Relapse 2012

Two weeks ago I was doing pretty good. Not taking great care of myself - drinking iced coffee and mixed drinks socially - but I was doing pretty damn good by all accounts. And then I went in for my annual scopes.

Ordinarily I look forward to my annual scopes. I get to take a planned sick day off of work and enjoy the countdown from ten as the knock-out drugs warm me over on the exam table. But this time I wasn't ready to go back to work the next day. As of today I've been out of the office for almost two weeks with a full-blown flare-up.

At first I thought the preparation was taking some time to wear off. I came home and pigged out immediately after the procedures (I get my colonoscopy and endoscopy done at the same time) and felt well enough, until I tried to go to the bathroom and a river ran through me. The next morning saw more of the same and there was little changed by Friday. At this point I had my doctor paged, as per the instructions on my release forms from the endo clinic, but while he sounded concerned his advice was "if you're starting to feel better you're getting better."

By that Sunday I was getting desperate for some relief so I took an Immodium AD. This stemmed the diarrhea, but started me vomiting. On Monday I called the doctor again and he suggested Pepto Bismol, which struck me as overly-simplistic- I'm not exactly consulting a gastroenterologist for over-the-counter solutions.

So J picked some chew tabs up from the corner store and on Tuesday I stepped out to by the old fashioned liquid and some popsicles, as the puking had turned me off to eating solids. The pepto did indeed help continue to slow the flow of the runs, but it also incited a stomach pain that resulted in a two-day festival of shomiting. Every time I'd sit to poop my gut would contract and I'd shoot liquid out of my face and into the sink.

By Wednesday, exactly one week post-procedure, I was done pussy-footing around with Band-Aid fixes and was ready for a real and actual solution. I was missing not only work but school, and in the middle of finals season to boot. The doc had mentioned there was very slight inflammation indicated on my scopes, but nothing that should make me sick. However, he did admit it was possible that the mere act of scoping me had caused the ruckus I was experiencing. I was eager to confirm this and left a message with his office that morning. I eventually got through to the PA, who always has it together. She was kind enough to call me even though she was out of the office that day, and advised me to come in the next day to be seen, or go to the ER. Well, had I any faith in my local ER I probably would have wound up there that night. I was having spasms every hour on the hour and it was excruciating. At one point I tried to camp out on the bathroom floor because I was so tired of the back-and-forth from my bed to the can. By 3am things began to slow down to the point where I was going every two hours and by 7am I was able to sleep for three hours uninterrupted. I was at my doctor's office by noon, and was given IV fluids, and anti-nausea med and prednisone. So I've been on 40mg for the past two weeks, and just started to taper down to 30 today. I have a slight moonface, but leg pains and sleeplessness are my current concerning side-effects. I've been working a few hours a day from home just to help out at the office, but the thought of commuting back to work on Monday is nothing short of intimidating. My boss and my professors have all been understanding, and I'm hoping to get more into the swing of things by next week.

A River Ran Through Me

I'm working on a pretty lengthy update, but long story short I passed more fluid out of my butt in the past week than most people do in a lifetime. GROSS. Tonight I ate solid food for the first time in six days. Cross your fingers and stay tuned for the full story of flare-up 2012.

On Puffy Faces

All this hubub about Ashley Judd's puffy steroid face brought out a little "bitch, please" in me. It surprised me when I felt a twinge of competition over her steroid-induced moon face, but I did. So I present to you:

Before prednisone...

                                                               ...and after.

I'm probably about 6 in the before photo, and about 13 after, so there's admittedly a big gap there. But the before face was basically the same structure until I hit 12 and wound up on 60mg of prednisone for four years.

Besides the obvious detrimental effects of living with a visible deformity, there were unseen physical effects as well. At one point my forehead was as engorged as my cheeks and it was actually painful to keep my eyes open. My weight ballooned to 160lbs (I was and am 5'2) and opted to have a breast reduction when I hit an "e" cup (it was a decision two-years in the making).  Oh, and I had four kidney stones when I was 14. On the plus side, I didn't have my period for about a year and a half.

I was sixteen when I finally came off of the steroids, after a long process of weaning, but I was around 20 by the time I felt the majority of the side-effects finally wore off. However, to this day I am covered with striations across my lower back and around my arm pits, something that I could try to tackle with laser treatments but probably won't. I like to think of them as my tiger stripes. Most people confuse them for tattoos, though I'm not sure how.

I was relatively lucky in terms of how my peers responded to me when I returned to middle school after a two month absence. The closest thing to ridicule I experienced was being called "Marty", in reference to this awful 90's movie in which Martin Short's face swells after being stung by a bee. But that moniker was given to me by a guy who was one of my best friends, and even "went out" with me for a spell, moon face and all. In some ways the moon face was a hugely positive influence on me. It made me a stronger kid who couldn't be bothered with what other people might think. I was too busy enjoying the privilege of eating solid food again to care about my looks, or anyone beyond my family for that matter.

I'm not about to blow smoke and pretend I'm not relieved to have my normal face back, nor can I deny having grown into a vain asshole that my childhood self would be ashamed of; but when I think back to that time of my life I still value the experience and try to remind my jaded, cranky adult self of the lessons learned by my adolescent self. 

Poop attack!

My love for io9.com grows with each and every story they post that involves poop. Above,"A 1793 map of England firing a tsunami of poop at revolutionary France." Amazing, although, considering my French heritage, I wish things were the other way around.

If You Gotta Mess in Texas

...I hope it will be in the port-o-potty sponsored by yours truly! That's right, this Sunday, March 18th the annual GAYBIGAYGAY event will be held in Austin, Texas and one of the big pink pots will be adorned with brown ribbons and tips for pooping your pants courtesy of moi.

I have yet to have the pleasure of attending, but GAYBIGAYGAY a big, queer-friendly outdoor party organized by one of my buddies from college who I guarantee knows how to show you a good time. There will be food and music, and there will even be shuttles to get you to and from the location. Check out their Facebook event page and website for more info, and take lots of photos for me if you go!

Now We're Solid

Ashford & Simpson - Solid by trashfan

Yesterday I ate a substantial amount of solid food for the first time since my cat died. It's mostly been soup, crackers and cheese for six days. But then a friend from California gave me some cookies - medicinal cookies - and boy did I rediscover my appetite. I spent the better half of Sunday stuffing my face. I didn't realize it when I woke up, and I didn't have to go before I left the house, but by the time I got off the train I was high-tailing it to Starbucks for a little public restroom action. I'm pleased to report that my grief diarrhea has subsided. I'm still down and I expect I will be for the next few weeks, or at least until the ashes come back and I've settled all the billing. Death is a hell of a business.

Poop Strong!

Meet Arijit.

Arijit is a 31 year-old PhD student, currently undergoing treatment for stage IV colon cancer. A friend whose husband went to college with him passed along the link to his website, poopstrong.org. I hope you will visit and cross-post to your friends.

In the past year alone Arijit's medical costs have maxed out his insurance provider's lifetime limit, presenting him with the threat of medical bankruptcy. Although he hopes to regain coverage in about six months, treatments in the interim could cost as much as $100,000. To offset costs Arijit has gotten creative by designing "Poop Strong" and "Arijit Loves Me" t-shirts, as well as other merchandise which he sells on his website. Should he receive funds in excess of his medical bills, they will be donated to the University of Arizona Cancer Center Patient Assistant Fund.

I absolutely love Arijit's designs and his sense of humor in the face of what I can only imagine is a thoroughly draining experience. I definitely intend to get myself some Poop Strong merch! Please check out the Poop Strong home page to read more about Arijit and peruse the goods.

Presented Without Comment

via happyplace.com

Let's Talk About Brains

So perhaps you've already read about the angry NYU student who very publicly flipped her lid by cc'ing her entire department on a thread of diversely fonted e-mails. It's brought up a lot of questions about her mental state, political leanings and overall sense of entitlement. A lot of commentors on the blogs that have covered this story have diagnosed the student in question as being bi-polar or schizophrenic. Some who claim to know her dismiss this and say she's not "crazy" at all, just annoying. While I have all sorts of opinions on this, the reason I'm posting about it here is this- who says mental illness has to be a grand diagnosis? I know I've had bouts of anxiety or depression that are more akin to a cold than acute inflammation, and I think these short-term cases of the head-sicks are far more common than typically addressed. I don't mean to imply that mental health issues just come and go or magically disappear, rather that you don't have to be clinically insane or identify as "crazy" to suffer from an episode of mental illness.

A personal anecdote: It's no secret that I take celexa to deal with my anxiety. I tried therapy a few times, and never found the right doctor so, as a college student short on time and in desperate need of a solution, I turned to meds. A few years ago I tried to come off of it, and I became irritable, paranoid and somehow both self-deprecating yet self-aggrandizing. In this time I also happened to try the Nuva Ring for birth control and it made me borderline suicidal. I spent two weeks out of every month thinking about slitting my wrists which is, hands down, the last thing I would ever do to myself. I've never been a cutter and, with the exception of my period, I typically feel faint when I see my own blood. The moment of truth came for me when I was in Florida on a family vacation and I couldn't stop crying when I was sitting on a private beach on a beautiful day. Thankfully I know myself well enough that I was able to say "Okay, this is not me, this is not right, this ring has to come out." I had an awesomely blunt conversation about it with my mother on our flight back, with my poor little brother stuck in the middle seat between us. I've never seen him squirm so much in his life. Ha!

But removing the ring wasn't enough. Although it relieved the more serious symptoms of depression and I no longer found myself thinking about wrist-slitting, I still felt miserable and angry almost all of the time. I had angry delusions of storming-out on my then-job, as if I'd be acting out in the name of the little guy like a corporate martyr.  I usually managed to direct these emotions and only act on them when it came to bitching out my cable company, but that's not to say I didn't also do stupid shit I'm not proud of. I've burned a fair amount of bridges thanks to lapses in my mental health, and clearly I'm not alone. I met with my doctor, went back on my meds, and have been significantly happier since (although I do hope to someday give them up, perhaps when I'm living somewhere less miserable than NYC).

So, going back to this NYU student. Although I've linked to the story, I'm hesitant to go into it in-depth or even include her name here. She may very well be mentally sound and deserve all of the criticism she is getting (she does paint a pretty unflattering picture of herself) but if she is indeed suffering from a wave of mental imbalance then I feel kind of terrible for her. Although she certainly seems to want the attention, she might look back in a year and say "Oh God I wish I knew then that I was making a huge mistake." The Internet is an amazing thing, but it can do a hell of a lot of damage to your reputation and, when mentally ill, even in brief spurts, it can be one of your worst enemies.

**Update** Here's a much more expansive piece on attitudes towards depression that is a worthwhile read and offers some great advice. Thanks to Catherine for writing about her experiences so openly!


Image source: physorg.com

Resopoohtions

1. Work "pooh" into as many words possible
    My love of poop humor is rivaled only by my love of puns. The more I can make the two combine, the better my blogging experience.

2. Reduce my daily average of bowel movements from 4-5 to 1-2
    2a. Stop drinking coffee

3. Be less lazy. 

    I spend all day at a computer, then go home, slump on the couch with my laptop and watch tv. My primary source of exercise is walking to-and-from the subway.

Well, that's not many resopoohtions, but it's a good start. Especially for someone who share's Calvin's views on self-improvement. What about you, readers? Any resopoohtions of note for 2012?



Image credit: Bill Watterson/Universal Press Syndicate