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Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts

Friday, November 22, 2013

Stress + Fibro = Disaster


As you can see from the photo above, a ton of the symptoms of stress overlap symptoms of Fibromyalgia.  Therefore, when one gets overly stressed, a person is hit doubly hard with these symptoms.  Let me just tell you how true this rings!

I'm an only child, and I'm extremely close to my parents.  My mom turned 70 years old March 25th of this year, although you'd never know it by looking at her, talking to her, or watching her walk around.  This woman puts me to shame in how fast and effortlessly she walks, and how she works!  Her biggest complaint had been back pain.  She'd tried various treatments and none helped so elected to have surgery.

I'm not going to lie, surgery scares the beejeezus out of me.  When it came to my 70yr old mom, it really scared me!  Yes, she had been in fairly good health, but she was 70!  Factor in that the surgery was supposed to take around 4 hours and I really didn't like the idea.  

They were going to remove her L2-5 and put fake ones in, or something.  I really don't remember how/what they were doing once they took those out.  They were going to give her a lovely dose of Propofol, then position her on her side.  They were making two incisions and going in first through the bottom of her ribs.  Once done, they were going to flip her over to her stomach, and make an incision in her back to finish up.  They said she'd be inpatient for a couple of days, then come home.

I had such a bad feeling about this surgery.  No, make that a horrible feeling of dread concerning this surgery.  I normally don't say anything about other people's choice of health care, but I actually begged her on a couple different occassions to not have it done.  I told her at her age, just to eat pain pills every 6 hours if she had to, but to please cancel the surgery.

When it became clear that the surgery was going to be a go despite my best efforts, I just kept telling myself that I was being silly.  That I was being irrational and allowing my own fears to cloud my better judgement.  I kept telling myself she'd be fine.   She kept telling me that she'd be fine.

Here's a picture of her taken at my house on Oct. 22nd, exactly one week before she was to have the surgery.  *Please ignore my back wall that needs the drywall replaced - but feel free to oogle over my beautiful granddaughter that my mom was snuggling!*


I was insistant that I be at the hospital during her surgery.  She had to be there by 6am, so I spent the night before with them at their house.  I was so nervous and worried about the surgery that I couldn't sleep that night.  Not with taking a Zanaflex and an Ambien.  It just wasn't happening.  I tossed, and I turned, and I tossed some more.  The last time I looked at the clock it was 3:45am.  Sometime right after that I must have just dozed off, because the next thing I knew my mom was saying "Amy, it's time to get up".  I looked at the clock and it was 4:05am.  

My dad and I was sitting with my mom in pre-op, waiting on her to go to surgery.  When her surgeon came in, he changed the length of time the surgery would take and now said it should only take around 3.5 hours, that 4 hours would be the very longest.  I really liked her surgeon.  The first impression was a good one.  I guessed him to be around 35-40, and he just immediately instilled a trust into me.

They took mom to surgery, and dad and I headed for the surgery waiting room.  We checked in and got our little buzzer (it looked and worked like the ones they hand out at Outback and other similiar restaurants).  We were told that when it went off, we were to come to the desk and they'd tell us where to meet the doctor for a post-op conference.  Then, we were to go back to the waiting room and when it buzzed again it would mean that she was out of recovery and in her room. We'd turn it in to the desk and they'd give us moms room number.  

I had a some-what sense of peace.  I finally felt like this all would be ok.  As the time reached nearer the 3.5 hour mark, I started getting antsier.  At 4 hours, I was really starting to feel nervous and stressed.  At 4.5 hours, dad and I were commenting wondering why it was taking so long.  About that time, the buzzer wen toff and I felt so relieved!  We hustled up to the desk, and the volunteer said "you have a phone call".  My heart sank!  I looked at my dad, and he said "You talk.  I don't understand medical stuff the way you do", so I took the phone.  It was a nurse who said she was in the OR with my mom and that it was taking longer than expected but they were just finishing up then had to close.  She said mom was doing great though! Once again, I literally felt the tension whoosh out of me.  

When we finally had our post-op conference with the doctor, he said that she had done great!  He said the extra time was because he had a really hard time getting in through her ribs and that she was really going to be in a lot of pain from it.  He said she'd be in recovery for about an hour, then taken to a room.  My dad and him joked a little, then we went back to the waiting room.

Two hours later, we finally got the buzz that she was in her room.  I was SO happy as we made our way upstairs.  We walked into her room, and I felt so sorry for her.  Her face was so completely swollen and red.  I was relieved though, that she'd made it through the surgery with strong vitals.  She was pretty out of it, but had a tray of clear liquids.  I fed her and she actually ate pretty good.  The next day, she walked the hall twice, and sat up in a chair for about an hour or so, visiting with a lady from her church, and her pastor.  She was supposed to come home the next afternoon.  Thursday.  

My dad wanted me to spend Wednesday night at his house, so I'd there to help him get mom up the steps and into the house when she came home the next day.  Then, I was going to stay a few days to help take care of her and the house.  He got up around 8am Thursday morning, and showered.  He was sitting at the kitchen table getting ready to take his insulin shot, and I was sitting in the living room drinking a cup of coffee.  The phone rang.  It was 8:40am.  It was the hospital.  They said that my mom "had taken a turn for the worse, and was just moved to ICU".  What?!  Are you kidding me?!  She was supposed to be coming home ...why in the he!! was she in ICU?  As dad quickly got his shot, I called all of my kids and told them I didn't know what happened, but that Grandma was in ICU.  

When dad and I walked into the ICU room, a nurse was in there.  She explained that my moms bowels had stopped working, which was common after surgery due to the pain meds, but that it had made her vomit and she'd aspirated the vomit.  My mom couldn't hardly breathe.  They had her on a bi-pap machine.  She had a temp of 103.something ...I was in such shock that I don't remember what the *point* something was.  Another nurse came in with two ice packs, which they packed under each of her arms.  If you stood by her and said her name, she'd open her eyes but for the most part, she was just asleep.  

Within an hour of dad and I arriving, my youngest daughter, her boyfriend, and my oldest son had arrived.  When I got the call that they were almost to the hospital, I went downstairs to wait on them, to take them to her room.  I wanted to talk to them, and warn them that she had an NG tube down her nose, and that she was on the bi-pap machine.  I tried to carefully explain exactly what bi-pap was, and told them that even though the machine was kind of loud, not to let it scare them.  I was a mess myself, but I knew I had to be strong for them and not let them know that I was actually petrified.  Even when my daughter welled up with tears, I held it together!

My oldest son is a combat engineer in the Army Reserves, a team leader for urban breeching and demolition, has one semester of college then the academy and then he'll have his degree in criminal justice and be a cop, and he's an MMA cage fighter.  I wasn't worried about him.  I was worried about my daughter.  When we walked in that room, he stood there looking at my mom from the doorway for about 5 minutes, then I saw the tears well up in his eyes and he left the room.  I knew he went to the bathroom to try and pull himself together.  He was back in a few minutes.  About 10 minutes later, he left the room again.  This time I followed him out.  He was doing all he could to keep from crying.  All he said to me is "I hate that machine!".  I told him I was sorry, and that I met them downstairs and explained it to them beforehand, because I didn't want them to be scared.  I said "I did my best to prepare you for the machine".  He said "Yeah, well it didn't work".  

Just a bit later, my son got a call.  He walked out of the room then a few minutes later he motioned for me.  It was my oldest daughter who lives 1200 miles away.  She said "Mom, do I need to buy a plane ticket and come home?"  I said "Aww, Nikki, I don't know.  Why don't you hold off on that for now?".  She said  no, I'm on the airline site right now, and I just booked my flight.  I'll be in at 7:30pm tonight.  Now the only one not there was my youngest son.  He was working in NY.  He was able to get home Thursday night late.  

Here's a picture of my mom on the bi-pap machine:


So she went into ICU on Thursday.  Sunday morning around 8:30am my phone rang.  It was my dad.  His voice was soft and kind of defeated sounding, when he said "Hey Amy, your mom has taken a turn for the worse.  They're going to put her on life support.  I don't know, it doesn't look very good.  They're getting ready to put her on life support right now".  I said "Ok dad, we'll be right there".  I had just talked to my oldest daughter about 10 minutes prior and she was going to go to church with her Aunt, Uncle and cousins, then she was going to pick me up to go to the hospital with her.  I quickly called her, hoping she hadn't arrived at the church yet.  She was riding with her Uncle.  They were in the parking lot and he handed her his keys and said "GO!".  I told her not to back track and pick me up that we were heading out the door.  

We live about 45 minutes from the hospital, and we drove so, so fast to get there.  Thankfully we didn't wreck or get pulled over!  We stepped off the elevator into the ICU waiting room, and my dad and daughter were sitting there.  We walked up to them and hadn't been talking to them for more than a few minutes, when the doctor came out and asked us to come with him.  He took us to the nurses station and told us "The vent is in place.  We have your wife sedated.  She's in a medically induced coma. Don't ask me what happens next, because I honestly don't know.  Your wife is in very critical condition.  We'll do all we can for her, but ultimatel we're not God".  I don't know why I took offense to that last statement he made, because it's true.  It was all in God's hands.  But I did take offense to it at the time and it angered me.  I don't know for sure, but I imagine that it was due to the fact that an ICU doc had pretty much just told us that my mom could die.  He didn't leave much hope in his statements or his voice.  I was more scared than I've ever been in my entire life.  Still, I didn't show it.  I kept it together.  I still hadn't even allowed myself to cry since this all happened.  

I knew, from my limited medical background that a lot of times when someone my moms age, who has aspirate pneumonia, is put on a vent they never come off.  That they die.  I also knew that the longer someone is on a vent, the harder it is to get them off.  I was so scared.  So emotionless.  I felt so damn helpless, that I just didn't know what to do.  

The nurses kept telling me that even though my mom couldn't respond or open her eyes, that she could still hear us.  I kept telling her that I loved her and I needed her and not to give up.  I said "You FIGHT!" and she cracked her eyes open and nodded her head "yes" at me.  Then, she started fighting through her sedation.  They kept giving her more and more and she still wouldn't calm down.  They tried different combinations.  She still was so restless.  Her arms were restrained so that she wouldn't accidentaly pull the vent out (they had been from the moment the vent was placed).  Even with her eyes shut, she'd jerk her arms trying to get them free.  She'd thrash her head around, side to side and jerk her legs.  I hated it.  

Tuesday was the worst.  When she'd have her eyes open, she'd try to mouth stuff to me.  I couldn't begin to make it out with a vent in her mouth.  The nurses had cautioned us to try to keep her from trying to talk, because it could damage her vocal chords.  At one point I said "Mom, don't try to talk.  It'll hurt your vocal chords and we can't have that because when you get better and get out of here we have to go to church so you can sing with your pretty voice".  She looked at me and shook her head "no".  It was the first time she'd done that.  I said "YES.  You're going to get better and get out of here.".  She shook her head no at me again.  I said "Yes mom, you keep fighting" and she shook her head no then finally closed her eyes again.

I can't begin to tell you how hard that day was.  I was beat mentally.  My daughter took two photos of mom that day.  When I got home that night, I finally felt defeated.  I had finally lost my hope.  I pulled those two pics up on my computer and sat here looking at them.  For the first time, I allowed a couple of tears to run down my face.  I still didn't break down and cry, but I did shed a couple of tears. I was just completely mentally done.  The more I looked at those photos, the more I was convinced that she was going to die. Especially since it seemed as if she'd lost her will to live too that day.  She'd lost her fight.

Here's the two photos of her on the vent:



Looking at this pic still really bothers me. I feel like I could cry right now.

Wednesday morning I awoke early to get around for the hospital.  My oldest daughter picked me up, and I suppose she had started to lose hope too from the day before, because on the way to the hosptial she gently made a remark to me about "You know, as much as I don't want to say this, grandma may not get better".  I agreed with her and it was a quiet, somber ride to the hospital.  We walked down the ICU hall and turned to go into my moms room, and there she was laying on her side ...her arms were not restrained ...and she flipping waved to us!!  I couldn't believe my eyes!  My dad looked at us and in a cheery voice said "Your mom is a lot better!  They might take the vent out!".  

The vent came out around noon that day.  It was amazing!!  Just over 24 hours later, she was sitting up in a chair, with a food tray eating!  Here's a picture of her.  I still can not believe the difference in her from the picture above, to the picture below in just over a 24 hour time frame!!



That Friday afternoon, after 8 days in ICU and a little over 3 of those days on life support, my mom was moved to a regular floor.  That Sunday morning, after a 12 day hospital stay that was supposed to be a 2 day hospital stay, she was released and came home!!  I was at her house waiting on her to get home, and stayed last week to help her.  She's still weak.  She doesn't have good control of her right leg.  She came home on 2 liters of O2 24 hours a day, and she still coughs a bit.  She fell around 2am this morning, loosing her balance when she tried to flush the toilet.  But she's alive.  She's home.   I'm lucky enough to still have my mom in my life.  

I held everything together from October 29th to current, and yesterday my flight or fight reflex finally kicked off.  Which, has left me in one of the worst flares I've ever had in my entire life.  My neck, back, and shoulders hurt so bad that I can't even describe it.  I'm in so much pain, that I'm about to cry.  Seriously.  I'm absolutely exhausted with fatigue.  I have huge knots in my muscles and my head hurts non-stop.  Fibro fog is bad.  It's taken me literally hours to write this post.  I feel like I'm spiraling down a black hole.  

Don't ever let anyone tell you that stress does not excaburate Fibro symptoms or bring on flares.  My body will challange them!!









Monday, January 21, 2013

Loneliness and Depression


I took this photo after the only "real" snow we've had so far this winter.  December 29, 2012. I think the undisturbed layer of snow is beautiful, but it's also so cold and deserted.  The benches of our local park wait patiently for Spring.  For warmth, for the sound of children's laughter again, and for people to load the tables down with all of the great food and get-togethers.  It patiently waits for Spring.  Reflecting on this photo, also makes me reflect a little on my life.  I too, feel cold and lonely.  I too, am awaiting the warm of "Spring".

When my husband first left me out of the blue on April 8th of last year, I instantly started a flare.  In all accounts.  My pain flared, my insomnia flared, and my depression really flared.  I sat and cried off and on all day, and all night, for three months.  Not only does that sound ridiculous, but it is ridiculous.  I couldn't help it though.  I already had been battling depression before he left and once he did, I just quickly spiraled downward.  

In July, I had an appointment with my rheumatologist.  I had papers to fill out before she came in to see me, as I always did regarding my symptoms.  She came flying in the door with her eyebrowns knitted down and a true look of concern on her face.  She said "Your health is a lot worse.  What's going on?".  That's all it took.  The tears started flowing again, like two faucets that were stuck wide open.  After her hugging me, rubbing my back lightly with one hand, and handing me half a box of tissues she looked at me and said "Ok, it's time to buck up.  You can beat this depression, and I'm here to help you.".  She put me on anti-depressants.  Soon, I wasn't crying off and on all day and night long, only a few times throughout the day and night.  Then, pretty soon I was down to not crying every day, but only a few days a week.  After that, I just stopped crying.  I felt as if I'd held onto the rope long enough to be pulled out of my deep, dark hole. 

Lately, I'd been feeling the depression creeping up on me again.  I was starting to cry off and on again.  I was feeling like things were too much. I've been so extremely stressed over money, and my health.  I've been so lonely.  So, so very lonely.  I was overweight to begin with, but with these meds and the physical pain I've been in every single day, I've gained even more weight.  I look in the mirror and I'm completely disgusted by the site of myself.  I've never had any self-esteem to begin with and now with how heavy I am, it's even worse.  

A week ago Sunday night, my soon-to-be ex sent our daughter a facebook message and apologized to her.  He asked her to apologize to me too.  Just as she was hollering "mom" from upstairs, I'd seen I had a message from him in my inbox too.  See, soon after he left, he stopped even seeing or talking to her too.  Neither of us had heard a word from him since June 10, 2012 so it took us both completely off guard.  

The woman he'd left me for had cheated on him and he was living back at his mom's.  He wanted to see Courtney and I told her at 17yrs of age, it was her decision if she was going to see him or not, not mine.  She chose to see him.  He came over three or four times through this past week.  He ate supper with her one night, we all played a board game on Friday night, etc.  Come Saturday late afternoon, she called him to see if he could take her to get shoes for her 1st job that she was starting at McDonald's this week.  He wouldn't answer his cell for her.  I sent him a message through facebook and asked him why he wasn't responding to her.  He messaged me back and said that he was back with his girlfriend and to leave him alone.  Another punch in the gut.  I couldn't help it.  I sat up bawling like crazy until 6am.  That dark hole I worked so hard to climb out of?  Yeah, well all the rocks just came tumbling down to completely bury me again.

To make sure I couldn't even see a shred of light, his girlfriend and him kept messaging Court's boyfriend, and me and anyone else they could think of to make sure I got the message that I was a fat, nasty, disgusting woman.  Only I'm giving you the clean version here.  If I totally was going to give a no-hold's barred post, you all would probably faint.  -All the way down to saying that a bag of flour needed dumped on me because I'm so fat.  -I'm pretty sure you all have heard that saying in the past and know what was said to me.  This kind of behavior lasted all night last night and until after supper time tonight.  I'm pretty sure we have everything blocked good now and won't be insulted with words.  The final message from his girlfriend, was that him and her both are deleting their past from their lives and moving on to the future with each other.  -Leaving behind any and all baggage.  So, my daughter has been completely thrown away too.  He won't have anything to do with her.  Said she's full of all bullshit and lies.  I realize that they are unintelligent, mean spirited people and I shouldn't let anything they say bother me, but I can't help it.  He knew all the right things to say to me, to cut me to the quick.  I'm completely stranded on some bills for January.  I don't know how I'm going to pay them.  I'd already been worried sick about it, and then he goes and tells me what a fat, lazy leach I am and how I'm just a burden to my family with all of my medical problems and looking to them to support me.  Him and this other woman have completely stripped me of any dignity I may have had, in a short 36 hour period or so.  

I feel like I'm back to day one of him leaving me.  I'm scared, my anxiety is in high gear, I'm crying, I've been stripped of any self respect, and I'm freaking out about what I'm going to do for income.  I'm so tired of all of this.  I'm tired of feeling this way.  I'm tired of doing nothing but setting alarms to eat another handful of pills.  I'm tired of still hurting beyond belief physically even though I DO eat a handful of pills 3x a day.  More then anything, I just wish I had someone special to care about me, and to lay in bed and hold me while I cry myself to sleep.  I'm not any spring chicken by any means, I was 42 years old on November 18th.  I'm still young enough though, that I don't want to live the rest of my life out without someone to be by my side.  J and D were right though, in the fact that the way I look and the fact that I can't support myself will greatly diminish my chances at ever finding love.  

In the past 7 weeks I've had 3 procedures under sedation to try and help some of my pain.  It was all for nothing.  I still have the pain.  I will myself not to think about my pain, but it's impossible to tune out a monster that's inside of you chewing and clawing away. I can't stand long enough to do a load of dishes all at once.  Every 5 minutes or so I have to stop and sit down.  Although sitting for very long causes me to have sharp pains mixed in with my dull aches. My knee pain is so bad that I have to use the arms of my computer chair to push myself back up to a standing position, with me muttering "ouch" as I'm rising.  My legs and back are so stiff when I do get standing, that my first few steps are made with me hunching over a bit.  Just typing this has my upper arms hurting and feeling like they weigh 1,000 pounds each. I'm already stiff from sitting long enough to write this.  I'm already having the shooting throbbing pain in my upper legs just from typing this.  How in the hell can I work a job to bring in income?  How?  Several large corporations offer some work from home jobs, but I'm not trained.  I don't have a college degree and I'm not qualified for anything more then a minimum wage job.  We all know that any minimum wage job has you on your feet and/or running around back and forth through the entire shift.  How AM I ever going to be able to pay my bills, you know?  

I see all this "I'm so tuff" talk all the time about how Fibro is NOT who they are, or how Fibro doesn't define them.  Well, I'm here for any of those out there like me, that can openly admit that Fibro DOES turn a person into what/who they are.  Fibro DOES define me.  How in the world can it not?  It's taken my marriage, it's taken my self-respect, it's taken the ability to provide a living for my daughter and myself.  Fibro has made me a slave to medicines and alarms and whether I can leave my house that day or not.  Sure, I want to motivate myself and others too, but I don't feel it necessary to downplay how absolutely horrible a bad case of Fibromyalgia can be ..and IS in my case. Just like with any other sickness. One person may have 10 symptoms and one person may have one symptom from Fibromyalgia.  People can have varying degrees and types of pain from it.  I feel that for me to own up to how much it's helped to destroy my life, that I'm doing a bigger service to the chronic pain and fatigue world then if I posted all of the rah-rah crap.  If anyone is out there that feels the same way I do, I want to validate their feelings, because all of the rah-rah crap?  Yeah, it doesn't help pull me up out of my dark hole.  It helps me to feel even more lonely then I already am. It makes me feel that maybe I'm just a whiny whimp.  It makes me like a complete outcast in the Fibro world.  

I went into this adult world thinking that I was going to go a great amusement park that would be loads of fun.  I thought I'd be able to hit up an all  you can eat buffet while I was there.  Unfortunately though, the reality of it is that I hopped on a roller coaster that is barreling out of control, and instead of getting to order a  buffet, the waitress instead flopped down a crap sandwich.  Sorry to be a downer tonight.  I'm truly struggling right now and doing the very best that I can to keep my head above water.  At least one thing you all know you'll get with me, is honesty.  I'm not going to sugar coat anything in my life.



Friday, February 17, 2012

Did Someone Say, Stress?!

According to both rheumatologists I've seen, stress is a huge factor in bringing on pain flares.  I have a husband who's a local truck driver, working crazy long hours on the roads, 4 children...1 who also has pcos and depression, and I fully suspect she also has fibromyalgia, 1 soon to be granddaughter by marriage that turned 7 months old yesterday, and 2 dogs.  I don't know how not to have stress in my life.

Last night around 10pm my son called.  He's the one who is getting married soon, he's 18.  -Stress enough for me that he wants to get married and take on the responsibility of a "ready made family" at his age.  They'd been living in her grandmother's extra farm house.  The girls brother also lives there with his family.  Things turned heated last night, and they ended up needing to leave.  So, with my husband having to get up for work at 4am and take a load to PA, he had to get up and go pick up our son, his girlfriend and their baby.  He ended up not getting home and back to bed until midnight, so therefore he had to set his "start" time for later then he should've.

My son had been telling we all week that he had a cold and didn't feel good.  When he got here last night he was white as a ghost.  Stated he'd vomited a few times yesterday.  He laid on the floor and moaned and wriggled in pain from his stomach.  Finally, around 1:30am he told me he thought he was dying and had to go to the hospital.  We got there and his bp was 112/47.  They started an I.V. Gave him pain meds and zofran through the I.V.  Then they did an xray of the stomach and a CT of his entire abdomin.  Everything came back fine except the CT showed fluid around his liver.  They said that's usually indicative of hepatitis, but that his blood work all came back fine so that didn't support a hepatitis diagnosis.  They discharged him a little after 5am this morning.

This afternoon, the stomach pain started up again.  No vomiting today.  He was again laying on the floor moaning and wriggling with the pain.  Called the ER and they said to bring him back out again.  After not getting to bed until 6:30am I was just too wiped out to go with him this time.  His girlfriend drove him out, and my daughter went with them.  She just called me and said that they're starting another I.V. and doing more blood work.  They're going to check to see if he has hepatitis and they're going to check for an obstruction of his liver.  Not sure how they check, but Courtney's supposed to find out and call me back.

Keep stress out of my life?  Yeah...not happening at this point and time.  I really need a nice 1 week vacation on a beach somewhere, with a full body massage at a spa.  :/