#like I wish every doctor could be like my gastro

[hazel2468]

Ok I gotta bitch about something real quick here.

So, good news first- got a diagnosis. PCOS. I had a feeling (and several of my friend are now correct), but it's good to have a solid "Yeah, this is what's going on here".

But anyway. Kvetch time.

So, my endo is pretty great. She offered to hook me up with their gender specialist, so I might be getting the ball rolling on that soon, which is exciting and terrifying. But we had a call and went over everything. More good news- my levels look great. Everything is normal and my thyroid levels are, quote, "beautiful". But we started talking about PCOS, talked a little bit about HRT. And then she brought up diet stuff, which I imagine is standard.

But what annoyed me was that she was talking about how to adjust what I eat because of "health risks". And so I asked her to clarify for me- is there anything in my labs of concern? And she said no- everything looks fine and dandy. I asked if there is any indication that I should be making any kind of serious changes based on my labs. Again, no. Everything looks good.

So... The only "issue" there is my weight.

My levels are good. I've been in a bit of an experimental "what can I eat that won't upset the void where my gallbladder used to be?" phase, but overall I've been eating the same as I have for years. I did tell her I wanted to work out more and, now that I'm fucking finally fixing my sleep schedule I might actually be able to make time to lift in the mornings.

But what annoyed me was that all of that stuff- good stuff- eating in a way that doesn't upset my intestines, working out more because fuck it I wanna be a strong theydy, the fact that my labs are not only normal but look great... All of it just falls before the fact that I am fat. All of it.

And to be clear, I'm not pissed at my doctor, specifically. I'm pissed because all of it seems so standard. It's the "this is the PCOS spiel" kind of thing- the general stuff that you say. And the annoying thing is that, apparently (and I was already well aware of this but it always sucks to be reminded), it doesn't actually matter what my habits are, what I eat, if I work out or not, how my labs look, at least in the eyes of the general medical standards.

No, what matters is that I am fat, and therefore I am unhealthy and need to change everything- even though literally everything else speaks to the contrary.

And what's even MORE annoying is that... I have PCOS. I have hypothyroid. Those are BOTH conditions that cause weight gain. Those are both conditions that make losing weight even harder than it already fucking is for most people.

So the fact that the medical standards for diagnosing someone with PCOS involve looking at their BMI and determining that they need to change their whole lifestyle solely based on how they look- not on their actual habits, not on their ACTUAL LAB RESULTS, but their weight?

IDK that just annoys me. It pisses me off. It put a damper on the whole "You have an answer finally AND also you're doing really well health wise.... OH but you're fat and so we need to lecture you about your diet and exercise and imply that the reason you should do those things is to lose weight."

[mandiweirdmore]

So... Yeah I am part of the 80% of intellectually disabled women.

This is my story and why I believe children should have proper sex education in school and have a discussion with their parents. I Beg of you to know the signs especially if you are Autistic or a parent of an Autistic child. We are at such a higher risk than others and not having the knowledge of what sex even is makes it inevitable.

How can one speak up for themselves if they do not have the words to describe what happened to them?

WARNING- This discusses sexual assault, rape, and statistics of it happening to Autistic women. Please be aware of your triggers viewer's discretion is advised.

This is really hard to write about let alone speak about. I can count the number of people I have told about the incident on one hand. I suppose I shouldn't call it an "incident". Incident applies it only happened once... that is not the case. You may be wondering why I would post about it on the internet if I'd rather push the memory to the darkest place of my mind and never think about it again. I don't have much luck pushing the memories away they resurface every once in a while. I don't think I am the only woman who feels this way, so I want to share my story. I want you to know you're not alone and I want parents to know how to protect their children plus know the signs.

SIGNS TO LOOK FOR

Refusing to bathe

Bathing to much

Frequent UTIs

Isolation

Wetting the bed

Scared to be touch

Becoming a germaphobe out of nowhere

Nightmares

Refusing to change

Refusing to wear the clothes they once loved

Refusing to sleep

Becoming mute

Seeming on edge or jumpy

I feel sick typing the story let alone saying it but a therapist said writing the trauma down is a part of the moving-on process. I don't even have to show it to anyone might even just delete this. Then maybe I can work up to saying it out loud one day.

I was seven and I was a victim of child-on-child sexual abuse known as COSCA. It was my babysitter's son he was four years older than me and I had failure to thrive so I was always much smaller and weaker compared to everyone around me. I still believed myself much stronger than the doctors and my parents deemed me. I would wrestle anyone I was the definition of a tomboy girl who grew up on a farm. My father told me not to wrestle with the neighbor boys. To this day I wonder if he knew the boy had other intentions. It started with teasing and pushing me around. I was unaware of what friendship looked like I was young and undiagnosed autistic so I thought it was normal. I went there every day after school my mom worked insane hours and so did my dad. This was the time of the recession and my medical bills were insane because I saw a gastro specialist that we could not afford. My neighbors babysat me for free and knew of my family's situation that was used against me. The boy would make me go to his room he told me if I told anyone what he did to me he would tell his mom to stop babysitting me then my parents wouldn't be able to work. I knew we would lose the house or I wouldn't be able to go to the doctor and I couldn't let that happen. I didn't understand what he did to me or why he wanted to I just know I felt dirty and disgusting. I never wanted to be touched again everything was disgusting. Human bodies were disgusting and I did not understand them. It went on for months and only stopped because we did indeed lose the house and had to move. This fact made it all worse that I had been forced to do these things for nothing. I did not grasp what happened to me until I was seventeen because no one had taught me what sex was I learned from books all on my own. School taught abstinence and I never had a discussion with my parents about it.

I find myself frequently thinking of him. Does he remember what he did to me? Did he do it to others? I wish I had spoken up if not to help myself but for others. But truly how can one speak up when one does not have the words to explain what happened to them.

I want you all to know you are loved you are not alone. I felt utterly alone as a child because I didn't understand what happened to me so I hope my story can help you not have that feeling. COSCA is still sexual assault you are valid. You are not what happened to you. You are so much more.

[troidatoi]

Day 7 - 9/21/2023

I think I've literally cried every day this month. I always get so emotional when September comes and I don't know if it's cause of the transition to Fall and I already know my seasonal depression is going to skyrocket. My health anxiety is through the roof that I can't stop thinking about it and crying about it. Every little thing just triggers me and I start crying and and it's just tears on tears on tears. I just want to feel better so bad. I went to the gastro doctor again to test for SIBO and I don't have it. It's a relief that I don't but I still don't know what's going on with my body and the uncertainty makes me to k*ll myself. Sometimes I think I have the C word. (I know I don't.) It also feels like there's a lot of pressure in my head like there's something wrong with my brain. I just want to stop thinking like this but I can't. I so badly want something good to happen to me and I know it will. I want to be able to eat without fear, I want to not bloat anymore and not feel inflamed. I want to fit into my clothes again. I want to be able to enjoy life. (I'm trying my best.) Food still isn't digesting properly and I know it will heal sometime soon. I just feel like I'm doing everything I can but nothing is working. This is all started when I did my tummy tuck (which I don't regret at all) but if I knew my digesting system was going to be like this after then I don't know if I made the right move. I just wanted to look and feel fit and skinny for the first time in my life and I felt like I ruined it. :( I know I'll go back to my ideal weight soon and I'm doing the best I can but I am spending so much money on doctors and supplements and medication. I just wish I could get tested for everything and not have to worry about the money. My gastro doctor doesn't want me to do more testing because he doesn't want to expose me to radiation and I just laughed but I really want him to do it! Test me! I need to figure this out! I wish I took care of my body better. I keep apologizing to my body but also telling her that I love her and thank her for how strong she is. I don't want my body to keep going through this and I know I won't feel this way forever but I just want to heal so bad and it just feels never ending. This whole month has been ass so far. LOL. Like I'm trying to be positive but sometimes I just want to fucking scream and yell and throw something and punch something because of everything that's happened so far this month. Like you know where everything is going wrong and you feel like you can't watch a break and you just want to breathe but life decided to throw hands?! Yeah, this was all this fucking month.

The job search has also been making me extremely depressed like these companies are pissing me the fawk off with how we need to apply for the job and taking forever to get back to us. I had an interview with a certain company in June. Still haven't heard anything back. I even emailed the recruiter last month and he said they haven't heard anything yet. I thought the interview went well but it shouldn't take this long to get back to someone. I rather have them tell me I didn't get it then just get ghosted like this. (I am hoping I'm not getting ghosted. LOL) Don't even talk to me about salary because these companies want you to do the work of 2-3 people for a low ass salary like be fucking for real. I applied to two jobs yesterday and it was just so tedious although I'm hoping to get a call back from one of them just because I think it'd be cool to work there. :) Also, I applied to MGM and they got back to me the next day and set up an interview and everything. The manager texts me and she said servers are down and I was like okay, cool shit happens. I just thought the power shut off but nope. I found out later that week that they got hacked so everything got leaked and I was like HAHAHAHAHA, maybe the Universe doesn't want me to work there? I don't know man, I don't know whether to laugh or cry when it comes shit like this. Like I'm just asking to make money so I can pay back my parents and pay off my debt. I don't even want to be rich. Just financially stable enough to afford my wants and needs and even move out!! This whole month has just been so terrible. I want to believe that something good will happen you know? I'm claiming it though even if I need to be delusional about it.

I for some reason think about death a lot like it consumes me to the point where I just start crying out of nowhere. I remember even when I was a kid I asked my mom why do we die and she couldn't give me a straight answer. I don't know why I was little and asking questions about death. I remember crying in class when I was in 4th grade thinking about death for some reason. Like the thought just washed over me when I thought about it. I always thought (I still do) that death is so fucking tragic and living an old age is a privilege. Aging is a beautiful thing. (I don't know why the fuck society makes it seem so bad.) I like the idea of celebrating your life (which is probably why I love birthdays so much). Because it means that you're still here and shouldn't we celebrate the fact that you're still here? You made it this far. I thought about my death today like fucking a lot which is why I was crying a lot. Like would I be okay dying right now? I even thought what I would write to my family and friends if I ended up dying like right now. LMAO. Why am I like this? I would say I'd live a good life so far, a lot of ups and downs of course. A lot of regrets but not a lot of regrets. I've always done things that made me happy, my social life is amazing, and I have family and friends who love me.

My favorite artist right now La Roux knows who I am!!! The only thing that is keeping me going right now is that I need to meet her and see her in concert. LOL. It's funny cause she sent me encouraging messages and I didn't even think she would reply back to me. She told me to stay strong and I was like yeah okay!!! Let's do it not only for me but for her too. lmaooo. I don't know why her message affected me so much when my family and friends told me the same fucking thing but I was still fucking sad and mad about everything. I really do love her and her music so much. The way I gush over her is crazy. LOL. I don't want to sound obsessed but she's just so effortlessly cool. I really want to be her when I grow up. She's such a nice person and I know I shouldn't idolize celebrities blah blah blah but I have loved every song and every project she's done that I bought both her albums and vinyls and hung them on my wall which I took a picture of and showed her and she said she loved it like yeah I hope she knows how much I love her. I'm telling myself I can't die without meeting her and seeing her live which is one of the things that's keeping me going. She gives it her all every performance. I know I'm going to meet her. LOL. If I met Kobe, then I'm definitely going to meet her one way or another. I'm manifesting that shit right now and I'm going to make it happen. I just love her so much like the first time she messaged me back, I cried. lmfaooo. I cry so much, someone should do a study on me. A conversation and hug from her would heal me in so many ways and we were even born in the same month!! And she speaks so intelligently and articulates so well. I think she's so fucking smart. She says it like it is and she's not scared to disagree with people and things. LOL. I remember everyone telling me that I was going to meet Kobe in high school and I kept having dreams where I met Kobe and tried to get a picture with him but my phone wouldn't work and I would always think like fuck, if I met him and this shit happened, I would cry. Lo and behold, a few years later I met him at his book signing at The Grove and it was worth it. The worker who took my picture did an amazing job taking my pictures with him and you can see how star struck I was to meet him. He was so nice and asked me if I wanted a hug and I was like yes!! I miss him everyday and I hope him and Gigi are well. And I hope when I meet La Roux, she doesn't think I'm weird or annoying as I know she has anxiety. Like I said I'd love a hug, a convo and picture (mirror selfie would be so amazing, lmao) with her. <3 It's going to happen! I just need to take care of myself first (which I'm fucking doing even if I have to fucking scream and bitch and moan about it until I get to a place where I feel better and my health is in a better place!)

Okay there was like a lot of negativity in this post because sometimes a bitch needs to fucking vent and let some shit off her chest (besides talking about my love for Kobe and La Roux) but I know they would want me to keep going despite of it all. The two celebrities who really did change my life for the better and I hope they know how much of a positive impact they've had on me. I just have to believe that my body is going to heal while also putting in the work to help it heal. I also have to believe that someone is going to hire me at the end of the month and that I'm going to pay off my debt. I need to give myself more credit for surviving all of this. I know something great is coming my way and money is going to flow towards me. I'm going to have good health and eat what I want again without pain. I am also going to Life is Beautiful tomorrow which should be nice!! I'm going with John and it's probably something I need. Probably have a heart to heart with John and cry over everything with him. I love concerts so much. I love music so much! I think it'd be nice to just get out of the house and not stare at my screen and wallow in my thoughts. lmfao. I'm just trying to appreciate and be happy with where I am now and hopefully good things follow me for it. I need to have faith even if it feels hopeless right now. Stay strong, Jane. You didn't come this far to come this far. You are protected, guided, and loved. Everything always works out for you! Believe it! Manifest it! Claim it! Please remember this on the days where you feel like everything is going wrong. I love you so much.

[horce-divorce]

good news!! my new gastro is FANTASTIC!!!!

i just got back from my appointment and like, first of all, i fucking love this guy, I wish he was my doctor for literally everything because he sat down, made eye contact, LISTENED to me, EXPLAINED EVERYTHING, not only the terms he was using but his own thought process and everything he'd be doing moving forward, drew diagrams?! and validated my concerns... right off the bat, he asked me what I thought it could be, and then actually took that into account (!!!!!). he sent me out of there feeling reassured AND with new information, making sure we were both on the same page first. like, wow. 11/10, the bar previously was on the floor, fucking incredible

ALSO?!?!?!? so this whole visit blew my mind for a few reasons and Ill come back to that... but a few months ago I started getting headaches after I eat, and I wandered down the thought process until I somehow got to, "what if blood flow to my stomach is restricted?" and I immediately shelved that bc 9/10 times if you go to the doctor with that level of advanced query they're suspicious of you. plus they're not gonna look at smth like that until other stuff is ruled out

so anyway the VERY first thing he did was ORDER A SCAN OF MY BLOOD VESSELS!?!?!?!? to make sure that my blood flow to my stomach is all good!!!!!????! he even said 'this isn't a common thing ppl usually think of but I just want to take a look.' I was so blown away by that, wow, i didnt even have to bring it up. like, thank you for my life.

ALSO ALSO, he concluded that everything I complained of was not only potentially consistent w my hernia, but ALSO with cortochondritis- arthritis of the ribs!!! I was SHAKEN when he said that bc like, you dont go to a gastro and expect to hear "oh stomach pain? it's your bones," but I HAVE HYPERMOBILE JOINTS, so as soon as he said that I was like "actually, that tracks. i'm hypermobile" and him and the nurse both shared a knowing look and went "ahh yep." lmfao like hello?!??? its all coming together!!!!

so yeah, I'm very pleased to be getting a look at my blood vessels (& rule out like, gall stones, just to be safe), he wants to do another endoscopy to make sure my hernia doesn't need surgery, and he wants me to address my GERD a little better bc that could also be causing increased/nerve pain in the stomach lining, whoops.

basically at the end of the visit he was like, i'm not gonna say XYZ but here's the information we already have, here's the information we're going to get, you take this knowledge and let it percolate until we can touch base again with the new info. bro 😭 literally every doctor visit should go this way, but the fact that I am so moved by this one (1) time where it did speaks volumes lol. he didn't even make me try any new pills?!?!?!? DO YOU KNOW HOW REFRESHING THAT IS???

he and I agree that we don't really know what's wrong because this COULD be being affected by multiple different things. could the joint pain, stomach issues, dysautonomia, etc. be explained by EDS? possibly (no I didnt bring that up yet, I just think I have a strong case & am building evidence on my own time). they COULD also be affected by numerous things; past OTC/alcohol/caffeine misuse, my hiatal hernia, anxiety, GERD, inflammation in my ribs, or some combination of all of them (hell, it could "just" be that my GERD is worse, causing pain & making my hernia "slip", which could then be getting pinched by my ribs/poor posture and further irritated; maybe if I get my reflux under control and watch my posture it'll stop. wishful thinking idk)

so yeah idk i walked out of there feeling extremely listened to and taken seriously so that's nice. im having much better luck w doctors in Michigan than I have anywhere else previously, my doctors in WI kinda sucked lol

[doberbutts]

Hi Jaz, I just wanted to thank you so much for making the post you did about dysautonomia, I’ve learned a lot I didn’t know before just in that little bit of info! My sister was diagnosed with POTS and additional gastro problems a couple years ago, after she hit 21 and had her gallbladder removed she suddenly rapidly declined and only after dozens of doctor visits did someone finally tell us what she’s suffering from. It’s crazy to see how she lived a relatively normal (now looking back she did faint often and had stomach problems but we didn’t see anything too strange, I see now it could’ve easily been her POTS) life and is now insanely disabled. We had no idea of this condition before, as you said most people don’t. She constantly sees doctors for help and we’re dealing with variations of “I don’t know anything about dysautonomia/I think it’s x instead/I can’t help you let me refer you and you wait 6 months for another app”, and it’s feeling so hopeless! Right now she can’t walk without a walker, has a port and gets sodium infusions 3 times a week, and faints every day. She’s completely bed ridden and has a catheter after randomly losing control of her bladder. Just going to a doctor can put her in tears from how weak it makes her, and she passes out in the shower every day. We’ve seen every doctor from under the sun, from Vanderbilt (who diagnosed her) and Mayo Clinic, but no one will help her improve her quality of life. Her veins are closing and she’s in constant pain and she requires a stent large enough to custom order, but they won’t perform that surgery until it (almost) kills her bc they don’t think she’s “bad enough”. I’M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this and I feel so helpless watching her waste away. We got our 18 week old Dobe Enzo for company, guardianship and potentially to help her or one day become her service dog (or we’ll consider getting another for this purpose) and I wanted to ask if you had any advice for what I could teach him, be mindful of, or bring up to doctors to try for my sister? I just refuse to believe she has to be bedridden and will waste away with no hope! Seeing you live a life though you suffer gives me hope and I want to understand and do everything I can to help her! Again I’m so sorry this is so long, if you ever find the time to reply I’d love to hear what you think I/Enzo could do for her if anything! Thank you again for spreading the awareness, it’s wonderful to learn more when Google and doctors aren’t much help. Best wishes to you 💛💛💛

Hey, no problem!! October is Dysautonomia Awareness Month so I try to dig up that post every October to remind folks about it!

Sadly a lot of doctors really don’t know what to do with POTS and it can be really hard to find someone who can help you. I’d go to one of the social media pages regarding Dysautonomia and see if someone can help you find a doctor based on your location or how willing you are to travel, and see if someone will give you a better answer than what you’ve been getting. Sadly because POTS is such a variable syndrome, some people have only a minor inconvenience caused by their symptoms while others are like your sister and are so disabled their quality of life is like someone dying from heart failure. 

As far as Enzo goes, it really would depend on your sister’s exact symptoms and what she needs. It sounds like she has it worse than I do, which means what I do with my dog is probably not what she needs at this point in time (but, perhaps if a doctor can help her get control over some of the more debilitating symptoms, that can be a goal in the future). Creed helps me in a number of ways whether by retrieving dropped objects, alerting to chemical changes in my body, and even guiding me to a chair to sit when I’m blinded by an episode... but whether that would help your sister remains to be seen. 

[dearestmichaella]

Why I Want to Become a Good Doctor

Today, we just had our ward discussion with our consultant regarding the patient we saw last last week (Feb 13) in Pasay City General Hospital with our main clinical impression of stroke. He is a 74/M, obtunded, not oriented to time, place and person, non-coherent, non-fluent with dysphasia and dysphonia. GCS 9. If you are from the medicine world, you will probably have a picture of him on your mind most especially about the severity of his presentation. In simpler words, he is most of the time sleeping but whenever he is awake, it’s as if he is confused and not really receptive about the things happening around him. He only conveys his message through moaning most especially if he is feeling any pain in his body. The consultant in our ward discussion is somehow strict but in a constructive way. I find it helpful because he wants us to learn through his clinical experiences. What he usually do is he have our index cards, each with our name on it, calls a random person to present each part of the case. He would ask anything under the sun and we will be graded on that. I usually try to peek on what he is writing in our index cards but he has these random codes. He has his phone on his side with a random series of numbers, he looks at it every time we answer and then he writes it in our index cards. There’s random letters, series of numbers that somehow made me felt like it’s as if a morse code (or maybe it really is?! ty parasite for letting me appreciate morse codes ahhaha). He also focuses on what we really think as doctors as to diagnosis, differentials and therapeutics.  

I really enjoy studying for any case discussions but only when I transferred to a new school. In my previous school where I went in, there’s no much time learning everything. Now that my new school has a different approach on activities like this, it gives me more time reading my medical books. It thrills me finding and getting answers on questions I have on my mind. So I must say prior to our ward discussion a while ago, I really really studied hard. My friend who is also part of the group asked me why I gave so much effort studying for this even on the smallest details. I also asked myself the same question especially during times of frustration and tiredness. I can just actually sleep the rest of the night or perhaps study for other subjects I need to. Last night got me thinking and I just assumed that maybe, I am just like this. I just really wanna know more and I hate myself for that.

Why do I really study hard?

My father whom I loved so much despite and in spite, had a stroke when I was just a first yr med student, supposedly 2nd yr but I got irregular. I only had the basics back then - anatomy, physiology, physical diagnosis & etc. When my father presented with right sided numbness of his upper ext progressing to lower ext, I thought of stroke but not with much conviction. Papa claims that maybe he excessively strained his muscles when he was doing some chores. Papa is generally healthy, not even hypertensive with no known heart problems. Although he is a smoker.  We immediately consulted to a physician, an Internist-Cardiologist, whom I can say is good since he has a specialty. He is also affiliated with good hospitals around the metro. Our consult took only for more or less 5 minutes, asked what’s Papa’s chief complaint, took his BP, typed something on his computer, gave us a request for some labs and CT scan. We had it done but results from the hospital takes days and the doctor was clear that he cannot say anything at the moment without the labs and ancillaries. We had a follow up 3 days after, the CT scan was cleared. At that time, I was already nervous I even asked the doctor if we should be referred to a neurologist  or if we should just go to ER dept of the hospital cause it might be stroke to which he just replied with, “I need to first the duplex scan but if you wish to consult a neuro, you may do so.” Having said that, my dad who found me so annoying that I am insisting to consult a neuro, trusted the doctor that it could be something else. Because again, who am I compared to a specialist. I understand Papa, he was also scared because who wouldn’t it be. But that night, I talked to him with my book on the side, did some neurologic test, in which there are some that he cannot do. I convinced him finally to see a neurologist despite his normal CT scan. The next morning we went to a neurologist and the doctor said it could be a stroke based on his presentation and he needs to be confined immediately. I was devastated.

Papa is okay now though, to the lay what he had is just a mild stroke (medically, there’s no, mild stroke). What he had is an ischemic stroke to brain small vessels hence the, “milder presentation”.

I found myself devastated again today most especially when our consultant a while ago was discussing about stroke. I was amazed because I didn’t expect he would share so much about “stroke” since he is an expert in Gastro. When we were sharing our differentials, he emphasized why in our case, the first think you’ll think of is stroke. Hemiparesis. One sided weakness. Even without laboratory tests/ancillaries, it’s like a bell ringing in your mind. Stroke, an acute onset of focal neurologic deficit commonly due to vascular pathology - the theoretical definition. He even gave us scenarios aside from the case we presented such as, “What if, despite thinking of stroke, patient did a CT scan and found to be normal. No history of other diseases. There’s only one sided weakness. Would you still think of it as a stroke?” It is a challenging question on what should be the next best step for the patient. My classmates were answering - MRI could be requested but Doc asked, “What if the patient doesn't want to do an MRI anymore due to financial problem or what if the patient got mad cause you as doctor said that the CT scan is enough to confirm it’s stroke.” I was just listening, deeply. It is a question not seen on books but often seen in a clinical setting. Moreover, I remembered Papa. Doc said then that it should be a pertinent negative, meaning from there you would think that probably the stroke is ischemic rather hemorrhagic which usually presents in a CT scan, at least days after. The next best step is to administer immediately treatment because again, with stroke, timing is everything.

I did not expect that after this case discussion, I will have the answer to my friend’s question, “Why do I really study hard?”. The answer was simple, deep down in my heart, I want to become a good doctor. I want to save people, more so my family in times of like this. I don’t wanna become the cardiologist who saw my father twice and didn’t give much importance to what my Papa’s feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame  him but I am certain I felt like he wasn’t at his best when he saw Papa for whatever reason I don’t know of. Imagine how many patients are being seen by doctors who doesn’t pay much attention. Our mentors would always say to us, ‘Treat all your patients as if they are your relatives.’ They say, being a doctor, is really a calling. It is true that it requires us so much time, patience, hard work, mental and emotional torture but when life and death comes into your table, as humans, what the very least thing you can do? For now, as a medical student, the very least thing that I can do is to study hard with more than I can to become the good doctor I want to be.

Maybe, it’s too idealistic of me saying I want to become a good doctor because soon in the clinical practice, there would be so much challenges. Soon, all patients would become merely cases & numbers. You can’t let all this consume you or else, you wont be at your best for your next patients. It is a situation we can’t help from happening. But why does it seem wrong or hard to become human in a situation we need to be one?

As doctors who have been through a lot. We are made out of the extremes of the extremes situation that humbled us to become more human. And for us to treat another human, we have first to become one.

May I be, when the time comes of burn out and verge of giving up, reminded of this - on why I want to become a good doctor. And hopefully, soon, even I know it’s a long way to go, become one. With God’s grace.

*this blog is made out of tears and extreme passion*

[btamamura]

Sorry, this is a long post so you can feel free to just scroll past. I wrote this on the app since the web page hates my devices, so there is no Read More cut.

Time to open up to my followers.

If you’ve known me for a while, you’d know my battles over the last few years. For the new folks, here it is - I have been living with a chronic illness since November 1, 2014, and it has been awful.

It started out as just chronic nausea. We thought it might’ve been something I ate or a lingering case of gastro. But, that changed February the next year when the pain started.

I woke up one morning to find I was in extreme pain in my feet. I hadn’t injured myself but my feet felt like the bones had been shattered. The lightest touch made the pain even worse, so I was just lying on my back, feet in the air, crying and crying, trying not to scream and wishing it would just go away. The pain faded over the next couple of weeks, but never left completely. It was just an annoyance or painful but not excruciating. My grandfather offered for me to see a podiatrist, he would pay if not bulk-billed, because he thought maybe it was from the many years of walking on my toes.

The next day, right before my cousin’s birthday party, which I had planned on attending for at least an hour just to say hello to the family, the same horrible pains started in my hands. Dad just had to take one look at me to know I would not be going. I asked him, through my tears, in half-seriousness if he could find his axe and chop my hands off so I never had to feel that pain again.

I found a clinic to attend with my grandfather’s help. I saw a doctor about my symptoms. She focused on the nausea, even if I kept saying “I’m in worse pain today!”, so I tried seeing a different doctor in the clinic. The first doctor had ordered a gastroscopy to be done to see if there was something going on in my stomach.

The second doctor kept ordering the same blood tests - iron, b12, vitamin d. And even once those levels had been corrected, I was still sick and sore. I had since had my gastroscopy, which came up clear. The second doctor looked me in the eye and said outright that she believed I had to be faking in order to get out of looking for work. I was already upset that the gastroscopy had no answers (I’d already said I would cry if it came up clear, just as I would’ve if it found a tumour developing in my stomach), but then to hear that from someone who was meant to help?! I broke down crying and told her if everything I had missed in the time I had been sick. By this time, it was early 2016.

I told her of missing visiting my niece as a newborn. Of how I couldn’t attend my cousin’s engagement, Hen’s night and wedding. Of how I couldn’t attend my pop’s funeral. Or the missed annual dinners with Nan and Pop before his passing. (Pop is my dad’s stepfather and was a big part of my life growing up despite living far away.) How I had planned a holiday to the Gold Coast for my 30th birthday but instead spent that day in bed, struggling to down my food and avoiding the family as they ate theirs because the smell made my nausea worse. Of the Christmases I spent sick in bed and unable to visit my mother’s grave. Of not being able to hang out with my sister and spend time with my young nephew and much younger niece. I refused to see that doctor again and left feeling terrible.

New doctor at a clinic my great-uncle visited. He decided to do the usual blood test but also tested to see if I was autoimmune. Yep, so he then tested to see if I had lupus. Nope. But, he still seemed to be doing more for me than the last two doctors. A week after the autoimmune result came in, I wound up in hospital. I hadn’t been able to eat or drink for a week because I was having difficulty swallowing. I wasn’t in a dangerous condition, so I was only admitted overnight for observation, having some fluids by IV and to speak with a speech therapist the next morning as I was put on a purée diet. While being observed, the doctor in hospital noticed something - a goitre.

Eating troubles started becoming more frequent at that time. By the end of 2016, I was struggling with abdominal pains and low appetite. There were sporadic days I couldn’t eat a thing. I attended another appointment where the doctor forced me to have two jelly babies because my blood sugar was low - no, I’m not diabetic. They came to a head in late-March of 2017.

I hadn’t eaten more than a nibble here and there and only barely sipped at a drink for a week. I was very unwell and after the third time of being sick, I decided I had to go up to the emergency department because something was very wrong. I was right - they saw me right away. I was in the early stages of Refeeding Syndrome due to starvation, my blood sugar was low, my ketones had gone up and my organs were slowly starting to shut down. My blood was acidic. I was told to try sipping at apple juice, but it was no good, I couldn’t even muster that.

I was moved to short stay while waiting to transfer to a ward. My time in hospital was scary, and not in the usual “I’m afraid of hospitals” way. I was in danger. I was diagnosed with starvation ketoacidosis (similar to diabetic but I’m not diabetic), as anorexic (no appetite version, not anorexia nervosa) and even if they tried to get me to eat, I struggled even with crackers. They put me on Ondansetron (usually for chemo and radiotherapy patients) to ensure anything I did try to eat would stay down. I was put on different infusions - saline, glucose, potassium (THAT HURT SO MUCH, I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO SNAP MY ARM IN HALF AND I ACTUALLY PASSED OUT FROM THE PAIN!!) and others. I had blood tests at least twice a day and tests for my blood sugar and ketones every time I was about to eat or if I looked a bit more unwell. I had to be hooked up to a portable heart monitor, but the first night of that, my heart rate reached 150bpm just slowly walking to the toilet, and a Med Call was made to make sure I did not go into cardiac arrest. The doctor who made his rounds had to outright tell me that if I failed to eat, I would need to be put on a feeding tube or else I would die. That’s how bad it was. I was in for a week before I was deemed well enough and safe enough to go home.

The third doctor started to let me down, ordering the same blood tests to make it look like he knew what might be going on. No good. Wound up feeling too ill later in the year so I missed my uncle’s funeral.

In 2018, I started going downhill. Wound up hospitalised with starvation ketoacidosis again following a bout of gastro the day before. Falls also started occurring. But, it was no good, I couldn’t find a good doctor who could help instead of just playing around with the same old blood tests. I missed more events including my other niece’s first birthday and my great-uncle’s funeral.

2019, still struggling. I’m seeing a new doctor, but she very quickly lets me down by saying EVERYTHING is just tied to my anxiety. At least she took the lump in my breast seriously - thankfully not cancer. But, as the year progresses, a good doctor is finally found. My cousin helped me find a clinic that bulk-bills and is taking on patients.

My current GP listens every time I see her. Every. Time. I go in with a new symptom or concern, she orders the right tests or refers me to someone who can help. Through her help, I’ve been able to see a speech therapist about the ongoing swallowing issues, a physiotherapist about my falls, a dietician about my dietary issues which contribute to deficiencies, a surgeon about my goitre (he put me on medicine because my thyroid was a bit overactive - suspecting hyperthyroidism or any other forms of it - in the most recent blood test through the hospital when I went up by ambulance with chest pains, ordered a CT scan and believes the best course of action may be to perform a complete thyroidectomy, meaning removal of my thyroid), had me undergo full blood tests (not just the usual), had me undergo an ECG and TTE (trans-thoracic echo, an ultrasound of the heart) just to make sure all is well there since I keep having chest pains and most recently referred me to a neurologist because she believes my symptoms line up with a rare genetic condition. She’s also looking into finding a neuropsychologist who can help with an autism assessment.

Because of the help I’ve been receiving, I’ve been a bit more hopeful of a diagnosis finally coming in the near future. Because I’ve been seeing a physio who helped me with strengthening exercises for my legs, I have been able to go out walking for a little while - never out on the streets but yes in shopping centres, that way if something goes wrong, someone is nearby to get help.

I still feel nauseous (still on Ondansetron for that). I’m still in pain every second of every day. I still feel that weakness. But, I’m starting to have those okay moments where I can go shopping or play with my niece and nephew - both occurred over the last couple of days, a water fight two nights ago where I just stood there shooting a water pistol at them as they ran around me, and an hour out shopping with my niece. Yes, those hit hard the next day and up through the next week. I do not intend to push myself so hard I’m at risk of hospitalisation. But, I also need to work at rebuilding my stamina. My father and grandfather have special birthdays next year and I want to be able to attend the dinner organised...even if I can’t eat while there, as long as I’m there is what matters.

But, for now, it’s baby steps. Sitting up and watching a movie. Washing some dishes. Carefully playing with the kids. Try to keep the shopping trips short. Eat what is possible, not what is a must.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Dancing on the Wind chapter 3

Climbing back into Zeke's lap, Eren kept a fake smile on his face. He could smell that his older brother was mad, but it'd been important to him to thank the man that helped him. Even if it was his job, he could have just left him to Hanji "Did you say what you needed?" Eren's fake smile grew. He'd worn it ever since he could remember, somehow convincing Zeke that it was as good as the real thing "Yeah. I just wanted to thank them. They're the ones who helped me when I got stabbed" Zeke hadn't been happy when he'd been injured at work... if he couldn't dance, he couldn't make money, and everyone knows you need money to get anything or anywhere in this world "Was that all?" "Of course it was. You know I'm not interested in having any other alphas around me" "Good. I don't want you talking to them again" "You worry too much. I'm all healed, you know that" "I do. But we wouldn't want anything happening to you" Eren bit his lip. He hated when Zeke used his "dad" tone. He wasn't his dad... even if he kept him safe "You know I can't control the club patrons when I'm dancing" "No. It was both Reiner's and Bertholdt's fault for not keeping you safe" That was the whole reason they were here now. Zeke had silently brooded over the event... then Bertholdt had started getting sicker and sicker. Even though his older brother acted like he was shocked, the smile that played on his lips betrayed him. He'd done this intentionally, and he'd chosen Bertholdt because he knew it would hurt Reiner more that it was his boyfriend instead of him. Zeke scared him, but as long as he was by his side, Eren was safe "Can we go home soon?" "You want to go home?" No. Home was boring and depressing, but Zeke was getting bored "I still feel a little warm" Letting the lie roll off his tongue, his brother placed his palm to his forehead "You do feel warm. Bertholdt, make sure you follow the doctor's orders. I'll be back one Eren is settled" "I will. I'll see you guys later" Eren couldn't bring himself to look at Bertholdt as he mumbled his goodbyes. He knew Bertholdt knew Zeke was behind this all. It left him feeling sick. Bertholdt and Reiner were Zeke's closest friends, the pair were their roommates. They'd all lived together for the last few years. Reiner and Bertholdt had gotten jobs of their own at the club because Zeke had asked them too... now... now Bertholdt was laid up in hospital. He didn't understand how Zeke could possibly ok with poisoning? his friend. With Zeke's arm around his waist, he was lead from the hospital. Careful not to make it too obvious he was looking for Levi or Hanji. Zeke wouldn't be happy if he did. Even if he wanted to have some kind of friendship with Hanji, Zeke would never allow it. So there was no point even trying. Glued to Zeke's side, his older brother escorted him to his room. It was the only room in the apartment they shared that had a lockable door, for which Zeke had the key. Being the only omega in a houseful of alphas made things hard, especially when Reiner or Bertholdt would go into a rut, or his own broken heat would come. Sitting down on his bed, Zeke stood in front of him, wrapping an arm around his waist as he placed a hand on his head, stroking his hair "I'll call the club and tell them you're not coming in tonight" "I can dance" "Not if your still in heat" "I get more tips when I'm in heat" "We can't have you ending up in the hospital again" "I'm sorry. I know I made you worry, but I don't have proper heats and..." "And what? What do you need the money for? I can buy you whatever you need. Is there some alpha you like?" Eren flinched as Zeke's anger flared, glad his face was in line with Zeke's stomach "No. I swear to you there isn't" "Then why, Eren? Haven't I always taken care of you?" "You always take care of me. I don't know what I'd do without you. I just don't want you working so hard. I worry about you" None of that sentence was strictly true. Zeke hadn't always taken care of him. He didn't even know he had a brother until after all the shit in his childhood went down and Zeke walked into his life like it was his right. If Zeke wasn't there, he could actually have a life. He could dance somewhere nicer than the club... and he definitely didn't worry about Zeke, unless it was about his cruel side "Are you saying I'm weak?" Fuck. He'd said the wrong thing "No! No. You're strong. I know you're strong. But you're all I have left" His brother sighed softly "Alright. Take a shower and then get some sleep. I'll take care of everything" Zeke kissed the top of his head. He hated the way his brother fawned over him. When he kissed him, or insisted he sit on his lap, his stomach filled and he wanted to hurl. Zeke had done a lot for him, but his touch always felt wrong. Not that he knew what was right. It made him grateful for his messed up heats and scent from years on suppressants, as well as childhood trauma that he couldn't forget however hard he tried "Thank you" "You're welcome" Kissing his hair again, Zeke left. Eren flopping back on his white doona. He hated his room. Nothing felt like his own, as Zeke had chosen everything for him. From what he ate, down to how he dressed, Zeke chose it all. When he'd been hurt at work, his brother had bought him concealer to hide the nasty red scarring that formed from the wound getting infected. He'd been so mad over the whole thing, that Eren hadn't dared tell him he was sick. He couldn't make Zeke madder and he couldn't make him worry. He should be grateful he had a warm bed and a roof over his head. So why did he feel so trapped? Why was he so envious as he looked down the groups of alphas and betas as they drank with their friends. He'd used to have friends... but that was so long ago... No. He wasn't going there. He had Zeke and Zeke would keep him safe. * Having crawled into bed and passed out, Zeke woke him for lunch. He liked to watch his weight and figure, but lunch was always a banana and coffee. His stomach never really felt full, and it was only on his way to work that he got to actually eat a decent meal. Since the new cafe had opened near the strip club, he'd become a regular. Everything they made tasted amazing, and he could eat as much as he liked without being watched and made to feel guilty. Slipping onto the breakfast stool, he forced his trademark smile as he picked up his mug of coffee. The mug was probably the only thing in the whole house he'd chosen for himself. With pink rabbits on it, there was no chance that he'd have to share it with the others. It was far too omegary for his big strong alphas "I called the club for you, they said you can come in earlier for your shift" Eren nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. Schooling his features, he nodded "That should be fine. What time do I need to be there?" "From 4 till 8. I'll pick you up after work, so you don't have to worry about walking home" That meant he'd be working the 5 o'clock sleeze hour. Where alphas finishing work trickled in between 5 and 6 before running home to their waiting partners. It wasn't exactly his most favourite shift. No one got drunk enough to tip him decently, no matter how many tricks he spun on the pole "Do you have work?" "Not today. I told them my brother was sick" "You didn't have to do that" "I know, but someone's gotta keep an eye on you" Eren nodded, placing his mug down as he grabbed the banana from beside it "You're not going to ask about Bertholdt?" Fuck. Was he supposed to? He should have asked... why was he so fucking useless?! "Sorry. I'm still waking up" "It's fine. He's fine. They said it was just gastro" It definitely wasn't just gastro... "Oh. Is he coming home today?" "Tomorrow. Reiner will be bringing him back" If Reiner and Bertholdt really wanted to, Eren was sure the pair of them could easily take Zeke. He didn't know Zeke held over them to keep them so loyal, so wisely kept his mouth shut. Nodding, he tried to look like he didn't care "I have some things I need to take care of, so make sure you get some more rest before you leave" Walking over, Zeke dropped a light kiss to the top of his head before heading towards his room. Getting rest didn't mean actually resting. It meant getting off his arse and doing the housework before he left. Zeke liked things neat and organised, but felt things like cleaning were beneath him. Reiner and Bertholdt weren't total slobs, but they seemed to lack the basic brain cells of how to put their own dishes in the dishwasher. He couldn't understand it. They literally placed their dishes on the bench above the dishwasher. There were only a few more centimetres to go and they'd magically be in the dishwasher, but somehow they just kept falling short. It was ridiculously frustrating. Each time it happened he wanted to yell at the pair, only, that would lead to Zeke getting mad and in comparison, a few dirty dishes didn't seem that bad. Managing to get the load of dishes done, he'd also done a general tidy up of the apartment as well doing one load of washing, putting a second on as the first went into the dryer. He'd vacuumed and mopped, then doused the whole apartment in scent cancelling spray. It wasn't like he liked cleaning, but omega's were basically domestic bitches who only existed to make sure alphas lived in comfort. Every aspect of his life was controlled by alphas, as it had been since the death of his mother. After that, everything had gone to shit, and he'd learnt that no matter how many dreams he had, none of them would ever come true. He might still have the occasional wish... like running into Levi again, but even if he dreamed of dating him, that would never happen. Zeke would hunt Levi down, even if the man and Hanji had saved his life. So it was safer he stayed away from the gorgeous alpha with eyes so silver he was sure they couldn't be human. Levi was so far out of his league, he couldn't even see him, and if they did get together it wasn't like Eren had much to offer him. He was just himself. All he had was his looks, which would only last until he got knocked up. Once that happened, he wouldn't be able to dance anymore and he'd lose everything he'd carefully constructed for himself under Zeke's watch. Even with his fucked up heats, he was fertile and honestly lucky to have made as long as he had without falling pregnant. Not that he'd found anyone he'd willingly sleep with. Part of him was still a stupid romantic, which he liked to blame on his traitorous omega side. Seriously. His omega was an arsehole. After meeting Levi, his stupid heat had come and those grey eyes of his hadn't left his mind. Even when he had the rare chance of dressing himself, he found himself subconsciously choosing a mostly grey outfit because of those eyes. He was fucking cursed by them. With the house cleaned, Eren showered and shaved. Being an omega meant little body hair, but his boss was likely to dock his pay if he just left it. As it was, his costumes were ridiculous, and the name "Angel" he'd been gifted left him wanting to burst out laughing every time he heard it. He was no angel. Unless it was an angel of destruction as he'd destroyed everything that ever meant anything to him, by presenting as an omega at the age of 8. Dressing in a pair of black boxer-briefs and grey sweats, he massaged in a generous handful of glittery moisturiser, making sure not to get any on the site he had to cover with concealer. The day he could finally kiss the glitter goodbye, would be the happiest of his life. It was the herpes of the dressing room, leaving him glitter on almost every article of clothing he owned. He had to wash all things separately so it didn't cover everyone else's clothes, followed by a soapy rinse to get the extra off the washing machine barrel. He'd accidentally washed Reiner's shirt with him things once and Zeke had lost his shit over how he'd been betrayed by Reiner, because he'd been fucking his little brother and didn't the balls to tell him. Even with him rushing to explain that the shirt had come straight from wash, and that Reiner hadn't even had the chance to put it on, Zeke had still been furious. Mid-routine, he jumped as the bathroom door opened and Zeke wandered in "Glitter again?" "Yeah. I know. Hopefully we'll be changing my act soon. This stuff is horrible" "If it's horrible, don't wear it" "It's fine. The customers love the sparkle" Snatching the tube from him, Zeke threw it across the room before taking him by the arm and shoving him into the shower "Wash that shit off" "It's fine, it's only for a few hours" "No. If you don't want to wear it, don't" Cranking the taps, Zeke's hand slipped further on the hot than the cold. With the warm water already in the system, Eren yelped as he tried to escape the boiling water, very nearly going through the glass shower wall in his haste "Fuck! Eren..." Turning the hot back, Zeke held his under the water until he finally deemed it acceptable and guided him back under it "Did you get burnt?" "N-no. I'm sorry. It was more the shock" And not the boiling hot water hitting his face "I'll get you a change of clothes and help you with your hair" Nodding stiffly, he waited until Zeke left before turning the hot down further. He shouldn't have mentioned the glitter. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut a little longer. Keep the cracks from for a little longer. Then he'd be out the house and walking to work. When Zeke returned, he ignored his personal space. His brother drying him down as if he were a child and not nearly 20 "I'll take you to work and watch you tonight" "You don't need to do that" "You just had a scare. We both know how frail omegas can be about such things" No. He just got fucking burnt because his overbearing brother couldn't back the fuck off "Ok... I don't think it'll be too busy" "Good. I know you don't like people or crowds that much" He actually loved people. It was just his anxieties that made it hard to be around them. Things like being touched always made him jump and flinch. Even it was Zeke doing the touching, though his touches affected him in a different kind of revolt. Zeke knew his past and still hugged him like none of it happened "Thanks" * Dancing in front of Zeke was uncomfortable. The whole last week of having his brother watching him was uncomfortable. Dancing in front of Zeke while wearing a tacky schoolgirl outfit... that was just... he would have taken being stabbed rather than having to expose himself like that in front of his brother. The sheer underwear he was forced into literally covered nothing. It might as well have been dental floss for how small it was, while the mesh shorts he had over it was just as fucking bad. He usually loved performing. He loved the bass vibrating the stage. The way the music made his heart race and the way he felt so disconnected from reality. When he was dancing on the stage, they could all look at him, but they never got to touch. He was in the one in control and even if he was stuck doing this kind of dancing, it was better than sitting and waiting to die. Pulling off his tiny shirt, he threw the item to his brother. If he hadn't, Zeke would have been mad. Spinning slowly, his hands slid up his chest, massaging at his nonexistent breasts beneath his crop top, before sliding them down to skirt. He had nothing against female clothes, but he was a guy and sometimes he wanted to fucking dress like one. Pulling on the hem, his eyes met Zeke's as his brother growled in warning. Right. Modesty. Giving the waiting alphas a wink, he stalked confidently to the stripped pole at the end of the stage, hooking one leg around it as his hands gripped the smooth metal. He wasn't supposed to be working the pole, but the money was so fucking good. He'd once had a dream that he could save every sent and run away to a new life, but he couldn't do that to Zeke. Not when he'd done so much. Lifting himself, he span nimbly as he ascended the pole, before using just the one leg to hold his weight and dropping so his back was flush with the metal. Alphas whooped and cheered as he flashed them. Zeke rising from his seat as Eren hastened to pull himself up. Sliding down gracefully, before dropping down and crawling to Zeke with his back arched. Grabbing his hand, Zeke hauled off him off the stage "What the fuck was that?" "They wanted a new routine" "I didn't raise you to be a whore" "I'm not a whore" "I don't want to fucking hear it. I refuse to let you dance while exposing everything. You should know better than that" "I'm just doing as I'm told" "You don't need to listen to them. You need to listen to me, and right now, we're going home. I am so beyond disappointed with you" Zeke had said plenty of things before, but he'd never gone as far as to tell him how disappointed him in he was. Being punched in the face he could deal with. Being thrown down a flight of stairs, he could live with. But Zeke telling him he was disappointed in him... it left him feeling physically ill. His anxieties coming to the surface as Zeke carried him out the club and to his car. He'd never gone this far before. He'd never pulled off the stage and carted him home before. And the look in his brother's eyes... it was like he was about to explode in anger. All he'd been doing was dancing to his new routine. There were worse outfits he could be wearing. There were worse moves he could be making. Dancing his was his escape and now his escape had been taken from him. Zeke simmered in silent anger until the got home. His brother's hold on his arm was hard enough that Eren was sure it was bruise, but the alpha didn't let up. Dragged through to his room, he was thrown on his bed, legs landing open so he was flashing his brother. Grabbing the end of his skirt, he tried to cover himself up "So now you're ashamed. God dammit, Eren! I can't believe you. Do you know how much money and time I've invested into you?! Who took you in when you had nowhere to go? After dad skipped town? I did. And this is how you repay me?! I'm done with your shit. How many alphas have you let touch you?! How many have you given it up to?! I thought you were better than some common omega whore" Tears welled in his eyes, a whine of shame coming from his lips as his body shook. Zeke was the only one in the world he had "I put up with all your omega bullshit and this is how you repay me?!" "N-no, Zeke... please..." "I don't want to see you. Stay in here and think about how much of a fucking disappoint you are" Slamming the door behind him, Zeke left him there to cry. His brother knew he hated being confined. He knew he feared being a bother and feared letting him down, yet he'd gone and thrown all of it back in his face. Zeke had only been gone a few minutes when there was a small knock on the door. Sniffling, he wiped at his face "Come in" Sticking his head in, Bertholdt gave him a smile that made him feel worse "What happened?" "I don't want to talk about it" "You look miserable" "Just work stuff. It doesn't matter" "Reiner and I are off tonight. Why don't you come have a few drinks with us in the living room" "No. It's ok. Zeke will get mad" "He's already left" "I should stay here..." "Just have a few. You don't even need to get drunk" "I think I want to get some sleep" "Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find us" Closing his door, Eren was glad Bertholdt was gone. He didn't really talk to him and Reiner. They'd talked, but... the pair were kind of a mystery and sometimes they scared him just as much as Zeke did. Both of them were strong alphas, so he had no idea how they made their relationship. Having changed and tried to sleep, every noise in the apartment made him jump. His stomach was rumbling with hunger, as Zeke had been taking him to work for the last week. He didn't know what he'd done to upset him, or why Zeke wouldn't let him go alone... No one touched him. That one incident had been the bloodiest thing that had ever happened in the last two years of dancing there... If it'd just been that day they'd been at the hospital he'd understand because Zeke wanted to keep him safe and didn't like Hanji or Levi... Maybe Zeke... Maybe Zeke was preparing to leave him? Maybe he had to leave and their fight had cut their time together short? Maybe he left without even saying goodbye? Scrambling out of bed, he tried to appear normal as he crept from his room and into the living room. Reiner and Bertholdt were making out on the sofa, the stink of horny alphas making his stomach roll as his stupid body reacted. Breaking from their kiss, Bertholdt's eyes met his, the man placing his hand on Reiner's chest to stop him "Hey Eren, did you decide to join us?" "Um... is Zeke back?" "Not yet" He'd left him... alone with Bertholdt and Reiner... all alone "You should have a few drinks with us. You know, blow off a little steam" "I'm fine... thanks anyway" Jumping over the sofa, Reiner moved to grab him by the shoulders. Flinching, Eren grabbed his arm as he tried to back away "See. You totally need to loosen up. You know us, we aren't going to do anything to you" "Zeke wouldn't like me drinking" "Zeke isn't here" "I'm just going to wait in his room" Reiner sighed "You know it isn't natural. The way he tries to keep you to his side" "You don't know what you're talking about!" Reiner snorted at his snappy tone "It's a shame Eren..." "Let me go, or I'll tell Zeke" Staring Reiner in the eyes, he didn't back down. Reiner slowly released the hold on his shoulders, Eren darting past him the moment he was free "Reiner, did you have to go that far?" "You're just too scared of Zeke to admit..." Whatever Reiner was going to reply was cut off by Eren scrambling into Zeke's room, slamming the door closed behind him. His own room would have been safer, but Zeke would be able to smell if either Reiner or Bertholdt entered. Padding across to Zeke's bed, Eren climbed under the covers. He knew Zeke was possessive of him, and that their relationship wasn't normal. But Reiner had never said that to him before... Maybe it was just the alcohol talking? He didn't know... he wanted Zeke. Burying his face in his brother's pillow, the scent filled his nose as he started to sob. He hated all of this. He hated being trapped. He hated that he needed Zeke so much and he hated him for leaving him alone.

[colitisandme]

Another day another occasion when I want to swear into my pillow and curse my unco-operative and inconsiderate bowels. During the last few months I felt confident that I had tamed my stomach and bowels wild ways, put in time outs when it had been disrespectful and naughty, took away its treats, and gradually taught it not to be angry in public. But just when I thought it was safe to be left to it’s own devices, I go to bed and in the morning and like a naughty puppy, found it had chewed up the rule book, gnawed on the toilet roll, farted on my supplements and has gone outside and eaten, what I can only conclude, a bucket of gravel as my belly feels like it is full of tiny stones and my belly is spasming so fast I may as well be sold as a pleasure toy at an adult only store. 😳😳

If you have read my posts on my page, you may be aware that I have reduced my hours at work. This was a ridiculously hard decision, and I had changed my mind so many times, however after repeatedly starting my day looking like someone had shoved a cactus up my bum (wide eyed, slightly surprised, hair on end and tattered) like I had been running on a treadmill for about a week, eternally grateful that we didn’t have video phone, and silently crying every time I reached Sunday, as I knew I had to will and drag my ailing body to make it through just one more week losing my speech, shaking and cursing weekends for not having 4 days in them. The decision was made for me. Several months later I am now working half the hours I was and my body is screaming at a lower volume than it was. However me, being me is finding this adjustment really tough, especially now my hubby has gone back to working full time in his office as an accountant (he loves numbers, he does) it’s really strange having time to rest and I have this inward dialogue with my self that goes as follows: “tomorrow you have to rest... ah but not for too long as you will start resembling a couch potato, and don’t forget your kitchen is starting to resemble a scene from the battle of the Somme and you’ve been meaning to sort out the food cupboards, as that thing you spilt 4 days ago may start attracting wildlife soon... but remember that your body feels like it’s been stretched like chewing gum... so sleep but not for too long, rest but not too much or people will think you’re lazy, do something to work out your brain as on your worst days it sounds like you have been chugging whisky and blowing raspberries.. but not too much ....” and so on and so on. It’s so so hard trying to find that balance where you don’t lose yourself but still look after yourself. And I have not mastered the beast yet.

Oh and don’t even get me started with my feelings on my medical support. As the anger I feel .. well you could bottle it. Sometimes and please,please forgive me for saying this, is that I sometimes wish things were simpler. I wish that I had illnesses which could be treated by a pill and then I would be patted on the head, fed some delicious treats, read a soothing bed time story nestled gently in a soft cocoon of duvet and blankets, understanding, a team of doctors and lovely thoughts and then sang off to sleep, being assured that you will feel better in the morning, and although this is a cycle that is needed to be repeated regularly, it will ultimately do the job. Fibromyalgia is not like that. Sometimes sleep helps sometimes I can snooze for 7 hours, and it will make me feel that I have been awake for 48 hours straight and that I live underwater. Sometimes the Amitriptyline helps, sometimes I can be gnawing on my fist and experiencing spasms until 3am in the morning, sometimes I can engage in a variety of activities and stay upright and then on other occasions, just washing up or cleaning my teeth can make my body feel like it’s run up a mountain, wearing tennis rackets on my feet, whilst an irate and boisterous mountain goat attempts to joyfully butt me back down the mountain like a bowling ball... and you would think a team put in place to help understand pain would be well helpful, understanding and transparent with your treatment and not confuse or make you feel more vulnerable than you were feeling in the first place. But no, my last conversation with my pain team was like having to undergo 15 rounds of question time with Jeremy Paxman. Without going into the whole scenario, the end result is that they have just left me. Struggling and just left alone dealing with a condition designed to make me want to rip my own face off. Ideal.... makes me want to send a poo to their door but that would hurt my poor withered bum too much... Damn you Colin! It comes to something where your imaginative revenge plan is thwarted by the thought that producing said revenge plan would result in tears... So in short I have a Gastro consultant who hasn’t seen me in over 18 months because I have a rare disease he thinks is only found in people over the age of 60 and a team who has completely gone against what they said they were going to do and sling shot me back to my GP... Sometimes there are not enough known swear words to express my opinion about this... but I have expertly come up with several that describe my feelings...

All in all the last few months have been incredibly tough. I am grateful to have my tribe who are all equally as enraged and incredulous as I am. (Thanks Tribe - I love you) and I am still very much in a daily battle with Phyllis to try and instil calm and just sodding will her to just behave and not charge around my body like a bull in a antique China store as well as feeling like every time I need to go to the loo or eat anything, I need to give my arse a pep talk ... but there have been some positives. Positive one - reduced working hours means (once my body settles in it’s new routine) more time for advocacy, more time for Jess - which includes self care, meditation, writing, rest and lots of quality, meaningful time for friends, family, animals, hubby. This is welcomed as often when I reach the weekend... I resemble a cross between stig of the dump, a drunk, someone who has stuck their hands in an electrical socket and a dead duck - (an attractive mix to be sure.) Positive 2- once the world returns back to her/his post apocalyptic state, I am actually gonna have the means to have family to stay. I have not seen my family for a year and that fact hurts my heart. Positive 3 - getting my body prepared to have a baby - which is my main goal and something my heart and soul wants more than cake... and you know how much I love cake. Positive 4 - with all the shenanigans and lack of support from the NHS I reminded how sheer bloody stubborn and resilient I am. So if like me you have had a really befuddling, tough, slurry, maddening, stressful, eye boggling, illness filled few months. I see you. If you are dealing with the unenviable task of trying to become your own personal sales man, trying to speak about your symptoms, diagnosis and trying to muster support from teams who are assigned to you to do that very thing. I see you. If you are dealing with a body ready to explode like a land mine. I see you. I truly do. You are not alone. And If you are dealing with this, the stresses of lockdown, the pain of being away from loved ones, new situations, making goals and feeling a little lost, angry, sore, sweaty, sweaty, grumbly and many other of Snow Whites Dwarves... then please do not deal with it alone. Reach out, practice some self kindness and understanding, write down your feelings, talk to your tribe... after all I know that at the moment we are living in a world that feels like we are trapped in a ball of wool, clawed at by some angry kittens, let’s support each other. After all we are stronger together and together we lift ourselves and others up as well. As my mum says ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ ❤️

[vanessa-0188]

I feel like you make up stuff for attention. Like there's ALWAYS something going on with you to make others feel bad for you.

I wish you'd messaged me with your URL so I could answer this privately, but alas... For clarity, and transparencies sake I'm going to clue you in on a little bit about my life story.I was born at 24 weeks gestation to teenage parents who, frankly, weren't ready to be parents (though I don't know what teens WOULD be). My mom got her shit together pretty rapidly after I was born; my dad was a different story but we'll jump back to him in a second.I, because of premature birth, was born with two underlying conditions that have caused the rest of my health problems. I am not a medical professional, so I am going to google/copy-paste the definition of these conditions here, and then relay to you how they've informed my life.1. Cerebral Palsy: While Cerebral Palsy (pronounced seh-ree-brel pawl-zee) is a blanket term commonly referred to as “CP” and described by loss or impairment of motor function, Cerebral Palsy is actually caused by brain damage. The brain damage is caused by brain injury or abnormal development of the brain that occurs while a child’s brain is still developing — before birth, during birth, or immediately after birth.Cerebral Palsy affects body movement, muscle control, muscle coordination, muscle tone, reflex, posture and balance. It can also impact fine motor skills, gross motor skills and oral motor functioning. (Source: cerebralpalsy.org)2. VATER Syndrome: VACTERL or VATER association is an acronym used to describe a series of characteristics which have been found to occur together... Babies who have been diagnosed as having VACTERL association usually have at least three or more of these individual anomalies. There is a wide range of manifestation of VACTERL association so that the exact incidence within the population is not exactly known, but has been estimated to occur in one in 10,000 to 40,000 newborns. (Source: cincinnatichildrens.org)Cerebral Palsy has left me permanently wheelchair bound (I have 0% walking or standing capabilities), and sometimes causes me motor issues with my hands (I.E. they shake during activities, are never fully non-spastic). As far as VATER I've tried to spare myself a little dignity by omitting the exact definition of the acronym, but google it for your own knowledge if you'd like; I don't have all of the conditions in the acronym, but this syndrome has caused me a lifetime of debilitating gastro-intestinal issues, furthered orthopedic problems, and most damningly- it KILLED my left kidney completely when I was two days old. Suffice it to say my life has never been medically easy.I mentioned before that my dad never really got his shit together to be a dad. My parents never had a formal custody agreement. But my mom did what she thought was right in trying to give my little brother and I opportunity to maintain a relationship with our dad. She'd drop us off with him at our paternal grandmothers house every-other weekend. I could sit here and tell you countless stories of abuse and neglect, but I'll just give you dear-old-dad's greatest-hits:* 1:00a.m. one night when I'm about eight years old (this would make my brother about four). My dad has friends over playing dominoes and drinking. We're awake still. I pipe up, "dad, we're tired, please take us to bed...", He threw a pillow and my head and said "if you're so damn tired make beds for you and [your brother] on the floor. When I protested he came over, knocked me down to a laying position, got inches from my face and screamed "shut the fuck up!"* Again, another friend-gathering. I really REALLY had to pee. He was in the bathroom on the phone. I waited HOURS for him to come out (there was only one bathroom I could use, and I needed his help). When his friends begged him to come help me. I ended up having an accident on the floor. He violently shoved my nose in it like a dog.I never told my mom or teacher or grandparents about any of this because I didn't know any better; I thought that was what all dads did. Until I was 10.* At age 10, on my dads birthday, we wanted to have a dinner for him. My mom obliged, inviting him to our apartment. It was also Super Bowl Sunday... he agreed to come over after he watched the game with his friends. My brother and I were so excited- we made cards and helped my mom bake a cake. That night we picked my dad up from a friends house, drove through and got dinner, and on the way home he and my mom started arguing. We got inside, they served us dinner, my mom set me up on a dining chair to eat, and they went to her room to "talk". Sometime later I heard violent screaming, and instructed my brother to go investigate. I'm sparing my own-psyche and the dignity of the other victims by withholding too-many details but that ended in holes in walls, my mom almost dying in front of me, injuries to my brother,a grade-three concussion for myself, and threats of death for us all by gun violence.I didn't talk to my dad again til I was 22. At that time I was struggling emotionally, longing for a relationship with him, and there were growing-pains at home as I was a young-adult who wanted to live a certain way that didn't conform with my moms house-rules. My dad and I had been in contact again for a short time. After a heated argument with my mother and stepfather (she married when I was 13), my father offered to let me stay with him. Things were great living there, until* One night he decided to push my boundaries, taking a trivial disagreement over taxes and house payments of all things, and bringing my mother into it. My anxiety flaired, and I tried to flee to my room. He followed me, grabbed me by the wheelchair, and held me in place, grabbing my hands and imploring me to hit him. He continued antagonizing me for hours, at one point when I called my mother terrified for my life, he taunted her as well. Through ingenious planning by Sheriffs and family, I was saved with only a split bottom lip and chipped-tooth.(And I guess I should note here that my sperm-donor of a biological father has spent time in jail for abusing us.)I spent time after that trying to heal my soul. Got to a good place in life where I was happy. Moved to my own assisted-living apartment. Then my bladder failed, resulting in me needing a permanent catheter. A month later my remaining kidney failed, resulting in my need for dialysis (for your reference, "The main purpose of dialysis is to help impaired renal function. When your kidneys are damaged, they are no longer able to remove wastes and excess fluid from your bloodstream efficiently. Wastes such as nitrogen and creatinine build up in the bloodstream. If you have been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease (CKD), your doctor will have these levels carefully monitored. Before dialysis, patients often felt weak and ill. Dialysis brings relief from these symptoms. This is the primary benefit of dialysis.Dialysis is done by using a special fluid called dialysate. Dialysate, a mixture of pure water and chemicals, is carefully controlled to pull wastes out of your blood without removing substances your body needs. A semipermeable membrane (one with microscopic holes that allow only certain types of particles to pass through) keeps the blood apart from the dialysate. This membrane lets the wastes and fluid in your blood flow through into the dialysate. Your blood cells and larger molecules, like protein that you need, cannot fit through the holes. There are two main types of kidney dialysis: hemodialysis (HD) and peritoneal dialysis (PD). [Source: DaVita]). I do hemodialysis: three days a week, four hours each time, I go to my dialysis clinic where they hook me up to my dialysis machine. My blood is filtered through a catheter that has been surgically connected to my heart. As I mentioned in my concert post, this process makes me vomit, and can sometimes induce symptoms that make me feel like I'm having a heart-attack. I'm on the transplant list, but due to my various GI surgeries I may not be a viable candidate. Time will tell. If not, I will have to do dialysis for the rest of my life.I had a best friend who, due to things that were my own fault, I've now lost my friendship with. In areas where I lacked support, she was my number one. This loss has been so hard in conjunction with my health issues; I'm grieving it right now.So yes, I'm aware it seems there's always something; that's because unfortunately there is. My life is messy, and complicated as hell. I'm very emotional, and I require a lot of support- something I'm not afraid to reach out for here on tumblr (even if it's in the form of fic distractions). If that bothers you, please scroll by- and if you feel the need to say something on anon, it's probably best left unsaid.Oh, and because we're at this point where you've got me airing dirty laundry, I'll be posting picture proof of some medical problems in my next post (I'm on mobile so I can't do it here 😉)Love Always,Vanessa

[iplaywithstring]

7 years

When I first got sick, I posted about it on facebook. That’s how I know for sure it was 7 years ago. We (myself, my husband, my doctor) thought it was a simple case of anemia, easy enough to fix and the fatigue would go away. I had been sick with a stomach bug in March, and after I recovered I had started going to the gym. Only I couldn’t work out, every time I went I felt worse and was able to do less before I felt like I’d pass out. I started feeling dizzy and exhausted at home. I would space out. I had trouble staying focused. I had trouble carrying the kids. I felt weak, almost like I had the flu, but without any other symptoms - no headache, no fever etc. 

At the time, my daughter was 3.5 and my son was on his way to 2. It was normal for me to feel tired (the girl wasn’t sleeping through the night consistently yet). The fatigue wasn’t a big deal, it was the dizzyness and weakness that drove me crazy. I posted on facebook about it as a way to explain why I was changing plans, why I needed to carpool, why I was having trouble keeping on top of the housework. 

At the time, I was taking antidepressants because I had gone through PPD and wasn’t ready to try going off them yet, just in case. At the time, I was attributing the pelvic pain to SPD. At the time, I really thought all I needed was some iron pills and I’d be fixed. 

Except I wasn’t. My iron went up, but my symptoms got worse. I had other tests, and then more tests, and then more again. I saw a different doctor, and had even more tests. I went on a new antidepressant, then weaned off them completely. There were theories and more tests and still I was sleeping 18 hrs a day and hardly functional when I was awake. 

And then in November, for some reason, things got better. I was given a 4 day run of steroids to see how I reacted, and most of my symptoms went away. The dizzyness and weakness were gone, the fatigue wasn’t nearly as strong, and over time it got better. I got stronger. My doctor told me he wasn’t sure what it was, if it came back it was likely autoimmune, if it didn’t, it must have been viral. 

I went back to the gym, I got a job. I told everyone I was recovered. I had been sick but now I wasn’t. I had gastro issues, I still had pelvic pain, but I was better, I wasn’t sick anymore. I managed the gastro problems through diet, I used light exercise to help deal with the pelvic pain (which I still assumed was from the SPD, even years later). I went on with life. Things were really good for a while. I kept getting blood draws every 6 months or so to check on the anemia - my levels were still generally low even though I was feeling so much better. 

It would come back in spells and I’d blame it on being stressed or not sleeping well, or on eating poorly and dealing with the consequences. The pelvic pain was getting worse and that was my main concern - 3 years ago I was wondering if maybe it was cancer - either my uterus or ovaries - because it would have explained all my symptoms, including the fatigue. I wasn’t working again, and sometimes the pain was so bad I couldn’t function. More doctors appointments, more tests, more waiting, a lot of fighting with my doctor because he wasn’t taking me seriously. I thought the fatigue was a result of the pain and the meds. I thought if I could get the pain under control I’d be well again. 

Last November I finally got my GP to send me to a gynecologist for the pelvic pain. It took her about 10 minutes to diagnose me with endometriosis and discuss treatment options. About 3 weeks into treatment and things were much better. I could walk, sleep, move, function, focus on a conversation and not be distracted by pain. Life was good again. 

But the fatigue is still there, and now there was nothing to blame it on. Now there’s a new doctor, more tests, more waiting. I’m not going out so much in the evenings, I avoid driving, I schedule naps into my day. I adjust my schedule and my expectations and my plans. Just like 7 years ago. I miss things - events, conversations, laughter, moments with friends and family. 

I don’t post on facebook anymore about being sick. A few close friends know, but a lot of people don’t. They only see me on good days, or just after a nap, or for short enough periods of time that I can fake it. Those that do know don’t really get it - they joke about how nice it would be to get a scheduled nap time every day, make helpful comments about this supplement or that exercise. I feel isolated. I feel like I’m failing. My kids are now 10.5 and almost 9. They know on bad days we can’t do some things - friends can’t come over, there can’t be too much noise, that I’m trying to listen and I don’t mean to space out. 

I knit and I spin and I weave because it gives me something to focus on, something to do, something that makes me feel productive without taking too much out of me. It gives me a way to feel like I’m still doing something, but on my worst days I can’t even manage that. I love teaching knitting classes, but it’s getting harder and harder because classes are in the evenings. I love designing, but lately keeping track of numbers and ideas has been really tough. I haven’t even dressed my loom since my last project, because it’s an all day job and I don’t have the energy to spare. 

I don’t post about my illness on facebook anymore, because I don’t want people to think I’m just looking for attention. I know there are lots of people sicker than I am, who have lived with it for longer, who have lost more and suffered more than I have. I don’t talk about it outside of a few people because I don’t want to have to defend myself, because I know I don’t look sick. I don’t share with people because sometimes I really want to be able to pretend I’m normal, even though at the same time i really wish more people understood. The fatigue is isolating, but I’ve also isolated myself. 

This started because of a facebook memory. I wish I could post this there - that I could be honest and open about how things are going, but I can’t. I don’t feel safe making it public, so I’ll just keep it here where people understand, finish my coffee and try to get some chores done before naptime. 

[not-poignant]

Speaking of the stomach symptoms that Ef has to go through, how do you cope with your own symptoms and do you have any protips for dealing with the pain?

Hi anon!

This one's tough, because the cause of the pain can be so multi-factorial. Digestive issues - for the best pain treatment and management - require:

1. A diagnosis 2. Understanding your allergies and intolerances*** (and they are not the same thing) 3. Understanding your triggers

The thing is, a diagnosis can be as good as a cure for some people who are lucky enough have treatable digestive conditions. A person with a finicky digestive system who learns they're gluten intolerant has a cure, even if it's not an easy one (avoid all gluten - symptoms and pain gone! Huzzah!)

Anyone who is having difficult digestive times should, imho, never just leave that as something to self-diagnose and just accept. I get diagnosis is a matter of privilege in some cases, but where it's not, this is one area where you don't want to fuck around and find out. There are literally hundreds of different things it could be, all with different treatments, medications, options, and supports out there. And I do know people who've ended up with severe autoimmune conditions and losing like, feet of their intestinal tracts, or cancer-like conditions, because of chronic diarrhea in particular, because they just 'waited' on the pain they were experiencing in their digestive tract.

And then the rest of this post is mostly like, 'I can't help you because bodies are diverse and 'stomach symptoms like Ef' means hundreds to thousands of different illnesses and hell, I've suggested pain management techniques in that story that you can try right now, and also I can't tolerate any pain treatments so good luck anon but I got nothing.' But like, the long scenic route version.

I can't speak to your issues, anon, because I don't know what your diagnoses are. There's not really many 'idiopathic digestive issue' diseases, but there are a lot of chronic illnesses that can be diagnosed through exclusion that can't be cured. But again, of those - and there are many - I don't know what yours are. And what I have, may not apply to you. It may not even apply to someone with exactly the same symptoms I do.

A person having Efnisien's symptoms could just have some intolerances that could be easily cured by avoiding those foods. Another person might have cancer. Like...you'd be amazed how many diseases cause non-specific and painful cramps and diarrhea. Sometimes it seems like all of them can.

For example, one of my many digestive illnesses is severe medication resistant gastro-esophageal reflux disease. Everyone in my family on my mother's side has it to varying degrees.

My grandma has needed to have two Nissen fundoplication surgeries to survive it, and has taken a proton-pump inhibitor since they were invented to manage it (since the 1980s), and because she's been taking a PPI for 40+ years, her stomach is now also riddled with hundreds of (so far) benign polyps and cysts as a result of the medication that she must take.

She avoids certain foods that I don't have to avoid, but I also need to take more medications than her, my food triggers are different to her food triggers, my brother's food triggers are different to my food triggers and he has the same disease and presumably, with a very similar genetic make up because it comes through the family line. His is very severe like mine, and nearly caused esophageal cancer for going so long untreated (the medication to treat has side effects, but leaving medication-resistant GERD alone can cause cancer of the throat and esophagitis, which my brother has been diagnosed with). My sister also has it. My Mum's is very mild, and she just has to avoid certain foods but needs no medications. And so on and so forth.

So how I manage the pain of just that one digestive disease - for I have more than one - (PPI and H2 receptor antagonist, certain food avoidance, no NSAIDs at all) is different to how my grandmother manages the pain (two surgeries, food avoidance that I don't have to avoid, PPI only), is different to how my mother manages the pain (food avoidance only, and different foods to me), is different to how my sister manages the pain (heat packs). Even the specialists we see are different, and our doctors suggest different management protocols. In that sense, I'm lucky, because my GERD can be medicated and I can generally enjoy eating and not choking on my own stomach every single night. Though I still have 'breakthrough days' where I do wake up choking on my own stomach acid, and have a sore throat / cough for the rest of the day.

So like, I can't take anti-inflammatories for the pain because that affects the stomach lining and mine's already fucked from GERD, but you might be able to. I can't take Buscopan for the pain, but you might be able to. I can't take Immodium on bad days, but you might be able to! Don't get me started on opioids or tramadol, it is very much like my body wants to suffer sometimes, the way I can't tolerate meds that are specifically for pain management. :/ I highly recommend looking up some support groups for the diagnosis/es you have, and seeing what people are recommending.

Because I don't tolerate almost all painkillers, I can't take any pain relief for my digestive illness/es (of which there are like...four, not including doctors thinking that my genetic cancer is causing some of it too, which is just a whole lot of oh well) that isn't just paracetamol (acetaminophen) which doesn't work.

There are no medications that help my chronic diarrhea at the moment, because it doesn't seem to be an autoimmune disease (at least so far, despite flagging for mild autoimmune stuff in every bloodtest I've ever had since I was 18 years old, but that's another story), but if yours is autoimmune in nature, there will be options that aren't pain-medication that may help you, and anything that helps with symptoms also, by default, helps with pain.

Some of my symptoms/pain is stress-triggered (my PTSD and my tumours can cause massive and unusual amounts of adrenaline to dump through my system, and one of the side effects of adrenaline entering the system is diarrhea - it's part of the flight/fight response: digestive disturbance). Therefore, less stress would certainly help me. But one of my specialists just laughed at me gently when I asked him how people stress less. You have to be awfully privileged financially to even try, even without a diagnosis of PTSD. And my tumours will still likely do this to me for the rest of my life, whenever they just feel like manufacturing hormones. They're neuroendocrine tumours, they want to fuck up my hormonal system, lmao.

Basically, anon, your question is kind of too vague to suggest much more than what's in Falling Falling Stars - perhaps some pain killers, perhaps some food avoidance, perhaps some heat or cold packs. Who knows? I have no idea what your diagnoses are, what you can tolerate, and I know what other people use for support, I can't, so I can't speak to how good those things are.

I'm going to level with you, anon. I have no protips for dealing with the pain aside from sucking it up and dealing with it, because I have almost no other options myself except to develop a high pain tolerance (which I have, which is terrible, because it means I wait too long to see doctors for very serious issues, and this has fucked me over more than once - one of my specialists literally yelled at me for it only last year: 'WHY DIDN'T YOU COME IN SOONER, DO YOU NOT TRUST US' which was great).

I'm really hoping you are not in my situation, because my 'dealing with the pain' is a version of 'I am in moderate to significant and sometimes severe pain 24/7 and no one can do anything to help me.' I wish it was only my digestive issues causing that, but the Fibromyalgia is certainly part of that. Sometimes the only way to deal with pain is to see a psychologist, and learn how to live with pain.

Find the support groups for your illness/es anon, they will have big personal lists that everyone is doing, they will be highly diverse and everyone will be doing something different for pain management, from ketamine infusions, to low-dose naltrexone, to ultrasound therapy, to heat packs, to a billion different medications, some for pain, some for your diagnosis. Having a diagnosis will help, because there are medications for specific diseases and disorders, someone with Crohn's will be on a very different cocktail of drugs compared to someone with IBS-D type compared to someone with IBS-mixed type, compared to someone with food intolerances.

And if you're lucky, your issues will be caused by intolerances, in which case you have a cure, even if it's an inconvenient one. But that cure (avoiding the food) can permanently remove the pain in some cases.

I'm sorry I can't be more help. There's just...thousands of things that can cause diarrhea and stomach cramps, and thousands of ways to manage those things. It's too nonspecific, beyond what I've already suggested in Falling Falling Stars. And anything more than that comes with side effects, and it's not good to already strain a digestive system that's strained, when you can potentially avoid it.

*** Please remember that there is almost no way to know your intolerances except through a food elimination diet, and anyone trying to sell you a blood test that tells you otherwise (i.e. naturopaths) is a fucking charlatan. There are, I believe, only 2-3 intolerances that can be read through blood test, one of them is lactose. There is no such thing as an accurate 'intolerance blood panel.' And only an allergist can diagnose allergies (with the exception of coeliac and again probably lactose issues lol), and finally, allergy =/= intolerance. Elimination diets should be overseen with the help of a doctor or specialist or dietician, because they are difficult to do and can cause or exacerbate eating disorders and disordered eating. I am not a doctor, always talk to your doctor about this stuff first, if you're concerned.

[ismokeitsite]

Please Beware of Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome (CHS). It's the worst.

Please Beware of Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome (CHS). It's the worst.

Hi all you ents,

I've been an almost-daily smoker for almost 4 years, but now it's time for me to stop. Let me explain: I love the different effects of all the different strains (Lamb's Bread and GSC are my favorites), using socially with my friends and girlfriend, and I'm very interested in the business of Cannabis and its medicinal uses. I use it recreationally as well as to treat severe chronic back pain. I fully believe that Cannabis is a force for good in this world. It is a part of my life, and I've wanted to work at a dispensary for a long time, which seems impossible now because I won't be able to test the products for my customers and give recommendations. I have my medical card in the state that I'm in, so I've been able to use heavily, consistently and legally for almost 3 years now, with seemingly no consequences.

That all changed last Wednesday. I had to go to the ER twice in 12 hours because I could not stop vomiting and was at risk of death by dehydration and kidney failure. I had been smoking much more than I usually would, 10 to 15 hits of my Pax Era (a super potent cartridge vape, >80-90% THC) per day and a couple joints per day, all day, because my back has been absolutely killing me for the past two weeks (I may have re-injured it). I know this isn't exactly a healthy amount of use. I didn't notice anything for about a week of this. But after I started vomiting for hours on end, I went to the Emergency Room of the Mayo Clinic, one of the United States' most highly-regarded hospitals and medical providers (which I am lucky to live near). The first question they asked after all of my tests to see what was wrong came back negative was "Are you a daily marijuana smoker?" Of course, I said yes. I was then told within the realm of 95% possibility by my attending gastro-intestinal specialist that I may have a disease called Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome, a disease that affects only long-term Cannabis users, people who have smoked for years or decades, almost or at least every single day or other day, from 3 to 7 times per week. I know a lot of you use less, but that amount of use seems pretty typical for many smokers, especially those in legal and medical states and countries, so I know many of you are at risk. It results in severe nausea and vomiting which can last for days and weeks if using THC continues, severe abdominal pain, lack of appetite, weight loss and all of the symptoms of dehydration. These were all my symptoms, but I am still hoping I have Gastritis (a disease with similar symptoms) instead, even though this would mean I was misdiagnosed by some of the most devoted and knowledgeable doctors in the country, which I don't believe is very plausible. It also results in what I can only describe as complete physical agony from vomiting so much. Your throat and esophagus burn like they are on fire from the stomach acid and bile coming back up through them, and this doesn't go away for many hours to days. It may never go away if the victim of CHS continues using THC indefinitely.

The only proven way to cure this disease is to stop smoking marijuana completely (I hope I have Gastritis so I can continue to smoke). People have died from this disease due to acute kidney failure from dehydration from vomiting so much, and it is the only way I know of in which THC has been noted as the immediate cause of death in any medically-documented cases. That is the most scary part. You thought weed couldn't kill? Well it can, and it has, and CHS is what does it. My advice to the daily smokers of this subreddit is to use in moderation, I.E. not every day or even other day, as that has been proven to prevent the disease for a period of years to decades for those who are susceptible to it, and may allow for using THC throughout one's lifetime without developing the disease. I know a lot of you already use in moderation, which is fantastic! You're not really at risk. And not all daily smokers will develop CHS. I think approximately 2/3 to 3/4 of daily smokers won't develop it. But the other 1/3 to 1/4 will. And once you do develop it and start vomiting, it is said to be impossible to smoke again AT ALL without the symptoms re-presenting themselves. That is the worst part for me. I may test myself after a month of detox by smoking a tiny amount just to see if my symptoms come back; I will update you then. There have already been almost 3 million documented cases in the US since the disease was first described in 2004. That is almost 1% of the United States' population, more than the population of the entire country of Armenia. It's getting more and more common as people in legalized regions begin choosing to smoke or use edibles or topicals every day instead of in moderation, which is once or twice a week, and not all day for those one or two times.

I love using Cannabis and the effects of THC. But I overused it. Now I have to stop, I need to stop, because it truly is messing with my health and well-being. And that's not something I'd wish on any of you guys. Please be careful. Moderation is the key to a healthy lifestyle using this drug; use to excess, and you may end up like me and 3 million others.

Submitted September 22, 2019 at 07:49AM by average_consumer_ via reddit

[spoonless-sunflower]

My test results came back negative and my gastro is finally out of tests. He's adamant that I need to see a rheumatologist bc I obviously have some autoimmune stuff going on. I obviously have already but like usual they brushed me aside. I'm going to give the new one a try since he's come recommended from one of the nicest and most thorough doctors I've ever had. My gastro never found anything super substantial but he found a lot of clues and medicated me well enough so that I could eat well again. Hopefully I at least make that much progress with the rheumatologist.

Still, I can't help but be depressed, you know? About ending another doctor cycle after months and having to start a new one again. About trying to stay within my physical limitations and still hurting myself somehow or flaring up. I feel trapped in this body again and I'm tired of grieving about it.

All week I've switched between feeling completely hollow and then suddenly being on the verge of a panic attack. I wish I could at least go back to therapy and have someone to talk to about this. I'm tired of saying the same things to my friends. I talk to Robin about it sometimes and she's supportive but she's not at that point yet where she understands what I want to hear and I feel annoying.

Like what do I even want to hear? I want my pain acknowledged but not made a big deal out of? But I want people to understand that it's a big deal? I don't even know. Any wording that's slightly off makes me feel misunderstood and alone. Robin said once she wished she could take it away from me and feel it herself so I wouldn't have to. I know that was supposed to be nice but it just made me feel like she had NO idea how bad it actually was. She said she'd come visit me at home every day this week but that just made me feel like she's giving too much to cheer me up and I'm afraid she doesn't understand that this isn't something that happens once or twice or every now and then. It's all the time. Forever. You can't go out of your way for me forever. I'll start to become a burden to you and it scares me.

I don't know. I just don't know. I hate this. That stupid "I want to die" feeling is back and I hate it. I don't even want to die. I just want to live better than this. I want it so badly but I'm always cut short.

[blog-gunpowderandsweaters-blog]

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[laurajones91]

09/05/17

So last Saturday i ended up being admitted to the hospital under the surgeons due to infection in my gallbladder. As if i didn't have enough wanker problems. Anyway...I was give 'triple therapy' they called it, so three antibiotics, three times a day, to kill what ever the fuck was making me feel so shit. And apart from maybe they pain settling a bit i still feel awful. I feel so drained and sick all the time like i could literally throw up every two minutes which is awful! I saw a consultant while i was a inpatient who basically said i needed my gallbladder removing and i would have it while i was in he also told me he would be stopping my infliximab until i was 'sorted'. Wish i could be fucking 'sorted' but i think i'm beyond fixable. I bit back at him a little because i was taken a back by the thought of this doctor waltzing in and just taking something away from me that's made me well. I challenged his decision and he said he'd speak to my gastro consultant and come up with a plan. I was discharged on Tuesday and was literally told i'd receive a date in the post for the op. Great i thought 'pre op appointment 32nd december 2099🙄 Ok i'm a drama queen i know!!!! Anyways i chased around the secretaries to try find out if i could have my infliximab on tuesday, like where did i stand? Was i having surgery soon? millions of years later? can i still have my wonder drug? I was called back to say that he actually wants me in on wedneday and he'll whip my gallbladder out! YESSSS!! I have so much going on that i can't wait to check some of the complete shit that's wrote down on my mental list off for good including my shitty health! I can't even write everything i wanted to say in this post because i'm falling asleep hahaha! I'll continue tomorrow when i've got a bit more energy in me and when i'm not feeling like s complete Zombie! xxx