I found the most accurate description for my depression–it feels as though I am being assaulted with the death of a friends’ puppy every day. It is torturous but I can sepperate myself enough from it to survive.
I met friends at a bar tonight. I cannot drink while on my meds. Usually, it is not a problem. Tonight, surrounded by people, I felt so alone. I wanted so badly to be them. It is not the drinking that I desired–it is their freedom I want.
A different lust for freedom came over me yesterday–I saw a woman riding a bike. I imagined myself on my own bike, wind rushing past me, the pavement blurring beneath me. That image caught in my throat. Such a simple thing is beyond me right now.
My mom has a want for freedom as well–she told me the day she glances out the window and sees me running and leaping across our field is the day she can breath easy again. I am not prone to randomly running across fields but I get it. We both need that day to be soon.
Ever since I got back from MD, my med-y induced mania has been back. My sleep has been interrupted too frequently by my unsettled mind and racing heart. My body does not seem to know there is NOT something VERY important that I need to be doing at 4am.
This morning I woke up gasping and big eyed at 6:30am. It is better than 4am, but not an ideal way to feel upon waking up…EVERY MORNING for the past week. It might be time to ask the doctors about tranquilizers…maybe.
My family (dad, mom, Corey) and I began the Whole30 thing a week ago. Actually, this is day 8…WOO! The last two days SUCKED! I was nauseas every time I ate. Today I am still nauseas, but I have a better attitude about it. “It’s good for you, bitch!”, says me to myself in my head. There have been a lot of big sighs.
The upside is my bloating seems to have gone down. It has been difficult for me not to gain weight the last 7 months, so it is really exciting to find something that works to help me lose weight or water (haha)!
My life is terrariums and glitter spray paint this week.
I have been on methotrexate for one month. I still have my hair so I think it is going well.
I could tell you I have spent the last several Mondays nauseas and crabby because of my new drug, but I am tired of being “sick”.
I wish I could be that strong, inspiring, woman who is hiking mountains and raising money for all the babies when the odds are against her, but I don’t even have the emotional strength to write a good blog post.
What I did do this week: I went to goodwill, bought a plastic unicorn, cut a hole in it, spray painted it glittery gold, and I am going to plant a succulent on its butt.
Terrariums and my sparlky unicorn have made me tremendously happy this week!
I am laying in bed on the eve of my year long sobriety, high on vicodin. “You may have a glass of champagne, not weekly, if you have something to celebrate.” Is what the rheumatologist said. Other than that, I am alcohol free while taking the methotrexate.
It should not be that big of a deal, going sober. I drink. I have probably drank more, more recently than I have in the past, because who isn’t already a slight alcoholic while in their early 20s but especially so when going through difficulties.
No, it’s not the quitting drinking that has me bothered, it’s the taking of the last bit of what I have to hide myself from others so I can just hang out that is upsetting. That makes it sound as if I can only be around my peers if we are drinking–that’s not it. It is the last thing that I had to distinguish me from being sick or not sick. Me being able to drink with my friends hides my reality from them. If I am hanging out and drinking, then nothing must be wrong! If I am hanging out and not drinking and have to explain why then the reality of my situation is discovered and I am no longer just Heidi–I am broken Heidi.
My friends aren’t stupid. They all know, or should know, what I am going through. But this “no drinking” is going to unveil a reality I have been trying to hide.
This is my emotional and physical battle. My friends are wonderful and supportive. It’s me. I am trying to hide from myself.
If only I had positive news…
I will begin Methotrexate on Sunday. The most common side effects, she said, are: hair loss, gastric issues, and mouth ulcers. I was given the option of pills or self injections. The self injections are more tolerable than the pills, so I chose injections. I will be on it for a year…She thinks. The good news is I get to start lowering my prednisone dose next month!
I do now know what to expect from this. I am scared. I am tired. I want to be done.
I go to MD in a week. I get to see Joon and Jeannie for two weeks! This will be a good distraction.
“I started the 2400mg Ibuprofen, 25mg Prednisone, and 1.8mg Colchicine 2 weeks ago. I am a bit of a mess. The pain has gone away, but the emotional imbalance I experienced when I was on the higher dose of prednisone has come back. I don’t know if it is the added medications or the inability to cope with what I’m still going through that has me this way. Whatever it is, I hate not having control.”
I wrote that a while ago but never posted it. Emotionally, I am feeling better this week. I still hate the meds.
I have appointments with the cardiologists and rheumatologist next week. I have neck, shoulder, and chest pain–the same pain I experienced with the pericarditis–that began this week and it has me concerned. They will do blood work, some listening, and probably adjust my meds. I hope the pain is not real and I am just being paranoid!
Worst case scenario…my body is no longer responding to the ibuprofen and colchicine and we have to begin methotrexate. It will be okay! I am going to be okay!
Today began with a phone call from the cardiologist who does not say goodbye. I contacted him because I gained 4 lbs in two days which can be an indication of pericardial effusion-fluid around the heart. He wanted me to have an echocardiogram at 1:00, right before seeing rheumatology.
I went to check-in for my echo and there had been no appointment scheduled for me. I was not happy with the cardiologist. The receptionist called around and a technician at the hospital had an opening. We were at the clinic by the river so we jumped on the tram.
While in the waiting room, cardiologist 2 and 3 (cardiologist 1 is still on vacay) walked by and saw me. They both sat down and started asking about my weight gain. Then #2 sat next to me and took one of my hands while #3 kneeled and held one of my feet. They were checking the puffiness, but it was hilarious and I loved it! Them taking that extra moment out of what they were doing to chat with me while I waited restored the faith a little bit.
The echocardiogram was clean–no water on the heart!
Then! Then! The rheumatologist decided she did not want to put me on methotrexate! When I was first diagnosed with pericarditis right after my surgery they put me on a high dose of ibuprofen and also colchicine-an anti-inflammatory used for gout. She felt the cardiologists had not used the colchicine and ibuprofen to its greatest potential. It did not work the first time we tried it, but she is almost doubling the doses. I should know within a week if it is going to work.
The plan is to take the ibuprofen and colchicine along with the prednisone for a month and, if my body is responding well, we will begin tapering off the prednisone.
I cannot wait for the pain to be gone and to begin life again! If it works! I hope it works!