30 things about my invisible illness you may not know

The wonderful Teri Robert of MyMigraineConnection had recently posted this on her blog, From Teri's Keyboard, and asked me to participate.

I'll quote Teri's post here to better explain this meme:

Anyone who has Migraine disease or another headache disorder knows what it's like to live with an invisible illness. People can't see our illness. There are no outward signs. No physical scars, canes, wheel chairs, or any of the other outward signs that can alert people that a person is living with an illness.

Invisible illnesses are easy for "healthy" people to ignore. Unfortunately, so are the difficulties of those who live with these diseases. This adds to the burden of disease and makes lives even more difficult.

Each year, National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week is observed to educate the public and raise awareness about invisible illnesses. One of the blogging activities this year is a "meme," 30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know.

Without further ado...

1. The illness I live with is: Migraine disease (including Transformed Migraine, Chronic Migraine, Migraine Without Aura and Acephalgic Migraine), Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, along with gluten intolerance, many food sensitivities, seasonal/environmental allergies and Asthma. I also struggle with depression and anxiety. For the purposes of this meme, I will mainly focus on the head pain issues.

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2003 (Migraine) & 2009 (IIH).

3. But I had symptoms since: at least my early teen years.

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: slowing down and learning to modify my goals (both short- and long-term). I've had to learn just what is realistic with my current limitations.

5. Most people assume: that I'm healthy, especially because of my recent weight loss (75 pounds since January 2008). It's hard for them to believe that I'm sick when I look so healthy on the outside.

6. The hardest part about mornings is: getting going. Mornings are the toughest part of my day and the time I generally feel the worst. Pushing through that initial crappiness can be very hard.

7. My favorite medical TV show is: House and Royal Pains.

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: my laptop. My cell phone is a close second.

9. The hardest part about nights is: going to bed on time. I'm a night owl by nature, but my Migraine disease requires that I get the right amount of sleep every night. It's difficult to make myself go to bed sometimes, and occasional insomnia and/or anxiety don't help with good sleep hygiene.

10. Each day I take 19 pills & vitamins.

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: currently do massage therapy and relaxation exercises. In the past I've done acupuncture and biofeedback. This fall I plan to try mindfulness meditation, as well as get back into Nia dance and maybe try tai chi/qigong.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: visible. It's unspeakably hard to feel like I have to prove to others that I'm sick.

13. Regarding working and career: I was laid off from my full-time job in an architecture firm in November 2008. In March of this year, I began working part-time as a hair salon receptionist, and this week I've begun a second job as a medical receptionist, also part-time. I'm not sure if I'm healthy enough to go back to full-time work, especially in an office environment. DF and I have broad future plans to start our own business, but that's quite a ways down the road. I feel very frustrated that I've had to put many career plans on hold (like licensing exams and graduate school) because of my health.

14. People would be surprised to know: that I am in some type of pain every moment of every day. The pain never, ever goes away.

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: limitations. I'm an overachiever by nature, someone who pushes through "anything" to accomplish my goals. I've now learned that I have to respect the limitations of my health.

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: blog about it, and reach out to the vibrant online chronic illness community.

17. The commercials about my illness: maddening. I tell DF that Excedrin ads are more likely to trigger a Migraine than the drug would be to stop one.

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: spending time out of the house with my friends.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: pushing myself "no matter what". I've had to learn to stop when my body says so.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: knitting/crochet.

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: have a picnic on a sailboat with DF, without having to worry about the sun, myriad potential triggers or my proximity to a bathroom.

22. My illness has taught me: to say no.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: "I've heard that __ fixes Migraines, you should try it." Trust me, I already have. I know you may mean well, but I would rather do without the unsolicited advice.

24. But I love it when people: show compassion or honestly want to know more about my illnesses.

25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "There are times in life when we can nurture our talents and watch them grow. But there are also times in life when we can do no more than protect them to get through the day-to-day, until we have the opportunity for nurturing again." (paraphrased) from the former honors director at my alma mater. He and I were discussing my worries about the effects of my health on my semester's work.

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: the most important thing you can do as a patient is educate yourself and ask as many questions as you need to understand.

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: how much space it takes up in my life, and how every minor decision becomes a major choice.

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: when DF took care of me after my lumbar puncture when I had a spinal headache. In addition to everything he normally does for me, he went so far as to empty a trash can I had vomited in when I couldn't walk to the toilet.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: the only way to increase awareness of our illnesses is to speak out.

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: that one day, there will be more understanding of the struggles that chronic illness patients face.


If you blog, or even if you just Facebook, I ask that you please consider posting this meme with your own answers.


Be well,
MJ

radio silence | part 1: another acronym, another diagnosis

Well, hello there, everyone. I'm hoping to get back into more regular updates, and in the meantime, I hope to catch you up a bit on what's been happening in my corner of the world.

When I saw Dr E in February, he prescribed a low dose of Celexa (citalopram) to help with the anxiety and depression I was dealing with because of life stressors (namely, unemployment) and my health. Celexa is also used as a Migraine preventive, so we were hoping it would help in the head pain arena, as well. I spent a few weeks trying to gather my courage enough to swallow that first pill, and in the meantime, found a part-time job, so I never did try it.

During my follow-up visit with Dr E in April, he asked me where I wanted to go with my treatment. I had seen some success with Dr P, and obviously I was feeling skittish about trying new prescription drugs. So I brought up an issue that had been simmering in the back of my mind for over a year - are my vague symptoms actually due to Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension? I certainly have at least mild head pain every day, with dizziness; as well as unexplained Migraine attacks, nausea, shoulder and neck pain, and tinnitus. Dr E and I had discussed this when I first saw him in 2008, and we had decided to try a few other treatment ideas first before further exploring IIH.

When I brought up IIH again, Dr E agreed that we had come to a point in my treatment where it made sense to test for it. He scheduled me for a lumbar puncture at the end of April. The procedure itself was fairly straightforward (though massively anxiety-producing) and I found out that my pressure is higher than normal. I ended up with a truly terrible spinal headache after the LP that left me completely bed-bound for a week, but I was able to get a blood patch to treat the headache.

While I'm certainly not happy to have another thing wrong with me, getting diagnosed with IIH has opened up my treatment options. Dr E prescribed me a very low dose of Diamox (acetazolamide) to reduce my spinal fluid pressure. I've been taking it since May, and just increased my dose a month ago, and I'm already seeing some positive effects. I'm tolerating it better than the other prescription preventives I've tried, so all in all, the LP was worth it.

I still have a long way to go in finding an effective treatment regimen, but adding the Diamox to treat my IIH has been an important step. I'm having less overall head pain, fewer Migraines and less severe Migraines. Every little bit helps, so I'm glad I followed my instincts and discussed IIH with Dr E.

More to come...


Be well,
MJ

scars, pain and understanding

I had an interesting conversation with a friend, B, tonight. Without sharing too many of her personal details, she's in the middle of seeking a diagnosis for abdominal pain, originally related to ovarian cysts and now possibly an infection.

I've been friends with B since college, though we haven't necessarily been close. Last year, during a trip back east, I opened up to her some about my daily struggles. She had no idea I had continual head pain and live such a regimented life. At the time, I was still very sick - my head pain was never below a 4/10 and my Migraines turned severe (7+) several times a week. Add the melange of daily symptoms, and I was in very sad shape.

B remembered that conversation from last year, so she sought me out tonight to share her story and her struggles. It was very touching and heart-wrenching at the same time. It seems that much of her trouble is at least partially due to being brushed off by her doctors (a familiar story to many of us).

Probably the most amazing part of the conversation is how many of her words mirrored my very same feelings from last year. She's dealing with a lot of anger right now, reminding me of my own anger I'm finally letting go of. I remember how overwhelming the anger would be sometimes, borne out of an inescapable frustration with my debilitating pain. I was angry with everyone around me, especially those without chronic pain who couldn't possibly understand what I was going through. Mostly I was angry that there was no "fix" for my chronic pain, and I could only hope to manage it for the rest of my life.

It's only in the last few months that things have begun to turn around. My treatment regimen, coupled with a lot less stress, is finally working. Getting rid of three major stressors in my life (found a part-time job, finished moving to our new apartment and sold my car) has significantly improved my health. I'm still not where I want to be, but I'm much closer than I was last fall.

I couldn't really give B any answers, but I could offer her some hope and support. I pointed her toward a number of resources on the web. I shared some more of my story that I hadn't told her before. But, most importantly, I offered her compassion and understanding, something I've found in abundance here in the online chronic illness community.

My talk with B was a strong reminder that at any time, any one of us can cross from the world of the healthy into that of the sick. But it's also a reminder that we can manage to find our way back among the healthy, even if we bear the scars of the journey.


Side note: if any of you have suggestions for resources for female reproductive disorders and related pain, please leave them here in the comments so I can pass them along to B.


Be well,
MJ

terminology

The end of last year, when I was still seeing neurologist #2, I remember questioning the need for an accurate diagnosis. After all, chronic head pain is chronic head pain, and I need to find an effective preventive regimen regardless of what kind it is. It was about this time I began to wonder if I needed to consult with an actual headache specialist - someone who dedicated their practice to the study and treatment of headache and migraine - rather than just a neurologist. Since neuro #2 began to run out of ideas, I decided a fresh pair of eyes on my case wouldn't hurt, and I asked for a referral to a specialist, AKA neuro #3.

I was fortunate (I thought) to get in with neuro #3 in about two weeks. She was just coming back early from maternity leave since the other neurologist in her practice was leaving, and had not scheduled any patients yet, so I was at the top of the list. So I had virtually first pick of appointments and was able to schedule fairly quickly. The first appointment went well, and after looking at the list of five preventives I had trialed and failed, she wanted to try me on Botox, her main interest and area of research. If that didn't work out, we would retry me on Topamax, since I hadn't given it enough of a trial the year before.

After two months of waiting around, my insurance rejected the pre-authorization claim for Botox, labeling it "experimental". After a number of phone calls, she had finally agreed to write me a script for the Topamax, and once the insurance rejected the Botox I scheduled another appointment with her to discuss my options.

I had this appointment with her about a month ago. I went in well-prepared with a list of questions, and brought DBF with me in case he had any questions. For some reason, this appointment didn't seem to go as well as the first. Neuro #3 went over all my questions with me, but was completely unwilling to even discuss the possibility of rescue meds - saying simply that "they don't work" - and didn't want to discuss any treatment options for my daily migraine pain. When I asked her the difference between chronic daily headache and transformed migraine, she said they were different terms for the same diagnosis, and implied that my ongoing migraine is simply a headache - an implication I did not pick up on right away.

After the appointment, I had a weird sense of hopelessness I couldn't immediately pin down. The following week, my daily pain spiked again, so I decided to call in to try for an IV treatment, which neuro #3 had reluctantly offered to me as an option when I questioned her about it, with the caveat that it wouldn't do much for my "regular daily pain". It took me five days to get in for this treatment because of her irregular schedule: she typically only works three days a week. This scheduling mess, coupled with the feeling I couldn't shake that she had given up on me when the Botox was denied, finally pushed me to fire her. (My mom later pointed out to me that since I couldn't do the Botox, my doc had demoted me to her B-list of patients.)

Fast-forward to this past weekend, with all these strange symptoms I've been having. I called into the nurse's line early Monday morning to leave a message about the new symptoms that cropped up over the weekend. I got a call back - which I missed, of course, so the nurse left a message - saying that they would pass the message along to my doc on Tuesday when she was back in the office.

Tuesday (yesterday) afternoon, I finally got another call back - which I missed again, because they only ever call when I'm in a meeting at work - with a message from a different nurse. Neuro #3 said the symptoms were probably not from the latest IV treatment, and "may be" related to the "headache". If I still had some concerns, I could schedule an appointment with her nurse practitioner, and here is her phone number. Click.

Are you kidding me??

This short message confirms my instincts in firing this doctor's sorry butt were correct. She will not even call this migraine a migraine, only a headache. But now it makes more sense why she was so unwilling to offer any treatment for it, since she thinks it is only a headache, not worthy of any treatment.

So, it's on to neuro #4. I have an appointment scheduled with him on May 21, four weeks from today. I am much more encouraged by his office than by that of neuro #3. His staff is much more polite and helpful. I received my new patient information packet in the mail within a few days of my appointment being scheduled - rather than the day before my appointment - and the forms are much more detailed, including a depression screening form. I'm just very glad I didn't wait to move on to a new doctor and went with my instincts about neuro #3.

Now, I just need to get through the next few weeks.

betrayed by my own head

A few months ago, I read a book by Michael Stein, MD, called The Lonely Patient: How We Experience Illness. While much of this book is framed in the author's experience with terminal illness (not his own, but that in his family), he does speak to chronic pain throughout. He divides the book into four parts, corresponding to the four reactions he sees to chronic illness: betrayal, terror, loss and loneliness. Betrayal is certainly one of the emotional reactions I seem to revisit frequently on my journey toward acceptance of this disease.

This weekend - Saturday night, especially - was another visit of betrayal.

Over the past two years, my chronic daily headache has gradually become daily migraines, and now a continual migraine since about the end of November. On one hand, this has taken away the unexpected and often frustrating aspect of episodic migraine, which is you just never know when it might strike. I always know when it will strike, which is always. I wake up with the pain, I eat, breathe, work, think, walk, do and sleep with the pain. It's there, a constant resident in my brain, whether I like it or not. I'm doing what I can to dislodge it, but in the meantime, I'm stuck.

My brain decided to play a new trick on me Saturday night.

DBF and I were curled up on the couch after dinner, watching tv, when I had this weird wave of dizziness pass over me, followed by pins and needles all over and a sort of hot flash. Then the tingling settled in on just the left side of my body (arm and leg). After a few minutes, when it didn't pass, I started to get rather scared. Something isn't right, my instincts are telling me.

You see, a migraine that lasts longer than 72 hours, without at least a 4-hour break in pain while awake is status migrainous, considered a medical emergency because it puts the migraineur at increased risk of migrainous stroke. Having had this particular migraine since last November, I pay extra attention to new symptoms. And like any educated migraineur, I know the symptoms of a stroke.

So, I told DBF what was going on, that I was scared. We decided to call 911. He told the dispatcher what was going on, described my symptoms and told them how long my migraine had been going on. The paramedics got here relatively quickly - though it seemed like an eternity, of course - and checked my vitals while they asked me some questions about my symptoms. They left the decision up to me whether they would bring me into the hospital or not, but they saw nothing life-threatening that concerned them. They did remind me that they are only firemen, of course, not doctors. I decided not to go with them.

I did call the doctor on-call at my fired specialist's office to see if he thought I should seek emergency attention. He spoke with me for probably ten minutes, asked some questions about my symptoms, about my IV treatment on Friday, including which drugs they had given me, when, and if I had had them before; as well as if I had had these symptoms before. He also checked to see if I had had an MRI before (I had one a month ago that came back normal). He believes these new symptoms to be another manifestation of this ongoing migraine and described it as "complicated migraine", which is a descriptive term (not a standard diagnosis). He did not see any need for me to seek immediate care, but did encourage me to call my doctor today.

As unpredictable as this illness often is, we still expect it to follow a certain pattern. My pain is usually here, I usually have these symptoms, I usually get a migraine after encountering these triggers. Whenever our disease breaks the pattern, it's frightening for one thing, but we are also left with a sense of betrayal. Migraine beast, it's hard enough to cope with you on a normal day, but why do you have to change your pattern?

The tingling has not gone away since Saturday night, but I also have not developed any new symptoms. The doc on call told me some specific things to watch for that would indicate a need for immediate medical attention. I called into the nurse's line this morning and left a message about these new symptoms; I got a call back asking for some more information, and letting me know the message would be passed along to my (fired) specialist tomorrow since she was already gone for the day. (Another sign that I know I made the right choice in firing this doctor - unfortunately she's all I've got until May 21 when I see the new guy.)

The good news is, I know I can rely on DBF in case of emergency. He took me seriously and didn't question the need to call 911. He kept me calm while we were waiting for the medics and when it was all said and done, gave me a big hug when I started to cry. And cheered me up by making me laugh. Because this whole thing freaked me out.

So, a reminder to all of you fellow migraineurs out there: if any new, unexpected or worrisome symptoms crop up - even if they are just new symptoms - please check with your doctor at the very least. When we are dealing with brain issues, it is much better to just have things checked out.

-MJ