Momentary Distraction

So much has happened since the last time I posted but I am still not doing well enough to type an update. I'm writing this on my phone. I've spent almost all of the last two months in bed on my BiPAP, recovering and trying to improve. I'm not there yet but I'm starting to get there. In the meantime, I'm going to try to share some little writings and crappy poems from my journal that I still write in almost every day. That seems manageable. I wrote this one a few days ago:




I crackle
I break
A body with a language all its own
No one can decipher
But a petal here
A petal there, look
It bends, snaps
A momentary distraction
Pause the piecing together
Holding limbs that fray and unravel
Clenching it all together for just a breath
To let it collapse
Look as it blooms
There's life pulsing there
A tiny blade of grass alone
A diaphanous web clinging in memory
Sunlight piercing trees
For just a moment the internal battle ceases
And I remember how to feel alive

Hello Again

Hello out there. Since it’s been so long since I’ve posted, I'm not sure where to start, so I’ll start at “Hello.”

Sorry for the silence here the last two months. My condition took a sharp turn about a month and a half ago and I’ve spent most of my days since just surviving.

I haven’t been doing well the last few months. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in four months. Sometimes I only sleep 2 hours a night. Sleeping and breathing at the same time is not really a thing my body is able to do anymore and that is the main culprit of my insomnia, although it’s not the only reason. But there’s good news on that front (I discuss more below).

Since I haven’t been sleeping well, the weakness in my limbs has turned to paralysis. Not having use of my limbs makes typing really challenging. Thus, I haven’t posted. 

A month and a half ago, I woke up one day and felt the heaviness in my limbs, the signal they send me to say “you have little use of us today and if you over-do it we’ll shut down completely. Good luck!”

I heard what they told me but I loaded the dishwasher anyway. I said “I do what I want! You don’t own me.” I moved too much anyway. I pushed too far. Bam. My muscles completely shut down. Typically, I can rest for a few hours and they’ll come back to life, but it was different this time. 

I haven’t been able to stand or walk since and my wheelchair is my constant companion now.

My BFF always jokes that Myasthenia Gravis sounds like a Harry Potter spell. If it was a Harry Potter spell, it would make your limbs turn into gummy worms.

The first few weeks when this started I needed help with every basic task, including getting to the bathroom. Since then, I’ve gotten some of the independence I had before back, but I still need help showering and making food. I can't help with any cleaning. We have to prepare my food the day before. I still have intermittent use of my arms.

I've lived in fear of this the last year. I have had periods where the paralysis intensifies and I can barely get around my house with my cane, or I'm not able to walk at all. But the longest I've ever been unable to walk is 12 hours. This is a new normal indeed.

My whole body has become so weak and deconditioned without any movement at all. All this time I’ve been trying to imagine how I’m going to rebuild my strength. It’s a daunting task. Imagining just walking from my bed to my bathroom again feels like climbing Everest. There’s no chance to rebuild my strength right now because any time I try to use my muscles the more the paralysis sets in. That’s typical for Myasthenia. Using muscles draws the antibodies from your blood into the muscle, making it weaker and weaker.

So I’m not completely sure how I’m going to climb out of this. I’m honestly just trying to go with it, take it day by day and moment by moment. My body makes the rules so I'm just trying to finally learn how to follow its lead and not fight against it. The harder I fight, the more I sink in the quicksand. It's better just to roll with it, literally. 

So I continue to wait.

When the paralysis was so intense that I needed help with every basic task, husband and I packed a bag and planned to head to the ER. I mentally prepared myself for a long hospital stay. But my neurologist (who has been minimally helpful during this health crisis) told us not to go to the ER unless my breathing completely shut down. My packed hospital bag is still sitting on the floor in our room just in case.

It’s incredibly frustrating. I had been making progress with yoga the last 6 months, I had been able to walk farther than I had been able to almost a year in Febraury, and now it's gone. I keep thinking “what did I do? How did this happen?”

I think I have an idea of what happened. I got over-ambitious. I was in denial about how much I have declined in the last 6 months in general. Ever since that day that I screwed up, took my body for granted, and tried to play with my nephew for a few minutes back in March, I haven’t been the same. That started the insomnia and the constant insomnia turned the usual muscle weakness into paralysis. I started a higher dose of the medication I use to sleep and I think that played a role too. 

I think that’s how I got here.  But it’s often fruitless to backtrack and try to figure out how or why. Illness often has a mind of its own and control is an illusion. Trying to find a narrative that explains the 'how' and 'why' often is a pointless endeavor.

Although this crisis has been challenging for husband and I, we have started adapting to it. I have adjusted to using the wheelchair all of the time pretty well. We’ve come up with solutions to help me maintain some of my independence and preserve the strength and energy I have. Each night, husband prepares my breakfast and lunch for the next day.

It may sound strange, but in some ways this crisis has given me more resilience. I was extremely depressed the few months before this because I was having difficulty exercising, walking, or seeing any of my friends and family. Yet, this has given me a huge appreciation for the independence and mobility I had. It has given me more determination to move again and get my strength back.

Bella appreciates having another place to sit

I haven’t been able to play my keyboard in two months, the longest I have ever gone. That, more than not being able to walk, has been the most devastating part of this. But I’m determined to be able to have enough use of my arms and enough energy to play again. I want to go back to the assisted care facility where my mom lived to play for them again in the near future.

I’ve been listening to a lot of music, especially playing my vinyl collection, and reading (follow me on Instagram to see pictures of my vinyl collection. I'm @StefanieShea over there). I’ve even been able to wheel myself outside sometimes. Husband and I have been watching a lot of Star Trek. Even though I’m still not well, I still feel satisfied with life in many ways. 

In times like this, I've learned you have to find strategies to not let frustration overwhelm you. It can start a fire that consumes every part of your life. You have to fiercely guard what joy you still have. Ultimately, I've learned gratitude is the antidote to suffering. 

To the good news:

A few weeks ago, I had an appointment with my pulmonologist. I haven’t made it to any appointments with any of my doctors this year and the only test I made it to was my pulmonary function test in April. Everything else I have had to cancel because I wasn’t well enough. I was in terrible shape and not able to travel but I had to make it to this appointment. I had to tell my doctor that breathing and sleeping have become even harder.

It was over 100 degrees that day, making the trek to the next town over to see her even more challenging. But husband created an elaborate game plan to make sure I was comfortable and able to make it.

I started crying as soon as we got in the room. I could barely talk to her nurse. I don’t cry in appointments anymore. It wastes time. I always have my game face on and a detailed list of questions and points to discuss. When my doctor came in, I was still a weepy mess. I could barely use my limbs or sit up and I was exhausted from traveling and suffering. It was too much.

My pulmonologist is incredible. I wish every doctor had her empathy and compassion. She was distraught at my condition and my emotional state. I’m usually all smiles and business when I see her, no matter how terrible I feel. I asked her again if there was any way I could get a breathing machine finally, something we’ve been talking about for a year since the respiratory muscle weakness from MG has been my most difficult symptom to manage the last few years. She said she’d do everything in her power but she thought my insurance would not cover it. I left incredibly disappointed. The inhalers she gave me and the canned oxygen I buy online are not enough to offset my breathing difficulty and it is the major culprit for my insomnia, leading to my declined state. 

I've heard "this treatment will help you but your insurance won't cover it" so many times. That's the reason my neurologist hasn't been able to start the standard MG immunotherapy for me.

A few days later we got a call that I had been approved for a BiPaP machine. Wait. What? How? We couldn’t believe it! I don’t know how my doctor did it but I need to send her some flowers.

Two respiratory nurses brought the machine over last week and showed us how to use it. The first night I tried to sleep with it on and ended up only sleeping a few hours that night, long after I took the mask off. It’s going to take some time to be able to fall asleep with it on. I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping even without an uncomfortable apparatus attached to my face.

But I’ve been using it during the day, before bed, and when I wake up at night not breathing and what a difference it has made. WOW! Who knew breathing was so great? The only problem is my insurance didn’t cover the full cost of the machine. Our monthly co-pay for it is $100, which is steep. We looked at our budget and worked things around to make it feasible.

The day I got my machine, my best friend created a GoFundMe page to help cover the cost. I guess my closest friends had been planning this as soon as they heard I was approved for the machine. I was considering asking them to take it down but my friend explained that people wanted to help and they had been looking for a way to help. Friends, family, and even strangers contributed.

I am astonished at their kindness. It has been an elixir of hope the last week knowing so many people were rooting for me and wanted to help us. We are so grateful for the love and support.

So right now I’m working on getting adjusted to the machine and crossing my fingers and hoping I can start building my strength again. I’m hoping to get back to blogging regularly again. I can’t believe it’s been two months since I’ve posted. For any of you still reading, thanks for hanging on and bearing with me.

There have even been days where I have enough strength to do fun things, like re-plant our Stonehenge garden.

I have also learned that when you live a life of limitation and the most excited thing you have to look forward to is leaving the house for blood work or an appointment, you have to create things to look forward to and focus on them instead. This week is our 10th wedding anniversary and we're going to have a big party with our friends and family. We had always planned to drive to Yellowstone for our 10th, but that's not possible. A party is just as great. We're going to Monterey in a few weeks to stay for about a week with some friends. It will be the first time I've left my town for something other than an appointment in two years! We have friends and family coming to visit from other states in the next few months. Despite the obvious drawbacks, life is pretty good.

And you have to hold fast to that.

To better days ahead for all of us…..

Surviving the Worst

Well. I’m slowly climbing back from the worst rough patch I’ve ever had, but I’m here. I’m writing. My arms work well enough to type again. This is progress.

From the last few posts, you can see that the last few months have been one long rough patch, but it took a sharper turn the last week. The thing with experiencing the worst is it’s like a nightmare taking tangible form. The world drains of color. Nothing brings joy or relief. I couldn't see the other side, and it felt like I would never climb out.

But I am getting to other side.

I’ve had some really severe insomnia for about a month and a half. I am a lifetime insomniac and go through periods of not sleeping well but this was different. I was only averaging 3 hours a night and some nights, I only slept about an hour, long after the sun came up. The thing with illness is sleep is the center which all forms of symptom management orbit. If you don’t have sleep, it doesn’t matter how much you rest, eat well, exercise, etc. Without sleep, everything else is pointless.

I tried all my usual tactics, including changing my sleep medication. But the reason I was having such a difficult time sleeping is I was having to spend a good portion of my time in bed during the day and I was constantly waking up in the middle of the night because I wasn’t breathing. The latter is not an uncommon occurrence but the less sleep I got, the worse my breathing got and the more time I had to spend in bed. It was an unending cycle I couldn’t break.

I don’t know how people who have to spend all of their time in bed do it, but being bedridden is always a ticket to insomnia-ville for me. I also kept over-doing it as always and making myself bedridden again.

I did manage to make it to my pulmonary function test two weeks ago though. I’m hoping to write a post about it since it’s a standard test for Myasthenia. It’s a brutal, exhausting test that includes such exciting activities as breathing into tubes, hyperventilating on purpose over and over, and getting locked in a glass pod. It was nice to show up though and it’s the only test I’ve made it to this year, so it feels so good to check it off the list since I won’t have to do it again for another year!

But I didn’t rest properly after the test and ended up bedridden and back at insomnia-ville again.

But then my body had had enough and my muscle weakness turned to paralysis. Paralysis can come at any time with Myasthenia but this was the worst bout I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t get to the bathroom without help. My husband had to push me around the house in my wheelchair, two thresholds I have been dreading and hoping wouldn’t happen for a long time or never.

We made arrangements to go the hospital but I had my husband call my doctor to see if that was the right choice. My doctor said that if the paralysis entered my respiratory muscles, then we needed to go. Even though I had little use of my limbs, I was actually breathing ok, for me at least. A healthy person would still assume they were dying. Going to the ER is stressful and offers serious risk. I knew I needed sleep and rest and I was not going to get either of those there. Also, my doctor has still not authorized immunotherapy—steroids and IVIG—for me, which is standard treatment for Myasthenia. I really don’t know what they would do for me at the ER. So I pushed through it. Survived moment to moment. 

It’s a skill I’ve gotten really good at. I’m an epic level survivor.

I haven’t had to spend any time in bed the last three days. The paralysis is starting to subside and I’m sleeping better. I don’t know if I have turned the corner yet but I feel like I’m getting there. The world has some color again.

I’ve been practicing what I call “militant resting,” moving as little as possible, focusing on my breathing, and giving my body the patience and care it needs. Now if I could just stop over-doing it and let my body recover, that would be great.

I missed my MRI at Stanford again and sent a message to my doctor asking for another option, hopefully to do the MRI locally since this is the 4^th time I’ve had to cancel it. I have another appointment there in two weeks. I really need to improve so I can finally show up.

I got my fancy, new record player that was my gift to myself for winning my short-term disability case and I’ve been lying on my couch listening to a lot of music, many of my albums I haven’t listened to in a long time. Music the best kind of medicine; it can be auditory resuscitation. As something fun and uplifting, I've been working on taking pictures of some of my vinyl collection I’ve been accumulating the last few decades. If you want to see it, follow me on Twitter or on Instagram.

It feels like there are shades of normalcy in life again and I'm working hard to get there. My husband has been the unsung hero in this awful saga. He is always the one who deserves all the glory. The last few months have easily been harder for him than for me since he has to care for me, while working and doing everything else. This was the first time I have needed help with every task so I've been working hard to get back to some functionality again. I'm definitely getting there. We survived it together like we always do and watched all of "Cut Throat Kitchen" while I rested.

Since my condition continues to decline and I've struggled to show up to appointments and tests to finally make headway toward treatment, I have this overwhelming sense of dread and fear. What transpired last week did not help this. But I have decided that I won't live in fear of the future and what may come next. I want to try to enjoy each day--laugh with my husband, listen to music, watch the birds in my yard, do everything I can do enjoy each moment.

When I was feeling at my worst, I wrote a poem to remind myself of this:

I refuse to walk in fear
To tread in trepidation
To worry what each corner brings
But instead
To wake each day to a fresh start
And face that possibility with an embrace
Each corner is a new chance
Something to learn, something to fight, something to laugh with
But I refuse to walk in fear toward it
Not anymore 
Instead, a gesture toward hope


I hope all of you are doing well out there. I'm hoping to get back to regular posting again soon. Peace and love to you all :)

The Week That Was, April 8th

I guess I didn’t manage to do any weekly updates in March either so here’s hoping I can do a few in April at least.

-I’m finally starting to feel a little better. I’m climbing out of the longest rough patch I’ve ever had but I’m starting to be able to do a little bit of exercise again and it’s been multiple days since I’ve had to spend part of the day in bed. Woo hoo for a little verticality! The view from my couch is always better than the view from my bed for sure.

I shirked all responsibility this week since I’ve been feeling better. I didn’t prepare for appointments, make appointments, work on my applications that needed to be finished, etc. I just enjoyed the feeling of functionality a bit and put it all off.

It was lovely.

- Yesterday, I shared a sponsored post that’s been in the works for some time. Someone from SaltStick contacted me a few months ago about doing a partnership and I debated it for awhile. I have no plans to monetize this blog. That’s not the direction I plan on going but since I’ve used their product every day for years now and I have found that many with Dysautonomia have never heard of it, I thought it might be a good idea. The best part about it is they offered everyone (in the US at least) a coupon code to try the product. Check out the post and find the code.

Even my husband uses their product since they were created mainly for athletes in mind. He takes some before he does a hike or when he goes to Tough Mudder events.

-I found out about a month ago that one of my poems is going to be published. I submitted some stuff last minute to my alma mater’s literary journal and had no expectation that anything would be accepted. I’ll share the poem when the journal is released, which should be in the next few weeks. They have all the authors participate in a reading but I had to decline to attend. I would love to have gone but going to an event like that isn’t in my realm of possibilities right now. Maybe someday.

- Monday is my mom’s birthday. This week marked 6 months since she passed too. When I spent much of the last month in bed, I had to put the grieving process on the back burner. I just couldn’t face it when I was drowning and desperately trying to swim back to the surface. I had planned on going to the convalescent home where she lived and did hospice care to play their piano on that day. I haven’t played there since before Christmas. I would like to play there once a month at least but I haven’t been well enough to do that. I’m not sure I’ll go that day. I might end up crying more than playing. I do want to go soon though.

I’ve been playing my keyboard almost every day again and I’d love to go make an offering of music in her honor. She loved Elton John so there’s one song I’ll definitely be playing, which is at the end of the post.

-I have a really unpleasant pulmonary test next week that I am NOT looking forward to. It's a pulmonary function test. Luckily, I’ve done this test before so I at least know what to expect. It’s at the hospital a few towns over. I’ll have to breathe hard into multiple tubes for about an hour, which is brutal. I did this test a year ago and this should determine if my respiratory muscle weakness has indeed worsened, which is definitely feels like it has.

Compared to a year ago when I did the test, I’m on a higher dose of Mestinon now and I use multiple inhalers every day. Even with these, I struggle to breathe every day. I have to limit how much I talk and I had give up singing completely because it always ends in disaster. My soul feels incomplete without singing but I’m hoping someday to do it again. When I can, I’ll be able to perform again. 

The respiratory weakness is my most difficult symptom to manage by far so I’m hoping when I finally start immunotherapy that there will be some improvement. My quality of life would improve immensely if this symptom wasn’t so severe. Unfortunately, it's the most dangerous Myasthenia symptom because you can slip into Myasthenic Crisis at any time, which is why I have to be so careful every day.

I just want to get this test over with.

-Speaking of Myasthenia, an article popped up in my alerts that discusses the potential discovery of new antibodies associated with Myasthenia. It is extremely challenging to diagnose. Some test negative for the current antibodies associated with the condition and this leads to delays in diagnosis and treatment. This has been the case for me. My neuro at Stanford told me I likely have one of these undiscovered antibodies. The longer treatment is delayed, the more permanent damage Myasthenia does to the body. It's been years since my symptoms started and I still haven't started treatment. It's good to know that research is ongoing for the disease and there's hope that people will have access to a diagnosis and treatment sooner! 

-I have some great news to share. If you’re on the Facebook page, I already mentioned it there. I’ve discussed many times on the blog that I’ve been in a long, grueling battle with my private disability insurance for the remainder of my short-term disability. After two years and multiple appeals, I found out a week ago that I won my case! We didn’t think I had a chance in hell since multiple law offices declined to take my case and winning any disability appeal is nearly impossible without legal support.

This was my last appeal so I was waiting for one last denial letter. Then I’d set it on fire, shake my fist, and shout some expletives and move on with my life. That was the game plan. Then they called me and told me I won my case. I’m still in disbelief. It's not a monthly payment or a permanent disability unfortunately. It's just a lump sum of a few remaining months of my short-term disability, which the insurance company denied me. I'm in the process of applying for state disability right now.

A few people have asked me to share what strategies I used to win my case. Since my disability was through a private insurance company, the process was different. That’s why I couldn’t find a lawyer. Very few take private disability insurance cases. An office in Texas almost took my case but they ultimately declined. I will write a post soon sharing some of the knowledge I gained from this process soon.

It’s a huge victory since I spent an unbelievable amount of time and energy on all of my appeals over the last two years. What a relief.

I bought myself a fancy new record player as a reward.

I hope all of you are well out there!

A Day in the Life

Instead of an update post this week, I have something a little different. My best friend Carrie Anne suggested I write a post like this and I thought it was a great idea. I outlined a typical day for me to show what managing illness looks like and what it means to enjoy life while battling life-limiting illness. This is what a pretty good day looks like, without any major catastrophes. I included a little of my thought process also. This is the Spoon Theory of illness in practice :

“It’s 9:00. I meant to wake up at 8:30. I set my alarm for 8:30. What happened? I didn't even hear my alarm. I always feel better physically if I can get up before 9:00. Oh well. I feel like I didn’t sleep. How many times did I wake up last night? Just the once or twice? I woke up when I heard husband leave at 3:30. Did I wake up because I wasn’t breathing? No. Not this time. Intestinal pain? Probably. I can’t nap so this will be as good as it gets today”

I get up and make the same breakfast I have every day: instant oatmeal with a scoop of peanut butter and extra salt. I had to give up any hope of eating real food in the morning a few years ago because my GI problems are the worst in the morning and I will instantly be lying on the bathroom floor if I try to eat real food. I’ve had a few disasters from trying to eat solid food and I'll just leave it there. I get most of the oatmeal down usually and my morning meds, which are my tachycardia med, Mestinon for Myasthenia (I can suddenly breathe again!), Florinef (oh how I hate thee but I cannot function without thee), imodium (food and I can be on speaking terms again), and a salt pill. 

I start hydrating as soon as I wake up and drink fluids (tea, water, V8, Nuun) non-stop until bedtime. That's what it takes with Dysautonomia. I do some of my vestibular exercises in the morning (standing still for 30 seconds and trying not to fall from the swaying). This is supposed to help counteract my balance issues, even though they aren't vestibular related. It usually helps slightly.

“I’ve been sitting here watching mindless television for an hour. I got my food and meds down. Do I attempt exercise? I could get on the stationary bike, or try to walk, or do some strength, or just meditate instead and try to exercise this evening? It’s a risk either way. I could waste all my energy on exercise and risk not being able to make myself lunch or be able to do anything else. I’m going to risk it. Exercise seems to be going better in the morning. I might not have any energy left this evening. I better do it now.”

I do one of those options but never push it too hard so that I have enough energy still left. The “exercise” I do is only 10 minutes or less and very minimal. As a former athlete and someone who has always been very active, it feels pathetic but I know it is still a huge success if I can do it and if the weakness/paralysis isn’t bad enough that I can get some use from my legs. With Myasthenia, the more you use a muscle, the more weak it gets and if I'm having a rough patch, the paralysis could set in for days or weeks. I have to be very careful with how much exercise or movement I do because my legs especially will completely shut down if I ask too much from them. Sometimes I end up spending all of my energy on exercising and sometimes I finish exercising feeling slightly invigorated with more energy. It’s a crapshoot every time. 

I put my compression stockings on (if I exercise, this happens first), get dressed, do my makeup, brush my hair (maybe curl it), and listen to NPR news. I may be home-bound now but that hasn’t changed my perpetual desire for news and politics. I need to know what’s happening in the world even if I’m barely part of it. I’m still a citizen of the world.

I usually waste copious energy on getting ready. This is a controversial subject in the spoonie community. I get dressed and do my makeup every day, even when I’m not leaving the house, and I willingly waste much energy on this. It is my war paint, it is my normalcy, and it is how I know the difference between ok days and horrific days. Horrific days are ones where I cannot get dressed or put make up on or leave my bed. It’s a dash of vanity too. I don’t want anyone to be able to look at me and see the struggle etched on my face.

My mother taught me so much about self-presentation and feeling good about yourself through that presentation. Even when we were destitute and she was a single mother, she always looked fantastic and had high esteem about her appearance. It’s something I still value even if I don’t leave the house most days. I like to know that if a miracle happens and I have enough energy to leave the house or if someone comes by, I will at least be ready.

I won’t feel the part but I’ll at least look it.

“It’s 11:30. I have a little time before the Big Crash comes. It’s just all downhill until I can take my afternoon dose of Mestinon at 4. So many hours from now. This is the worst time of day for me so it’s time to sit. Sit and rest. My to-do list still has so much left on it for the week. I have phone calls to make, appointments to set up, paperwork to fax, I have to talk to the disability insurance company again. I can’t believe I have to call them again this week. It never ends. There’s never a week where I don’t have to do something related to managing my own care. What if I took a week off? Maybe in June? A whole week where I don’t do any of this? Maybe.”

"Sit still. I have to make lunch somehow in an hour and I need to rest for that. I’ll make the phone call after lunch. After I use my afternoon dose of my inhaler. That way I won’t be gasping for breath once I get off the phone. The only way I can sit still is if I force myself to read or watch something. I’ll watch another episode of Time Team. I never get tired of Time Team. One episode is enough time to be still and rest before I have to make lunch. Do I have enough energy to make myself something besides the usual eggs I eat for lunch every day? It’s a nice thought. The pain in my intestines tells me that I shouldn’t risk trying to eat other food anyway.”

I watch an episode of Time Team, one I’ve probably already seen and have the dialogue memorized, or a documentary or live music on YouTube. Then I try to get enough energy to make myself lunch and maybe unload the dishwasher in stages. I take an hour to eat lunch, which is the amount of time I need for each meal. Because of the Dumping Syndrome related to Dysautonomia, I have to eat very slowly. That way I can get enough calories and the food has a good chance of actually staying in my body long enough to digest it. 

All cooking is done while sitting, of course!

“It’s 1:00. I guess I’ll make that phone call. Then I’ll sit outside in the yard for a bit. That sounds lovely. That will be my reward for getting this off my to-do list. The birds in my yard always hang out with me when I’m out there. They make me feel like Snow White, if Snow White was a crippled, recovering academic with a Zeppelin habit. I’ll read or work on some writing while I’m out there. Or just listen to music. Or read the news. Either way, it will help me sit still and rest. I’ll check Twitter and see what my friends and spoonie friends are up to, or what political nonsense is happening. Look at the sky. Feel good about life and my place in the universe at this moment.”

Husband gets home in the afternoon and we talk about how his day went. He lets me vent my frustration about American politics or whatever news I read. We laugh at some random thing we saw online or heard and banter about our nerd interests. Then he usually plays video games and I read or work on some writing for awhile.

As my morning Mestinon dose starts to wear off, the afternoon is a slow climb. It’s the worst time of day for me so I try to spend most of it resting. My inclination is to keep moving, try to clean, do things, so I really have to force myself to rest during the day. If I push myself, then I can end up bedridden and struggling to breathe and move. Then the day is completely over. It's a constant balance to try to stay mobile and active enough while resting significantly. By 4 PM I can take my afternoon dose and then things start to turn around a bit. I can breathe better, have more energy, and more use of my limbs. I can maybe try to go for a walk or do a bit of cleaning or play my keyboard for 15 minutes. Usually I keep resting. If I don’t eat dinner by 6 PM, I start crashing again.

Husband makes dinner most days. Cooking complicated meals is just not something I’m able to do anymore, so he does the cooking. But it’s a fair trade because I do all the clean up. I don’t mind doing that part. It feels like my contribution. I take my vitamins with my dinner since I have the best success with food at that time.

The evening is the best part of the day because that's our quality time. We usually eat our dinner and watch whatever Sci Fi show we’re currently watching. I also watch the news at 5:30 every day. We sit on the couch and watch our show with our cats and then husband goes to bed around 8:30. I go to bed later than him so sometimes I’ll go in and lie down with him for awhile. We’ll grab one of the cats and have a team snuggle for 15 minutes and then husband falls asleep.

I usually shower, a very quick, lukewarm shower with my shower chair as one with Dysautonomia must take. A hot shower is one of the worst things you can do with Dysautonomia because it dilates the blood vessels and your body is already having a difficult time keeping blood flowing to your heart and brain from blood pooling. Gravity combined with heat is Dysautonomia kryponite. That’s how one ends up unconscious on the shower floor, which is not sexy. Even with the fast, lukewarm shower while sitting on my shower chair, I can feel my brain start to turn off by the end of the shower so I rush through it. After I shower, I sit for a bit and rest. I can’t shower in the morning anymore unfortunately. If I do, it could take me all day to recover from it. Evening is usually a success.

Around 8 PM, I usually get my second wind or at least a small surge of energy. I usually finish the dishes if I haven’t already or try to do some of my very easy physical therapy exercises. In the summer, I sit outside and read since I can’t go outside during the day. I loathe summer now but eating my breakfast outside in the morning and then sitting outside in the evening and reading are both real treats. I look forward to that bit at least.

“It’s 9 PM so I have an hour or so before I take the next round of meds and start preparing for bed. Should I try to exercise more? No. I did enough today. I have to save some energy for tomorrow. Do I watch some crappy tv? Or read? Maybe I could try to mop? I’d give anything to mop. I need to invent a vacuum cleaner/mop that I could ride because I just cannot successfully do that now. I miss the days when I could clean our whole house in an hour. Now so little gets done. Thank god no one ever sees our room and bathroom. I need to learn to live with it. It’s not the end of the world. I did enough today. It was good enough.”

“Maybe I could try to drive tomorrow? It’s been almost a year. Maybe I could walk all the way across the street? It’s been so long. Maybe I could go somewhere with husband? I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ll just take whatever my body throws at me and accept it. I had an ok day today so I just need to be satisfied with it."

"I didn't have to spend any time in bed, and that my dear is glorious.”

“But I need to sit and rest before bed. I should do my evening dose of my steroid inhaler now. I may need a hit of my rescue inhaler before bed since I’m not breathing great. Hopefully they’ll both be enough to breathe ok through the night. I don’t want to have to use them back to back right before bed. That will lead to endless coughing and could keep me up. I’ll use it now.”

Then I take my evening meds and try to get to bed before 11. I usually feel my best if I can get to bed by 10:30 and wake up around 8, but I’ve always been a night owl. I wish I could stay up later, but those are days are over. I lie in bed and read for awhile, my cat climbs up next to me, and then I eventually fall asleep to start the day all over again.

***

What I hope to show with this is a little of what it’s like to manage chronic illness day to day and a little of what it’s like for those who are so ill that they are home-bound. This is actually what an ideal day looks like, without having to spend any time in bed and accomplishing a few things. Perhaps I'll outline a really bad day sometime, but it won't be an easy read that's for sure. I hope I showed not just the constant battle of managing illness, but more importantly, what it means to live a good life despite it—what it is to attempt to thrive despite a body strained by affliction and in constant chaos. 

This wasn’t my normal a few years ago because I was working still. I left the house every day. I lived among the rest who have a career and a sense of purpose. But this is my normal now and I have adjusted to it. My sense of purpose has changed significantly and often that purpose is just to try to make the most of each moment, in the hopes that I’ll feel well enough to enjoy it fully. 

I never know what I will wake up to each day or how I will feel moment to moment. The day can vary so widely that it is often impossible to predict what I’ll be able to do. But no matter what the day becomes, I have learned how to feel satisfied with whatever I get and whatever I'm able to do. It's not an ideal life, but it is still a good life. A good life indeed.

The Week that Was, January 8th

I'm considering trying to write some weekly or bi-weekly updates on the blog to supplement the longer, topic-driven posts I usually write. I always need a reason and purpose for doing anything here, especially to convince myself that this is not an exercise in narcissism, so doing this might highlight a bit of “slice of life” of living with illness, with emphasis on “living” to show that although there is sickness here there is life too. This might help me post more too.

I had a bit of a miraculous week this week. Let the record show, it is possible to have an ok week!

* The last few months have been especially rough. I felt like I’ve been just surviving day to day, so a week where I wasn’t just surviving has been a welcome change. I think the insanely expensive, medical-grade probiotics I’ve been using are helping. I'm taking them to kill my current intestinal infection and to treat the constant oral thrush I have, which is caused by my steroid inhaler and rescue inhaler I have to use multiple times a day. I have to use the inhalers to help offset the respiratory weakness from Myasthenia. Ah, the constant struggle to manage side effects and even side effects of side effects. Sometimes it’s more difficult than managing the primary illness. 

But I think they are helping. With how expensive they are, they better. My GI doctor originally gave me these probiotics and when I see him again in two weeks I need to ask him for a cheaper option because these are out-of-pocket, not a prescription. Oof. 

Designer-priced bacteria

* So I took advantage of this miraculous week and my husband and I went to our local arts center (which we had inexcusably never been to) that’s right down the street. They have an exhibit of one of my favorite artists, Alphonse Mucha. My mom loved him and some of my first memories are staring at the prints she had of his work. Now I have one of her prints and some of my own. The exhibit ends this weekend and I would’ve never forgiven myself if I had missed it. They had some original drawings, some prints and lithographs, and a lot of information about what inspired him and his life. I had no idea that his nationalist sentiments were so pivotal to his work. It was a great experience.

I can’t remember the last time my husband and I went somewhere for fun together that wasn’t appointment-related so something like this was overdue. Despite the fact that my husband is also my caregiver, I’m learning it’s important to still maintain our relationship as husband and wife—to cultivate and nurture that role just as I did before I got ill. We are always trying to come up with things to do together.

The building was luckily very accessible and had an elevator to get to the other floors, which is always welcome. I’m hoping we can go there again when they have other exhibits.

* Although, there is constant debate about whether those with chronic illness and autoimmune diseases should get a flu shot, I get one every year. If you aren’t sure if you should or not, talk to your doctor about it. For me, the risk of getting the flu outweighs whatever risk there is with the immunization. I’ve never had a problem with it. I always get it in January but I swore last year I was going to get it when it came out in October. I still haven’t gotten it.

So yesterday, we headed out to Costco so I could finally get the shot. I was feeling really terrible yesterday (likely the fallout from our outing) so while we were in the car I told husband I didn’t want to go. As we circled back home, we drove by a new thrift store and I suggested we make a quick stop. We went for a few minutes and then husband rolled me over to the used bookstore next to it. I picked up a few books I’ve wanted for a long time. We left the house together for something fun TWICE this week. It’s unbelievable.

I probably should’ve spent yesterday resting or really pushed myself to finally get my flu shot, but I spend most of my life making good decisions and doing whatever my body demands that I do. I guess sometimes it’s ok to not make good decisions in favor of living a little.

* I talk to quite a few Spoonies on Twitter and I had a conversation yesterday with someone in Canada. She posted a picture of an accessible dressing room that looked like a dream but then explained that unlike the Americans with Disabilities Act we have here in the states, Canada has no comparable legislation. Someone else chimed in and said the Netherlands also does not. I had no idea so many industrialized nations, even ones who are politically more progressive than this country, have no accessibility legislation. They have no legal recourse to ensure public places are accessible. It solidified for me that disabled rights are a global issue, not just a national or local issue. Although the ADA has limitations and lacks enforcement, it does provide legal protection and makes the disabled a protected class of citizens in this country. We definitely have more work to do globally.

* When I’m feeling slightly better, it’s like a veil is lifted from my life, the perpetual shadow recedes and I can think about the future instead of just surviving moment to moment or each day. As I’ve been feeling better this week, I’ve been thinking more about changes and additions I want to make to this blog and my ultimate project of writing a book. I still have so much research, reading, and planning to do. I started reading Laurie Edwards' In the Kingdom of the Sick, which I’ve started multiple times but never finished. Eventually I’ll have a review of it in the Spoonie Reads section (along with all the other books I finished recently).

*It's been rainy here all week (who knew that was possible in California?) and playing my keyboard while it rains is one of my favorite things to do. I've been playing one of my favorite standards, "When Sunny Gets Blue," which is a perfect rainy day song: "Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter. Love is gone so what could matter?"

* One of my Spoonie friends who I talk to regularly (I even sent her a Christmas card) sent me a link to this great article about what it’s really like to live with chronic illness, in contrast to media representations of illness. It’s a great read. I also recommend this article from a woman on the patient advisory board at Dysautonomia International about her struggle to get a diagnosis for POTS. 

* I have to do an MRI at Stanford next week so I'm trying to mentally prepare for the long trek. Our last trip there wiped me out for weeks so I'm hoping this trip won't be quite so exhausting.

* I have exercised almost every day this week, wrote two blog posts, and I’m having kind of a good hair day today. A miraculous week indeed.

I hope that all of you are having an ok week.