Posts Tagged ‘Doctors’

Lucky Seven?

Saturday, July 17th, 2010

642736_lucky_seven

Sorry I’ve been absent from my blog for so long.  I’ve been taking a kind of “vacation” from all things RA, while I am also literally on vacation.  The RA vacation was unintentional.  I’m spending the month at my parents’ house, across the country from where I live, and ever since I got here, I just haven’t felt like dealing with RA.  I’m still taking my meds and everything, but I’ve stopped keeping my health journal, and I’ve been pushing myself a little too hard, trying to feel “normal.”  It’s starting to catch up with me a bit… so here I am, reminding myself that I need to give the RA a little attention.  (Damn… this really interferes with the nice denial streak I had going!)

My rheumatologist recently made the decision to increase my Remicade to seven vials.  I know there have been people on higher dosages, but still, this seems pretty high to me.  It also makes me one of his highest-dosage patients.  I have my fingers crossed that seven will be my lucky number.  I think I’ve been really determined to prove that this is the case, so I’ve been ignoring the slow, creeping return of my symptoms since the infusion.  (The first week, I think, really WAS good.)

 Because of back-to-back UTIs, I wasn’t able to get my infusion when I was supposed to, right before my trip.  So I ended up having to make arrangements to see a new rheumatologist here in the state where my parents live.  My hometown rheumatologist was great about sending him my records and labs, and I also came to the visit prepared with copies and information for him.  I’ve written before about my infusion experiences, and this was a chance to see yet another environment.  But I’ll write about that another time… long story short, it was a basically good experience.

This was the first time I’ve had seven vials, and I was absolutely determined that this time it would work.  I had also just had a landmark birthday the day before the infusion, which doubled my determination.  I feel that in general things have been on an upswing, and the new rheumatologist seemed to think so too.  It’s nice to have fresh eyes looking at your case sometimes, and he said that from my most recent labs and my joint examination, I actually look like things are beginning to be controlled.  There are just two stubborn blood numbers that are going up and not down, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I am getting worse – sometimes blood numbers just do funny things.  I’ve also been questioning things lately, wondering how much of my fatigue and achiness is really the RA as opposed to my recent problems with adrenal insufficiency, or even muscle weakness due to not exercising.  (The adrenal insufficiency, by the way, seems to be reversing itself beautifully, and I am finally off prednisone!  Yay for something good!)

So all of this determination and pondering and questioning have led to a kind of thinking that goes something like this:  My blood numbers look basically very good.  My joints look great.  My AM cortisol and ACTH levels are now in the low normal range instead of the basement.  Going off prednisone, shockingly, did NOT result in a major flare (Hallelujah!).  Therefore… Maybe my RA is not really active right now.  Maybe I need to start testing this a little and find out what’s really up.  Maybe I need to build up some strength after being unable to do things for so long.

I really don’t know whether this is denial or not.  All I can tell you is that I’m not doing so well right now.  And it’s giving me a chance to look at something else: my deep need for an EXPLANATION.  I can’t just accept that I’m feeling tired and achy and cranky – I need a label to put to it.  I can’t make sense out of feeling this way while my inflammation markers are low.  I’ve always had aggressive sero-positive RA.  I am realizing that it must be damn frustrating to be sero-negative, when you feel like crap and know something is wrong and nothing is showing up on labwork.

Interesting… this blog entry has taken a completely different turn than I expected.  I was just going to come on and write a brief note about hoping that seven will be my lucky Remicade number.  Who knew all of this was going on?

I guess that’s why we do this blogging thing…

Hope

Thursday, May 6th, 2010

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

 - Emily Dickinson

I was in the middle of writing a long blog post, but I suddenly erased it.  It was full of medical details and information, and it made me think of this post that WarmSocks over at ∞ itis wrote.  I think it’s great to share medical details on our blogs - this is how we learn things and support each other.  But today, for this topic, getting into the nitty-gritty is really a defense mechanism for me, a way to avoid talking about what I really need to talk about.

My husband and I have decided that we really want another baby.  The post I deleted got into all sorts of complicated medical reasons why this may not be the best idea.  All of that is interesting, but isn’t the main point.  The main point is this:  Yesterday we went to see a high-risk OBGYN for a pre-conception consultation, and came away from the meeting feeling optimistic and hopeful.  We asked him to give us an honest, straightforward assessment of our risks and challenges, and he surprised us by saying that he thinks that our chances of a healthy pregnancy are excellent.  Even better, he made immediate plans to consult with my endocrinologist and rheumatologist to form a plan for my care that will make everyone comfortable.

So unless things change, we are going to try.  We know that we may not succeed, for all of the reasons I outlined in the post I deleted.  :-)   We know going in that it will be high-risk if we do succeed.  We also know that life with two children will be more challenging than life with one, especially if my RA or other conditions worsen.

But right now, I choose to focus on hope.

Was It Just A Remicade Dream?

Friday, April 30th, 2010

Where would you rather sit if you were having a Remicade infusion?  Here:

waiting room chair

Or here?

infusion-chair

Yeah, me too.

I belong to a couple of online RA discussion boards.  Every once in awhile, a frightened Remicade newbie will post a question about the infusion process.  The community generally jumps in with reassuring responses and descriptions of how the whole thing works, describing friendly infusion nurses, recliners, TVs, even snacks.  And I sit there reading them, thinking, “Really?  It doesn’t go that way for me…”

Yesterday, I got to find out how the other half lives.  See, my infusions are normally done in my rheumatologist’s office – a nurse comes in on Thursdays to do them.  But about two weeks ago, I got a call saying that the nurse wouldn’t be available on my scheduled week, and could I move it a week earlier or later?  The other dates, unfortunately, didn’t work for me.  I’ve also been pretty unhappy with my infusion experiences, and have been curious about how other people do it.  So I asked if there was someplace else I could go, and the medical assistant reluctantly said that I could have it done at the hospital.  She did warn me that it would be more expensive, but I thought it would be worthwhile just to see what it was like.

And boy, was it different. 

When I get Remicade at my doctor’s office, this is the drill:

I am shown to one of the regular examining rooms, which are really tiny, and I sit in a wooden chair very much like the one in the first picture except older and shabbier.  Recently, someone moved the furniture around in the examining rooms, so the chair now sits awkwardly behind the open door, where the door bumps my chair if anyone tries to open it wider.  The nurse comes in and starts my IV.  Most of the time, he doesn’t take my vitals, and he never asks me any questions.  Then he hooks up the Remicade bag and leaves.  I generally don’t see him or anyone else again.  I sit and read a book or listen to music on my iPod.  At a certain point, I feel pain in my arm and look up to see that the IV has run completely dry.  So I get up, drag my pole out into the hall, and flag someone down to try to find the nurse.  If he’s not in the middle of something (which he usually is), he comes in, flushes the line with saline, and bandages me up.  Otherwise I wait awhile, then go back into the hall to repeat my request. 

Since he has so many infusion patients in one day and also has another job to get to after he’s done, the infusions have been getting faster and faster – they now take less than an hour and a half.  I’ve told him before that fast infusions make me feel awful, but he claims that the Remicade drug rep told him that speed isn’t an issue, and that some people just react that way to the drug.  (Funny, since I only started reacting badly when he started speeding up – also funny, since other people on the boards say they have the same problem.)  After my infusion, I go down to the car where my husband is waiting.  I am always depressed and shivering and my hands are icy; my husband has to turn the heat on in the car, even if it’s hot out.  I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.  We go home, where I collapse and sleep for hours.  Sometimes I wake up the next day still feeling awful.

 Now, here’s how yesterday went:

I got to the hospital and went up to the infusion room, which turned out to be on the oncology floor.  (I do have to admit that seeing “CANCER CENTER” on the wall when I got out of the elevator did bum me out a bit… the one negative in all of this.)  I walked into the room and saw about four or five blue recliners and two other patients, who were there for chemo.  The nurse, who was incredibly friendly, weighed me and took my blood pressure and temperature.  Then she asked me a whole bunch of questions about how I was feeling and went over my chart.  She had a list of my medications which my rheumatologist’s office had faxed over; about half of them were wrong, and she made the appropriate corrections.  (Okay, this worries me – time to have a talk with them.)  I found an empty recliner, which had a pillow waiting for me and a big table next to it for my things.  I told her that my infusions usually take about an hour and a half but that I don’t do well at that speed.  She reacted with horror and said that the Remicade guidelines are pretty clear on the importance of going slowly to minimize the chance of infusion reactions – she usually takes about three hours.  She started my IV and let me get good and hydrated before hooking up the Remicade bag.

At all times, there was at least one nurse in the room, and all of the nurses I saw were friendly and kind.  They came right over to each of us several times to ask how we were feeling.  They ordered lunch for us from the hospital cafeteria.  Several times, they passed out chocolate, and also offered to go get sodas if we wanted them.  The recliner was really comfortable.  There was a TV, but I didn’t watch it.  Instead, I had a great conversation with the 87-year-old cancer patient in the recliner next to mine – we turned out to share a common interest in opera.  My IV didn’t run dry – the nurse came over before the Remicade bag was completely empty and flushed the line.  I never had to go looking for anyone. 

When I came downstairs and got in the car, my husband remarked on how different I looked.  I was warm and happy and felt cared for.  (The chocolate zinging through my system didn’t hurt either!)  My hands weren’t icy.  I went home and felt mildly tired, not exhausted.  I didn’t need to nap.

Now I don’t know what to do.  I love my rheumatologist; he is smart, kind, spends lots of time with me, takes a team approach to my care instead of dictating to me.  He seems to know everything – I will come to him with what seems like a vague symptom, and he knows immediately which tests to order.  He has come up with some things that seem like they’re completely out of left field, and always turns out to be right.  He is, quite simply, the best doctor I’ve ever had.

But there are problems with his office, more than just my issues with the infusion process.  Twice now, I’ve gone to my infusions expecting my dosage to be raised, and learned that someone forgot to call the insurance to authorize the increase – so I had to stay at the lower dose.  The medications listed on my chart are usually wrong – I’ve called to have a prescription filled and found that someone forgot to note my new medication in my chart, resulting in a delay.  Medications have also been called in at wrong doses or in wrong amounts.  The billing office is more than six months behind – a big problem, since my FSA has deadlines.

I was pathetically grateful for the way I was treated at my infusion yesterday – I was ready to get down and kiss the nurses’ feet.  I almost felt guilty for getting such good care, as if I somehow don’t deserve it because I am not a cancer patient.  I question whether it was worth it, given the difference in cost - am I just being won over by chocolate and kindness?  (I don’t know exactly what the cost difference will be – I’ll know when I get the EOB – but our PPO only pays 90% of costs, so it’s bound to be expensive.)  My husband points out that we always meet the out-of-pocket max on our insurance anyway, and what does it matter if we meet it a little sooner?  My mom points out that infusions are, when you really think about it, a pretty terrible thing to have to go through, and that the least they can do is make the experience as comfortable and pleasant for me as possible.  And what’s wrong with a little chocolate?

I have much to think about.

Insufficient

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010

funny-pictures-cat-is-losing-energy

My doctor is a smart man.

I knew this about him, but I was reminded of it this week.  When I called him with the symptoms I described in my last blog post, I really thought it was because my liver enzymes were elevated.  Last time they were elevated, I felt about like this.  But he knew what to look for.

The tests are back, and the answer is, in fact, adrenal insufficiency.  Both my cortisol and ACTH levels are in the basement, really alarmingly low.  While this can mean something more serious, like a pituitary tumor, the most likely explanation is prednisone overuse.  I’ve done three high tapers since December.  The sad part is, I am still flaring.  So I’ve been exhausting my adrenal and pituitary glands, and it’s not even working.

For right now, the answer seems to be to finish this most recent pred taper, then begin the process of getting off the stuff.  My doctor says that we will have to be very careful about my prednisone use from now on, and he will be monitoring the adrenal situation.  I’m not looking forward to the next several weeks (or, more likely, months).  I am already beyond exhausted, and getting off pred is never a picnic, even when there isn’t this sort of problem.  I know that I can expect a rough road ahead.  And even though I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with prednisone, and some part of me is delighted to put it behind me, it’s still scary wondering how I will cope with flares without it.

There’s also the bigger issue – why is my RA out of control right now?  I’m due for a Remicade infusion in a week and we are going to increase the dosage yet again.  If this doesn’t work, it may be time to say goodbye to this drug.  I am growing concerned that I’ve developed an immunity to it – it almost seems as if it was working better at lower doses.

But for the last week or so, it’s been all about the adrenals.  Yes, my RA is flaring and there’s pain, but the adrenal thing scared the heck out of me.  For a period of several days, I knew that my cortisol was low but was waiting on the ACTH.  All sorts of scary possibilities presented themselves, like Addison’s disease (which, thankfully, I do not have).  So I’ve been tense and exhausted and moody and impossible to live with.

Anyway, we’ll see where things go from here.  I’m seeing the doctor on Monday to talk about all of this.

Oh, and by the way, I wasn’t entirely wrong – my liver enzymes ARE elevated.  But they’re not as high as they were when I was suffering from symptoms last time, and they don’t seem to be responsible for this recent bout of exhaustion.  Still, something else to think about…

Something’s Not Right…

Monday, January 25th, 2010

Just a quick check-in… I don’t really have the energy for a long blog post.  I haven’t been feeling well lately.  I’ve been unusually exhausted for about five days now – sleeping too much, fatigued during the day, unfocused and cranky, having trouble doing the simplest tasks, weak-muscled.  I realize that with RA, saying that I am fatigued is a little like saying that rain is wet.  But somehow, something feels different about this.  I’m also bruising easily.  The last time I felt this way, it turned out that my liver enzymes were elevated.  They never did go back to normal, but they came down a lot… maybe they are back up again.  Or it could be something like anemia, or something else entirely.  It could even be the RA itself – it’s a tricky little bugger, always changing – but I just feel like it’s something else.

Called the rheumatologist about this, and he wants me to come in early for my bloodwork – it was supposed to be on Friday, but he doesn’t want me to wait.  He is adding some adrenal tests.  Since I am in the middle of a high prednisone taper, my second since December, he is worried about adrenal insufficiency.  I really hope this isn’t it.

On another note, my two-year-old picked up a bug – he is throwing up today and has a high fever.  So I’m bracing myself for the same.  This could be very tricky, since I’m supposed to go in early tomorrow for the bloodwork.  (Apparently adrenal tests need to be done first thing in the morning.)  If I’m throwing up, I guess we will have to wait… and if something really is wrong, that could be bad.

Anyway, here’s hoping it’s nothing…

Wagon Train Part One: The Organizational Tools

Friday, December 4th, 2009

As promised, I’m going to be writing about my circle of wagons - the things I do (or don’t do but want to do) to help me manage life with RA. Some of these things are purely practical, some are mental, emotional or spiritual, and some are physical. I’m writing this mostly for myself, as a reminder of my own goals, but maybe some of the ideas will help you too! And I’d love to hear yours along the way.

When you are managing a chronic illness, there’s a lot of information to organize. Call me crazy, but I enjoy reading about other people’s organizational systems – I sometimes pick up new tricks, and sometimes just find validation for what I’m already doing. So here are some of the things I do.

Wagon #1: Health Journal

 Boy, did I resist this one at first.  I think it was my old friend denial again – I didn’t want to admit how major a part of my life my illness had become.  But when I was at various doctors’ offices, I had trouble remembering how long specific symptoms had been going on, how long I had been taking certain meds, etc.  I tried keeping a loose sort of log of symptoms, but found that my information was incomplete – I would often overlook or minimize things that turned out to be important.  So I finally gave in and bought this:

Health Journal

For a long time (and even now sometimes) I jokingly called it “The Hypochondriac’s Dream Journal.”  For each day, it provides two pages of space to write down all kinds of specific information, including front-and-back drawings of a human body for marking places that have pain, skin issues, etc..  My worry was that it would make me intensely focused on my symptoms, and sometimes I think it does do that.  But on the whole, it keeps me organized, and it’s been really useful for those doctor visits.  There’s a section in the back that lets me make notes about questions I want to ask my doctor, so I always go in prepared, and anything he/she asks me can easily be looked up.  It also doubles as a diet journal – there’s a whole section for recording what you eat, with blank columns so that you can choose to track whatever you wish (calories, fat, fiber, WW points, carbs, etc.).

Here’s what the inside looks like:

Health Journal inside

Since it’s designed for people with a variety of conditions, I don’t use all of it – for example, I don’t need to monitor my blood sugar.  I don’t write in it every day, either – just when things change.  Unfortunately, it’s one of the wagons I tend to fall off, especially when things are going badly.  It’s ironic – when I’m flaring, I seem to lose the will to keep this journal going, and that is EXACTLY the time when I most need to be keeping track of symptoms.  Anyway, I’ve started it up again, and ordered a new one for the new year.  I am also making it a goal to view the journal differently – instead of worrying that it will put too much focus on my symptoms, I would like to see it as a place where I can record them so I don’t have to think about them again.  Close the cover of the book and get on with my life…

Now, on to Wagon #2:  Managing my Medications

I haven’t fallen off this wagon, amazingly enough.  It’s been tricky lately because I recently had to start two new meds that must be taken twice a day on an empty stomach, while my other meds are taken twice a day with food.  Since “empty” is defined in this case as “no eating 2-3 hours before or 1 hour after taking,” this means that I now have to remember to take pills FOUR TIMES a day.  The morning dose of the new drugs is easy to handle – I just take them when I wake up and don’t eat for an hour.  The night dose, though, is no fun to schedule, especially if I end up eating dinner late. 

I’m pretty organized with my medications.  I take about 20 pills on an average day; some pills are daily, while others might be taken four times a week, once a week, or once every several weeks (like the Zyrtec I use to pre-medicate before Remicade infusions).  Then there are the “wild cards,” like the times when I have to do a pred taper or take an antibiotic.  I didn’t enjoy opening all the little bottles every day, so I decided to buy a pill kit and stock it every week.  I haven’t gone to a four-a-day one yet – I just keep the bottles for the empty-stomach pills next to my bed.  This is the pill kit I use for all the others:

Pill kit

Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy has a much cooler one, which he shows in this post.  Maybe for Christmas…  (Okay, that was a little depressing – I don’t want a pill kit for Christmas!) 

I found that all of the different pill schedules were getting confusing, so I also designed an Excel spreadsheet to help keep them straight.  I make a new spreadsheet every month – across the top are columns with the names of all the meds, and down the side are the dates.  Then I fill in the quantities of each pill for each day.  This also doubles as a medication record – at a glance, I can know exactly how many months ago I took that antibiotic, or how long I’ve been on a specific med.  I was going to show a picture of one of my spreadsheets here, but it was too big – and besides, I’d rather not post a list of my medications on the internet!  (If you really want to see one of the spreadsheets, you can ask me.)  On Saturday nights, my husband and I get out the spreadsheet and all the bottles and we stock my pill kit together - he opens the bottles for me, hands me the pills, and tells me how much of each one to put in.  Then he double-checks it for me, in case my brain fog has taken over!  Doesn’t that sound like a romantic date?  ;-)    

To help me remember to take my pills, I have recurring alarms set in my cell phone.  (Fortunately, my phone lets me store 5 different alarm times!)  The music I chose for my pill alarms is pretty, almost elfin.  Cheers me up a little, especially when my son dances to it.  Most of the time, I am home at the times when I need to take pills.  For those occasions when I have to be out, I bought myself this pretty little pill box for my purse:

Pill box

When I went onto Amazon.com to buy one, I was amazed by the incredible variety of available pill boxes.  They had them for just about every conceivable interest, and I considered ones with pianos on them, or cats, or ones with amusing photos of bad girls that double as condom holders.  In the end, I picked this one because I liked the image of the healing hands – I’m interested in things like Reiki and other energy healing modalities, and I thought it might be nice to store my pills in a place that gave them a little extra good energy!

Now for Wagon #3:  Keeping Track of Medical Expenses

This wagon could use some serious patching.  Before I had RA, this was something I never thought about.  A bill would arrive from a doctor’s office and I would pay it – simple.  I never thought to look for mistakes, and never looked at the EOBs the insurance company sent – I don’t even think I knew what they were for.  When I started developing multiple medical problems, all of this changed.  Also, we opened a Flexible Spending Account with a credit card attached, and the FSA people started asking us to provide receipts and/or EOBs to justify our expenses.  So it became important to pay attention. 

My insurance company’s website allows clients to download all of their EOBs, so I keep them in my computer and shred the paper ones that come in the mail.  I’d like to go paperless on this, but they haven’t offered that option yet.  Every Monday, I check for new EOBs, look through my inbox for new bills, and compare them.  And yes, I have started to find mistakes.  One doctor billed me twice for the same visit, one for procedures I never had, and the insurance company has occasionally failed to cover things they should.  So there can be quite a lot of work in tracking these things down.  I keep my bills, receipts, and other paperwork in an expanding file folder, which gets bigger all the time.  The FSA information is also online, so I check that too, making sure my payments have cleared and don’t require receipts.  If they do, I get them together for faxing.

I have to admit that I didn’t enjoy starting to check the EOBs.  The first time I saw my Remicade appointment listed as “chemotherapy,” I got pretty upset.  But reality has to be faced…

Even though I’ve gotten better at this, I’m still not good at keeping track of visits and remembering what happened.  My rheumatologist’s billing office is regularly MANY months behind, so by the time I get the bill for a visit, I can’t remember – did I get shots?  Have blood drawn?  Was it a Remicade visit or a regular checkup?  The bills are usually full of mistakes when I compare them to the EOBs, so it would be good to know exactly what really did happen. 

WarmSocks over at ∞ itis recently shared a snippet of the spreadsheet she uses to keep track of her medical visits.  (She has great organizational systems – she’s shared others before.)  What a good idea!  Given that I have spreadsheets for my pills, you would think I would have considered doing this before!  She keeps track of the date of visits, the provider, the purpose, charges, etc.  I’m going to borrow this and start one in the new year.  Since every insurance company handles things differently, I might modify the columns – for example, I have a PPO which covers only 90% of most procedures, so it’s important for me to have a column showing exactly what was done in the visit so I can see if it was charged accurately.  Anyway, thanks, WarmSocks! 

 I also keep copies of all of my lab reports, but have fallen apart a little on this – I designated a binder for them, but keep forgetting to put them in…

By the way, Jenni over at ChronicBabe.com offers a “Chronic Babe Toolkit” that has all kinds of useful suggestions for organizing your information, as well as a weekly “Goodie Bag” newsletter.  You can sign up for them here.