Posts Tagged ‘Flaring’

Musical Interlude

Sunday, May 16th, 2010

CB0629294

It’s been awhile since I wrote a new song.  The last few months have been especially rough - flares, low energy from the adrenal problems I’ve been having, exhaustion and discouragement and malaise.  So I figure, why not make something creative out of it? 

I had some trouble coming up with a title for this one.  It was originally called “Flare Song,” because that’s what it’s about.  Right now the working title is “Hit The Ground,” but I’m not sure about this one either.  Suggestions? 

***Update – I have changed the name to “Easy.”  Thanks, Lene!  This was one of the titles tossing around in my head, but when someone else said it, it just clicked in.

This also marks the debut of Little Martin!

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The Acceptance Experiment

Friday, March 19th, 2010

Bunsen-Beaker-web

I was feeling tired and fed up last week.  I felt that my world was getting smaller all the time because of this stupid RA, and I was sick of it.  Then I read this post by Rheumatoid Arthritis Warrior, and I could really, really relate.  I would have loved to just press that eject button RA Warrior described – just quit the whole damn thing – but, of course, I couldn’t do that.  Still, I needed a break, and badly.

So I started thinking about what kind of break I could take.  I’ve done the Denial Experiment before – the one where I decide that for a week, I will just act as if I don’t have RA and live life like a normal person.  Well, that one never lasts long – by about the third day (often even sooner), my body lets me know that it just ain’t gonna happen.  So what could I do instead?  And exactly what kind of break did I need?

I thought about the things that were bothering me most, and the main thing that jumped out at me was this: RA had become the central fact of my life.  When I wrote about my world getting smaller, one of the things I said was that I no longer had anything to talk about with friends except illness, and that illness just isn’t that interesting a topic to most people.  Also, I know someone who talks about nothing except her aches, pains, and health problems, and I can’t stand to listen to her.  She’s never happy, never positive, and never interesting.  I don’t want to be her.  But lately I have become exactly that person.  (My husband kindly points out that no, I haven’t – the person I’m describing complains but never does anything to try to make it better, and keeps putting off surgery she’s needed for about three years now.  So okay, I’m not EXACTLY the same as her… but still.)

So I decided that RA was just plain getting too much airtime in my life.  My husband agreed that we seemed to spend most of our time talking about it and almost nothing else.  I was getting tired of listening to myself sound whiny.  I was spending too much time every day reading RA blogs and discussion boards.  I was feeling exhausted and burned out and didn’t want to post on my own blog.  I just needed a mental break from the subject of RA.

Here’s what I decided to do:

If denial didn’t work, maybe acceptance would.  Just for a week, I would behave as if I had already reached the acceptance point, and RA had become an integrated part of my life.  I would take my meds every day, do the things I need to do to take care of my health, not push myself too hard or pretend I didn’t have RA.  But I would also stop talking about it.  If I had a bad flare, I would tell my husband that I wasn’t doing well and would ask for help, but then I would stop complaining.  If I talked to a friend and they asked how I was doing, I would give a very short, honest answer like “About the same” and then talk about something else.  I would also stop reading RA blogs and boards, just for a week.  It would be, I hoped, like hitting a reset button.

So how did it go?

First, I learned that I really do complain a LOT.  Complaining words were on the tip of my tongue way too often.  So I think it was good for my marriage and my friendships to cut back on this.  

But it was hard, too.  Really hard.  Three days in, I had a day when I was in a lot of pain, and I didn’t say anything.  By nighttime, I ended up crying.  (I rarely cry.)  My husband gently reminded me that the idea of the experiment was not to pretend I was fine – it was okay to say that I was in pain and needed help.  So I did, and found that saying it once was enough to get what I needed.

I learned that I really DON’T  have enough other things in my life.  It was hard to find things to talk about.  It also felt good when I actually did find topics, and my husband and I had better conversations this week than we have in awhile.  We both really needed to talk about something else, and I think we still do. 

Another discovery was that I really, really, REALLY missed the RA blogs and boards.  They have become a big  part of my life, and cutting them off left me feeling isolated and sad.  I do think that I’m on the computer too much, and that I need to cut back, so I really shouldn’t be checking them as often as I do.  But they serve an important function in my life.   

I’m still not sure exactly what I learned.  I felt both better and worse this week as a result of pushing RA to the background.  I guess the main lesson was one of moderation.  I need the RA online community, but I don’t need to check for new posts several times a day.  I need to vent, but not all the time.  I need to be honest and speak up when I am having trouble, but I don’t need to repeat it over and over.  And when I’m burned out and need a break from the whole thing, the Acceptance Experiment seems to be a better choice than the Denial Experiment.

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Wagon Train Part 2: Let’s Get Physical

Tuesday, December 15th, 2009

In an ironic twist, I have fallen off the wagon-circling wagon.  There are reasons for this, which I may get into in another post.  But for now, I’d like to jump back on and talk a little about my next set of wagons – physical activity.

Exercise is a seriously tricky proposition for a lot of people with RA.  On the one hand, we know that it’s a really important part of maintaining joint health – sometimes it very literally is “move it or lose it.”  On the other hand, when the joints are in flare or already damaged, things can get dangerous.  Another annoying thing about RA is its changeability – the line between just enough activity and too much is razor-thin and seems to move around all the time,  making it hard to stay consistent.  At least it sure works that way for me, and for a lot of other RA folks I know.  So I have to admit that after going SPLAT a few too many times from overdoing, I have erred on the side of doing… well, nothing. 

(Sheepish grin)

I was going to write a somewhat lengthy post that covered all of these different thoughts I’ve had about exercise over the years, but I’m really tired today and so I will get right to the point, which is my plan to change this.  I’m realizing that as time goes by, I’m getting weaker and have less and less energy, and that I’m beginning to have new muscle problems in addition to my usual joint problems.  While I do realize that my illness has a lot to do with this, I want to be proactive about the parts I might be able to influence.  I also want to model something better for my boy than a sedentary lifestyle.  So here are the wagons I plan to start circling:

Wagon #1: Water exercise

Esther WIlliams

(Okay, so I may never be Esther Williams, but I think the picture is cute!)

A long time ago, my rheumatologist said that swimming would be good for my joints.  Problem – my “swimming” is really more like “trying-not-to-drown.”  So then he suggested low-impact water exercise – for example, the Arthritis Foundation Aquatics Program (AFAP), which offers gentle range-of-motion exercises for people with all different forms of arthritis.  I learned that it was offered at several different local YMCA’s, as well as a few other places.  Around the same time, my husband and I thought that it would be a good idea for our son to take baby swimming lessons.  One of our friends had taken her son to the Y, so we checked it out.  And then, in one of those beautiful events of synchronicity that makes you think things are meant to be, we saw it:

AFAP class and Infant Swim, Saturday mornings, same time, same pool.

So off we went on Saturday mornings for a little family exercise.  At first I felt a bit ridiculous, since I was by far the youngest person in my AFAP class.  It was a little awkward explaining to people why I was there, since most of them were osteoarthritis patients.  But it didn’t take long to get comfortable, and I really enjoyed the sensation of being in the water, which is kept at a soothing 90 degrees.  And it was so sweet to look across the pool and see my baby splashing away in my husband’s arms, loving his swimming class.  He was a natural water baby right from the start.  Sometimes he would catch sight of me, and I could see him laughing and saying, “Mama!”  The little old ladies in the class loved seeing him, too.  And I liked knowing that his father and I were being good models for him.

Unfortunately, I had to stop going to class for a loooooooooooooong time because of problems with non-healing wounds and repeated infections – a really unpleasant story I won’t share here right now.  (Fun times, let me tell you - aren’t immunosuppressant meds great?)  Then we just got busy and involved with other things.  But two weeks ago, we decided to start going back.  This time we joined the Y as a family (we were guests before) as part of a bigger commitment to exercise.  The AFAP classes are free to Y members, and the Y also offers free childcare to members while they are working out, so I would like to start going more than once a week.  (That’s if my son, now a toddler, will cooperate with the childcare thing – something we are working on.)  I’m also encouraging my husband to start swimming during the week - he likes it and hasn’t done it in years.  And we’ll keep up our family Saturdays, which are good for all of us. 

Well, I was going to write more – there are at least three more wagons in this particular part of the circle – but to tell the truth, I’m in a lot of pain today, and I’d still like to get something posted.  So I’ll sign off here, and tell you about the others when I’m able.

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Circling the Wagons

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

circlethewagons

Lately I have fallen off the wagon.

Actually, I have fallen off several wagons. Which, come to think of it, may be part of the problem – with RA, there are just so damned many wagons. So many little things that need to be done every day to stay healthy, stay mobile, stay active, stay positive. It’s hard to keep track of all these things, and easy to forget them. When I’m flaring and the brain fog descends, it can become almost impossible.

There’s also an element of rebellion here. I resent the fact that my life has become so structured. I was a random kind of person before I had RA. Not that this was a good thing, but in my mind, it went with my identity as a musician. Keeping strange work hours that changed from day to day, grabbing food on the run, being a night owl, being able to sustain long obsessive bursts of creative activity… I miss these things, even if they weren’t necessarily the things that make a healthy life.

In old Western movies, people would circle the wagons to protect themselves from outside attackers. Well, the RA and its related problems have taken advantage of my lapses and have been attacking again. It’s time for me to circle my wagons – but first I should take a look at what they are.

So the next few blog entries will probably be my wagon train – a description of all the different things I do (or don’t do) to stay well. Instead of focusing on how I’ve fallen off of them in the past, I’d like to picture them circling, protecting me. Instead of seeing an endless string of one wagon after another, I’d like to see them as a unit, all parts of the same whole.

What are some of your wagons, and how do you keep yourself from falling off?

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Please stand by…

Sunday, September 27th, 2009

ColorBars2

Just popping in to say hello… I don’t want to abandon my blog!  I have a lot of things I want to write about these days – thoughts on living healthier and better with RA, thoughts on music and identity, questions I’m having about my approach to the disease, etc. etc. etc.  But the truth is, I’m feeling pretty terrible, and can’t seem to bring myself to write about any of these things just yet.  I also really don’t feel like writing about feeling terrible right now. 

I’m seeing my rheumatologist tomorrow, and then I am scheduled to get my next Remicade infusion on Thursday, so I’m hoping that this will be my lowest point – it’s not uncommon for me to feel awful when I’m due for Remicade.  One of the things I want to discuss with the doctor tomorrow is moving the infusions closer together.  Right now I get them every eight weeks, but I start going downhill between weeks 5 and 6, and am in bad, bad shape by this point.

Here’s hoping I’ll be back soon, doing better and ready to write!

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Prednisone 3, Me 0 – Or: I fought the Pred and the Pred won

Wednesday, September 16th, 2009

brownies

This weekend, still on much-higher-than-usual doses of prednisone and flaring anyway, I gained three pounds in three days.

I learned something new about my buddy Pred this weekend. I knew that prednisone made my appetite rage out of control, that it seemed to make food taste more delicious than usual, and that it messed with my metabolism so that I would stop losing weight even during times of complete faithfulness to a weight-loss diet.  What I didn’t realize before, though, was that it could actually CHANGE MY THINKING.  I developed an amazing new ability to rationalize my eating choices, and the arguments seemed completely convincing at the time.  My resistance was extra-low to these suggestions because of the stress, the flaring, and busyness of the weekend.  So, at the risk of sounding like a crazy person, here’s my weekend, viewed from both my perspective and that of my pal Pred:

FRIDAY

Me:  My younger sister and her husband (let’s call them The Kids) came to visit us from across the country, arriving late on Thursday night.  On Friday morning I had to go in to have fasting labs drawn, so we decided that we’d all have breakfast out after my trip to the doctor.  I thought about places that were close to the doctor’s office, and came up with Denny’s.  I also knew that The Kids really like Denny’s, so it made sense, and off we went.

Pred:  Hey, you know what would be a great idea for breakfast?  Denny’s!  Remember last time The Kids were here, they were saying that they don’t have a Denny’s anywhere near them, and they really, really love it?  See, you’re just being a good hostess if you take them!  Since you didn’t make breakfast at your house, really, you owe them!  Don’t worry – there are healthy things you can eat there…  (After arriving at Denny’s:)  Wow, look at that!  You can build your own Grand Slam with any four things you like!  That way you can have a little of each thing – you don’t have to eat it all!  And it’s such a good deal, it just makes economic sense!  Hey, there are chocolate chip pancakes on the kids’ menu – I wonder if they’d throw some chocolate chips into YOUR pancakes?  (They did.  And yes, I ate the whole thing.)

Me:  We spent the day at the beach and had a great time.  Then we decided to have lunch at my favorite Mexican place, known for its decadent white cheese sauce.

Pred:  We all got lots of exercise at the beach, so you can afford this!  Besides, it’s a special occasion!  MMMMMMMMMMM…. white sauce!!!!!!!!

Me:  We went to a poker party at a friend’s house.  It was lots of fun!  We stayed up a bit too late and got very tired, but it’s so unusual for us to do this that it was worth it.

Pred:  Pizza and chips and cream soda – yay!  Oh, look – oatmeal chocolate chip cookies!  The hostess made them herself – she worked so hard!  She’s eight months pregnant, too, so eating them is really a way of showing support for her and her hard work.  MMMMMMMMMMMM…. cookies!  Hey, is that a flush?  That’s a great hand – you should celebrate!  Have another cookie, or three!

SATURDAY:

Me:  On Saturday morning, we were all exhausted and slept too late.  We were rushing to get to a friend’s Jewish naming ceremony (for both herself and her daughter), and stopped at Starbucks to get The Kids their coffee.  (I don’t drink coffee.)

Pred:  Well, you KNOW you have to take your pills, and you can’t take them on an empty stomach because it always makes you sick.  We’re here at Starbucks anyway, so you’d better get something here.  Hey, don’t they have chocolate croissants?  You love those!

Me:  The naming ceremony was very beautiful but long, and my toddler made me run around outside after him for most of it.  I was also flaring, and starting to go downhill by the time the lunch reception started – I was exhausted, everything hurt, and Pred had an easy mark.

Pred:  Bagels!  Cake!  More cake!  You worked really hard this morning running after your son – you need your nourishment!  Wow, that cake is good.  The pieces are small – another one won’t matter much!

Me:  After the ceremony we all went home.  My husband had been slammed with a work project and was sequestered in our office, and The Kids took a nap, so I ran around after the toddler some more, steadily going downhill.  At 6:00 my friend was hosting a dinner reception for the naming ceremony, and I had been looking forward to it – but by the time it rolled around, I was flaring badly, running a fever, and exhausted.  My toddler was throwing a major tantrum and my husband still had work to do, so The Kids went without us.  I burst into tears after they left, then spent the evening on the couch trying to comfort myself.

Pred:  You poor, poor thing.  RA is so awful, isn’t it?  I know how much you want to be out with your friends.  It’s just so unfair that you have to be here feeling terrible while everyone else is having fun.  It’s not like The Kids come to visit every day, either!  Gee, I hope the hostess isn’t upset with you for missing her party…  Hey, you know what always makes you feel better?  Baking.  Isn’t baking soothing?  You’ve loved doing it since you were a kid.  You don’t have to eat that much of what you make – The Kids are here to help with that!  What about that amazing brownie recipe your friend posted in her blog?  The really fudgy one that adds half a bag of Ghirardelli chips to the batter?  Wouldn’t that make you feel better?

SUNDAY

I’m not even going to talk about Sunday – let’s just say there were brownies for breakfast, a 3-year-old’s birthday party, a trip to the zoo involving zoo hot dogs, and a drive-thru taco shop.  White flag waving.

My weekend was very stressful, but totally worth it – I had a great time with great people.  Now I’m just making peace with the trade-off, which is increased pain, fatigue, and these three extra pounds.  Sometimes you just gotta live with it.  Even though the weekend is over and things are returning to normal, I can still hear Pred’s siren call.  There are no more brownies for breakfast, and I am gradually wrestling it under control, but I’m not completely back on the wagon yet.  Flaring worse than ever, which makes it harder, and struggling to deal emotionally with some bad lab results, too – see the excuses Pred will seize?  But even though I’m losing this fight, I think it’s worth documenting – first of all, because it’s the truth, and second, because becoming aware of Pred’s voice in my head helps me to separate it from the other parts of me that want different things.

Either that or I’m just losing my mind.  :-P

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My Tango With Prednisone

Tuesday, September 8th, 2009

tango 

Well, here we are again – prednisone and me.  I have been flaring for more than a week now, resisting going up on my pred.  But yesterday was a real low point – I was exhausted and cranky all day, and eventually my fingers got so swollen that an alarming-looking red bulbous thing popped up around my wedding and engagement rings.  It hurt so much that I was worried I’d have to get my rings cut off.  Also, my husband should be nominated for sainthood at this point – my brain fog was so thick that I had trouble making myself clear about anything, and kept getting angry at him for not understanding me.  I also cried when he teased me about the rings, which I don’t do when I’m feeling normal.  So I finally gave in and started a prednisone taper.

In looking for an image to express my relationship with prednisone, I thought that “battle” sounded too combative, while something like “waltz” sounded too genteel.  The idea of a tango somehow resonated with me, even more so when I read this theory of the history of the dance:

“The story of Tango as told is that it started with the gauchos of Argentina. They wore chaps that had hardened from the foam and sweat of the horses body. Hence to gauchos walked with knees flexed. They would go to the crowded night clubs and ask the local girls to dance. Since the gaucho hadn’t showered, the lady would dance in the crook of the man’s right arm, holding her head back. Her right hand was held low on his left hip, close to his pocket, looking for a payment for dancing with him. The man danced in a curving fashion because the floor was small with round tables, so he danced around and between them.”

Hmmm… stiff knees, dancing around obstacles, dancing with a stinky partner in the hopes of getting something good from him…  Yeah, that sounds about right.

Prednisone – the drug we love to hate and hate to love.  There are even support groups  for those dealing with the complexities of their relationship with it.  I haven’t joined any of them, but I understand them.

There are two sides to the prednisone story.    On the one hand, it truly is a miracle drug, and for some people, even a lifesaving one.  When I take it in high enough doses, my inflammation and all of its symptoms subside almost immediately, and I’m full of pep and energy.  This is amazing to me, especially when I’ve been unable to get out of bed the day before.  At times like this, I am supremely grateful that this drug exists.

The other side of the story is that the drug often comes with a host of side effects, which become more and more serious the longer the drug is taken.  Not everyone gets side effects from prednisone, and not everyone who does gets exactly the same ones, but mine are so common that I’ve heard them over and over again.  I’ve gotten the characteristic prednisone “moon face,” a fatty hump on the back of my neck, stretch marks, odd facial hair (helloooooo, Elvis sideburns!), bizarre mood effects (manic energy, sudden weepiness, etc.), a massive sweet tooth with matching huge appetite, and, of course, the famous weight gain.  When I first started taking prednisone, I gained forty pounds in less than two months.  I passed through several sizes of clothing in a blink and don’t even have anything in my wardrobe for the way down.  What was REALLY painful is that I had just had a baby and had succeeded in losing the baby weight!

After awhile, I started to wonder – did the prednisone itself cause the weight gain, or was it just because of the overeating?  So I did a little experiment. 

During a brief time when I was off prednisone completely, I found that the pounds started dropping off me with very little effort.  I thought they would probably go even faster if I dieted, so I planned out a well-structured 1200-calorie-a-day diet for myself.  I started losing weight at a good fast clip.  Then I started having problems and my doctor put me back on 5 mg, a relatively small amount.  The weight loss slowed down, but I was still able to lose about 1/2 pound a week.

Then I flared, and had to go up to 30 mg for a little while.  I was extremely disciplined and ignored the raging appetite, and continued with the exact same 1200-calorie diet.  And guess what?  The weight loss stopped completely.  I managed not to gain the weight back, which made me realize that I had a new tool in my arsenal, but it was very, very difficult.  It was also frustrating to work so hard for no loss at all.  Any tiny deviation caused a gain, so quickly it was unbelievable. 

So I’ve concluded that at least for me, the prednisone really does cause weight gain in a way beyond the increased appetite.  I’ve realized that I will have to exert great dietary self-control every time I do a taper, and get comfortable with breaking even during that time, or even accept a small gain.  And I look forward to the day when I can get off the drug completely and get down to a healthy weight again.  I’ve lost 20 of the 40 pounds already, and it’s really hard for me to start another taper and see my hard work stop bearing fruit for awhile.

For now, we will tango, and I will do my best to enjoy being able to glide around the floor with ease, instead of focusing on the stinkiness of my partner.

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