maybe I would love other types of exercise besides yoga and swimming, or maybe not. I just think this is another reason why the weight issue needs to be discussed differently.

Can Fibro be funny?

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It is really cold here. I have to bundle up to go to the Physical Therapists office.

This morning I was heading out to the physical therapist’s office for my noon appointment when I got a phone call. I had already done the necessary checklist: appliances turned off, clothes in their proper places, face made up, hair done, keys, vapes, phone etc. I double checked all of those things because my brain was feeling asleep. You know that feeling where you haven’t gotten enough sleep or you haven’t eaten? When you have fibromyalgia, they call it fibro fog and it can happen even after eight hours and a full protein filled breakfast. So, it’s sort of random.

Then I got the phone call. While talking to this person I closed up the apartment and walked to the elevator. When we got off the phone I ran back to the door and checked. I hadn’t locked the apartment door. I locked it and then walked two blocks to the bus stop. As I was walking up, I panicked. I thought Did I bring the bus tokens? I walked quickly to the bus and took off my backpack and put it on the bench to search. As I removed it, I noticed my shoulder felt weird. I reached up and there was a zip lock baggie underneath my bra strap.

Okay I know that sounds weird, like I was rolling on a bed of zippies and one just got stuck, but no. I have an icepack that started leaking so we put it in two ziplock bags. I stick it under my bra strap because my shoulder swells up for no reason. So I have to put on an icepack every morning. I asked my doc about it, they have no idea. So I took off the ziplock and found the tokens in my book bag. I have no clue how they got in there. I mean I must of put them there but I don’t remember. I sighed in relief and slumped down to wait for the bus, but I couldn’t remember which one so I asked the next two buses, “Do you go to thirty seventh?” Finally one guys said, “No you want the twenty one.” After I was on the bus I remembered I could have just looked it up on my phone and I was going to thirty eighth.

Just as I was coming to this revelation, husband texted me, “Did you eat?” I said, “Ummmm….no…I forgot.” Then I was thinking, dang it, I wasn’t hungry until he said something, but my appointment was at noon so I had no time to get anything.

I reached my appointment desk and said, “I have an appointment with Melody. My name is Danielle Toone.”

She replied, “Her name is Melinda, right?”

I said, “Yeah, what did I say?”

“Melody.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Also, your appointment is at 1:00.”

Once I was down in the restaurant sitting at the table free from any more decisions I thought about the fact that before fibro I would have beaten myself up for days about all of these mistakes. I just thought I was ditsy. Nope, I just have episodes of dits, do to that fickle bitch fibro. Don’t get me wrong Melinda has been the most amazing medical professional to me so I feel bad about messing up her name, but I know why it happened and it’s a relief. I’m not mean spirited or an idiot. That is a relief. Sometimes I can make people laugh with my stories and that is fun too (comic relief.)

I am just now getting into fibromyalgia social media to notice the influx of other people who suffer from this phenomenon. I am an intelligent women who is struck with momentary loss of brain. That’s all. It is horribly inconvenient, and mildly embarrassing, but at least I know what to call it and it’s only temporary. I think we should call it #fibrofunny instead of #fibrofog. I much more prefer to think of it as something that doesn’t change me. Fibro fog sounds like something that is debilitating and blinding. I want to be able to say Well this just happens and laugh it off. So, I have fibro funnies. That’s it. Then the next day, or even later that day I am back to be the smart, sexy friend you know and love.

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If I knew anything about street artists, I would tell you who did this, but I love it.

 

The Monster In My Pants

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After the tears I just had to get out of the house.

I’ve been thinking about freedom recently because of the new president, this town which is the birthplace of freedom, and my continual grasp for freedom. I don’t mean the rights that are in danger right now in this country: like free press, freedom of religion or gay marriage. I mean the freedom of movement. I am desperately clinging to my freedom to leave the house when I want.

I feel like I should explain what’s going on with me because I am not exactly clear on what’s wrong so I have refrained from writing too many specifics. Something is wrong in my crotch. They don’t know what it is. My gynecologist has said it isn’t a feminine problem, but the other two doctors I see aren’t so sure. Second and third opinions are forthcoming. What we know for sure is the fibroids aren’t causing this pain, and it’s not endometriosis. So we are clueless as to what is causing my pain. I have had relief but only when I am not premenstrual or menstrual or for two days after. This relief between my cycles comes from the physical therapy and yoga I am doing. Around my period though it is as if someone is stabbing me right above my hip. Add this to my hormone fluctuations and my fibromyalgia and life is really shit when Aunt Irma visits. I have been entertaining this pain for about five days so I hadn’t left my house until yesterday to physical therapy, and I didn’t want to go to that either because of the pain.

My lovely therapist tried to massage and move the pain away to no avail. The examination turned into a consultation with another therapist to sadly no answers. There was just too much poking. It really is too much. I am sore today from the movement and the examination. My physical therapist is amazing because she has brought so much relief. I believe she will find an answer for me, because she is that good. However, these exams are really embarrassing and tiring. It is almost like getting a pap smear once a week. I am emotionally exhausted too. I am tired of hoping that there will be an end to this pain, when none is coming.

After my exam I was so depressed that there still wasn’t an answer for the swelling and the pain. I sat on the metal chairs outside this building full of doctor’s offices watching people with wheel chairs get dropped off and picked up feeling sorry for myself. I was full-on sobbing and vaping. Like…seriously… I stopped when a particularly sad looking fellow limped by with a foot cast on and he was wearing a robe. His face was a stone. The look of despair in his eyes was shocking. When I saw that my messed up brain said Poor guy, I should tell him it will get better.

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Beauty sometimes makes it better

Yeah, you see the irony. I mean what would this man have said if I had told him it will get better while crying. I wiped my eyes and started to leave and then it was like an alarm went off in my head that said, “Don’t go home.” So I took off walking. I walked over to Penn campus to check out all the beautiful brick buildings. I sat in front of the Starbucks watching people until I started to realize that all these kids had potential. When that made me feel pity for myself, I got up and kept walking. I walked to the river and stood there for a while looking at the train station and the river feeling lucky for the first time that day. I took a picture to show my family. We play “Where is Aunt Danielle Today?!” They are in Enid, Oklahoma and I like to show them all the landmarks of Philadelphia. In turn, I get pics of my smiling nephew. I get the better end of the stick for sure.

I finally decided to go home then. I guess I just didn’t want to go home and cry. I was tired of being home. I waited at a mall food court until my husband got off work.

I think my new tactic is to stay out of my house as much as possible. I am a vibrant person. I need human interaction. When my first instinct is to be easy on my body, I need to rebel against that because my body and my mind needs movement and excitement.

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Can I make this my new desk?

I am at a coffee shop today. I am looking out the window in Old city watching people walk by. I figured if it worked yesterday maybe it would work today. I will just stay out of the house as much as possible. I want to build memories of this city. I want to declare and take advantage of my freedom even if it hurts. I am leaving the house even when I am in pain. I am done hiding my pain in the dark. If I have to sit for a while or wince openly then I guess people will just have to deal.

I will just stay out until I create a memory. Tonight I am meeting a friend for dinner. Let’s see how that goes.

 

 

 

The Best I Can Do

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Making Physical Therapy fun: I wanted the fake people to look like Star Trek characters. Is that Captain Kirk at the bottom? Why yes it is! 

Mom exercises every day. She’d wake up hurting and get ready to do her exercises. I thought she was crazy for years. Who thinks, Oh, I am in pain, I think I’ll exercise. It goes against all the logic I’d ever known. When you’re sick you lay in bed, right?  I’d say, “If you hurt why are you doing exercise?”  She would reply, “I have to exercise this morning or it will hurt more later.”

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My Momma: my eternal fitness hero

I didn’t really understand what she meant until I too developed Fibromyalgia. Now I am amazed at her resolve. Seriously. That woman is made of steel. The first couple years of Fibro kicked my ass. Waking up in pain is a buzz kill. Your whole day can be tainted. Waking up with fibromyalgia is like someone beat you with a baseball bat the night before and then you drank a liter of rum. Every morning you are sore and hung over. Mom woke up in that fog every day strapped on an exercise bra and just got to work. I bitch and wine like nobody’s business.

It seems like a weird idea, right? Think about waking up with the flu and being told the cure is exercise. Um…yeah, wouldn’t you think that’s bullshit? No, you would retreat to bed and not wake up until it ended. The sick part is, it never ends. You will wake up every day with the flu, and the only way to have the rest of the day is to exercise through it. Then the next day, start all over again.

When Mom told me she had to exercise I thought she was crazy. I didn’t understand then, what I know now: with Fibromyalgia exercise is essential. I told the doctor that I felt like a piece of machinery that rusts when it sleeps or sits too long. If I don’t stretch and move my joints, then I am in pain all day. It’s like I am lubing my muscles and joints. Once I have done that, then I can move onto my day.

My physical therapist, Melinda Gross, said that with Fibromyalgia you have to challenge the body regularly with controlled “stressors” in the form of exercise because it increases the body’s tolerance. So I have to increase walking, yoga, chores, strengthening exercise because it increases my baseline threshold for pain and stress.

Did anyone else’s dad ever make that joke? You know the one after you’ve been complaining your head hurts, and Dad offers to step on your toe to make your head hurt less. Turns out, that’s kind of a thing.

In other words, I have to put my body through a small amount of pain so that I am not in greater pain later. Also, if I put my body through more pain then what I have built up then I am in serious pain for days. So, I have to measure my activity every day. Once I painted a hutch and for the next three days the couch was my best friend.

When I think about it too closely, I get angry that I didn’t figure this out sooner. It is also very hard not to be angry that I can’t just wake up and be fine like a normal person. I get depressed at my pained muscles and stiff joints. It is easier to stay in bed. It is easier not to go to my twice a week doctor’s appointments. It would be easier if I could just take some pills to make the pain easier and just dribble into my pillow.

I was not happy when that’s all I could do, but it didn’t require much strength of will or physical strength. It was easier, but I wasn’t happy. My loved ones deserve much better than that, and so do I.

When I think about just sitting and sulking on the couch or skipping my doctor’s appointments I think about my husband. I am lucky, because he is the most patient and loving man. He is there every day telling me it is okay I am in pain and it isn’t my fault. He is my strength when I don’t have any. He deserves to have a wife that feels good about herself. I concentrate on that love when I am trying to get up to start my day. I concentrate on the love that I feel for my family and my friends. I concentrate on the fact that I want to soak up moments with them. If I am in pain, I will just be thinking about the pain.

I’m not perfect every day. I still have days it takes me a while to pull my head out of my ass and get moving. I was lamenting the fact that it takes me almost an hour and a half of exercising and icing to get me to feel normal/good. I did an unofficial Facebook poll of my friends and some of them exercise two hours a day. These are people I assume don’t have fibromyalgia, or any of my other health problems. So, I am not alone. They too use exercise to feel like themselves. I just have a large cattle prod getting me to the yoga mat.

Sadly, some days it still isn’t enough, but I am getting there one yoga work out at a time.

“You are…fat?”

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“You are…fat??” she said with trepidation. I replied, “Yes, yes I am,” as calmly as I could muster. This new student at my ESL class seemed to be thinking of the right words after she witnessed me taking my blood sugar. Following that horrifying moment, another student made me proud by knowing enough English to scold her, “We no say fat. We say unhealthy.” Right after I got distracted by other students asking questions about how to say something or other. I think it might have been intentional. My students are some of the most polite humans I have ever met. I don’t know this student at all because she was new. I don’t even remember her name, but I can bet she didn’t mean to insult me. I would wager she was actually concerned about me.

I am usually like Teflon when it comes to this stuff. I sizzle when it happens but then it slides right off. I usually bristle back at the asshole who thought he could comment on my health or most likely appearance, but this wasn’t an asshole. I have to say I ruminated on it all day, and four days later still thinking about it. I keep seeing her confused face, and hear her say it over and over, “You are…fat?”

I probably would have shrugged it off but I had a horrible health week. I found out I have kidney damage. My A1C was 6.5 which is barely diabetic but that puts me back in medicine territory. I told her I didn’t want to take meds because I am trying to do things more holistically and that is when the doctor told me I have kidney damage. That’s another phrase that’s been going around in my head, “KIDNEY DAMAGE.” She later called it “low grade kidney disease.”

So for those keeping score, I now have fibromyalgia, PCOS, fibroids, adenomyosis, pelvic inflammation, diabetes, and now KIDNEY DISEASE! I know she said low grade, but seriously kidney disease doesn’t sound good. I’ve been researching it and it isn’t. I can’t make this better. I can never make this better. I can’t heal my kidneys. The damage is done. This isn’t a car, it’s my body. It’s not like I lost that new car smell. I lost part of my kidney function. This is bullshit.

There are two reasons this could have happened to me – my high blood sugar, and my excessive Aleve use. Because of the pain, I have to take sometimes four Aleve a day. Now I have to stop all Aleve which so far has been the only thing keeping me sane during times of pain (other than yoga.) I also have to take some diabetic pills and I have to monitor my blood sugar closely again.

So basically I’ve damaged a part of my body, I can’t repair it, and it’s only going to get worse unless I seriously turn it around. Which should be so easy right? Since, I’ve done it before. Okay…so I haven’t done it ever. So this week has felt pretty hopeless.

After yoga yesterday I just thought. I can only do what I can do. Ya know?

Have you received bad health news in the past? How did you deal with it?