And Another Thing...Prednisone is Not a Happy Pill

My pulmonologist seems oddly attached to this idea that prednisone creates a false sense of well being, making you feel better than you actually are. That it's a mask covering all the yuck.

I beg to differ.

Yes, I've been hyper, manic even, on high doses of prednisone but I have not ever felt great. Weird. Out of my mind. A little crazy. Cranky. Edgy. Insomnia. Yes I do get that.

But super hero high to where I can power through anything? Nope. What I do get is relief. I get my regular energy back and I go live my life.

So to be told today that I only improved on prednisone because of its false sense of well being is frustrating. Their belief in this idea of prednisone as super charger is so strong I do not feel the pulmo really heard me. They were too busy listening to themselves.

You know that intense mid back pain radiating around the side and through my stomach along with shortness of breath and fatigue and headache that improves with prednisone?

Totally not adrenal. Couldn't possibly be.

I just had regular old back pain and got better because Prednisone will do that for ya. It's a super drug, you know, it just amps you up. That's all. I don't have anything wrong with me at all.

Riiiiiiight.

I am also a super model on the side and Taylor Swift writes break-up songs about me.

I would love to know on what planet someone with a documented history of SAI who takes high dose steroids for a month and then has problems upon weaning would be anything other than SAI?

Because that? Is the planet I want to live on.

Yeah, there are some differential diagnoses that could be worked through. I could maybe see sarcoidosis (sp?) on the table (a friend of mine had a brush with it which is how I know anything about it). Or something else. There's the lung tumor after all, but it is small, the odds are it won't have grown or it will have actually disappeared (I'm hoping for disappeared myself).

But you never know. I'm all for a thorough investigation.

The problem is I do not have a doctor who wants to do one. Or if they are doing one, they haven't told me about it.

The endo appointment is 12/10 and the CT scan will be shortly after. I really really hope I get some decent forward movement here. I'm due for a good turn.

As for prednisone, I am on 15mg and feeling better. No pain. Still kind of wiped out though and headache-y. My thought is I may have under-dosed,but, at the same time, I'm glad I didn't take more than 20mg. I don't want to make this mess any worse than it has to be.

The doctors are doing a fine job of f*cking it up all by themselves.

Can't Face It

I should've stress dosed after Tuesday.

It was too much after all.

I'm doing the long slooow slide down, very similar to August.

Soon I'll reach a tipping point that will force me to up the dose.

I suspect Monday will be a problem.

Doc appt.

With the pulmonologist.

If you've read this blog for a while, you know why this will stress me out.

If not Monday, the dinner dance on Saturday could do it.

I suppose I could just throw in the towel and increase the dose now, but I keep hoping it's in my head. That I'm making it up. That I should sleep more. That it's not so bad. That people with 'real' adrenal problems wouldn't be able to wait and see, so my adrenals aren't really all that bad.That if I ignore it, it will go away.

We'll see how all that denial works out for me.

Uh Oh

3mg isn't feeling so hot.

I'm going to try and stick it out as long as I can, although I can see how that may not be wise.

But I am determined to get off prednisone.

If I can.

I did exercise last night. It was fine. I would like to do it again tonight.

Today though is the fatigue and the nausea and all the other crap. Not sure if it was the exercise or all the errands I did this morning or both. It can't be withdrawal in the sense that I bumped up the dose, and, by definition, withdrawal is when you cut the dose. So my guess is I'm just not making enough cortisol for whatever reason.

All I know is suddenly I can't eat--the toddler is actually finishing up my soup as I type--and my energy is in the toilet.

Sigh. Will this ever end? Ever?

Weekend Wrap Up

Saturday was just a fog of not quite right, but not really wrong-ness. Sunday, today, is the first day I'm feeling like I'm getting back to normal.

On 3mg unfortunately.

Honestly, I'm having a hard time growing a pair to attempt 2mg again. I think I might just camp here at 3mg for a bit.

Again.

The asthma is mostly okay. I guess I was sick after all? The neighbor had the same thing, 2 days of sore throat followed by gunky asthmatic lungs. The hubby is now gunky too but without the asthma. So it must have been some kind of mild virus.

Anyway, not a lot of pics from this weekend.

I made protein smoothies for the first time.

They tasted like effluvia from dead fish after they exited a troll's ass. Even with organic strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

Apparently, protein powers are very idiosyncratic. What tastes like ass to me, might be delicious to you. Huh. Hope that doesn't mean I have to try every single protein powder on the market to find one I can stomach.

In addition, FYI, yes it is possible to make that puce-mixed-with-purple color without food additives. That weird color is actually all natural. Who knew? If you've ever had a berry smoothie made by natural food nuts, you know what I'm talking about.

As for why I'm even bothering with protein powder, just trying to expand my horizons and low carb options.

I figured out how to make low carb nachos, which was huge. I am going to be doing lots of wicked nacho things in the near future! Pictured are garden vegetable pizza nachos made after that crescent roll cream cheese pizza appetizer everyone used to make back in the 90s. Delish. Recipe here.

Also made Goulash Soup, low cost, low calorie and low carb. Very yummy. I didn't even realize how good it smelled until I left the house and came back. Wow. Good stuff. Original recipe can be found here if you want to try it.

Tonight I will be making lemon caper chicken and hopefully mixing up the first batch of Christmas cookie dough for the freezer.

And exercising.

Last night we went shopping. The toddler has her first pair of jeans. With pink butterflies on the butt. Damn cute.

We managed to buy some Xmas gifts for her under her nose too. Hubby and I make a great team.

It is hard to see the toddler getting so big. She's my first and last making all my firsts as a parent also the last time too. My heart cracked a little when we passed the itsy bitsy holiday dresses for newborns.

Lastly, I am impressed that no one yelled at me for not getting a flu shot. The topic is such a flashpoint, I wondered if I was going to find myself in trouble.

For anyone who wondered, I meant to include the fact that I had the H1N1 shot last year so I am protected there and that is the more serious virus. Ironically, last year, I was not considered asthmatic enough to be given an H1N1 shot from the pulmonologist's limited stash. I had to wait until the drugstores had it available, which was sometime in January. This year? They are all over my ass.

Have a happy Sunday!

Stepping Out & Falling Flat on My Face

The weather is beautiful. Warm finally instead of snappy Spring cold. Sick and tired of being trapped in the house, with a toddler who felt similarly, I decided an outing was in order.

The pain has improved. I'm so happy to not be French kissing the toilet any more that I feel pretty good. Falsely so as it turns out.

First we went to Borders and bought a bunch of books for the toddler as well as a birthday gift for someone else. The toddler was age appropriate in her behavior--distract-able, mostly not listening, but responsive to coaxing and some bribery.

That ended when we went to the mall.

I explained the agenda to her, store, train ride, potty, home.

She repeated it back to me.

I thought we were good.

We were not.

She began channeling Linda Blair the second we set foot in the mall.

Coaxing didn't work.

Bribing didn't work.

Things deteriorated into momma (that would be me) saying things like "You can walk or I'll help you walk, those are your choices."

Of course the toddler choose being 'walked' by momma, which involves me holding her arms and hustling her along. She thought it was great fun and laughed the whole time.

I did carry her for as long as I could at one point, but am not strong enough still to manage 500+ yards with her in my arms. A key point to keep in mind any time I start feeling ambitious in the future.

Then she started screaming 'ow' and favoring her arm. I stopped, I looked her over, couldn't find a problem and decided whatever it was we would deal with it later. I hadn't touched her arm other than the 'walking', which had occurred 5 minutes previously with no comment. But she's not a faker that I've ever seen so something must be wrong.

The parking lot was a similar exercise in parental misery. Proving that no matter how old I get, I will never have enough wisdom to where a mere 2-year-old can't run circles around me.

We did the awkward hold-my-hand-damn-it-and-stop-practicing-passive-resistance-as-if-MLK-is-watching dance, which resulted in skinned knees when the toddler went limp. So the toddler was crying. I couldn't carry her. People were staring. I felt like crawling into a hole alternated with the urge to shout 'I am not a bad mom, she's a bad toddler.' Which would be immature so I didn't do it, but it was tempting.

Spanking was starting to sound like a Great Idea. See also, when selling one's children on Ebay sounds Real Good. And also, Where's Mary Poppins when you need her, the flaky bitch?

I have never been so happy to be home in my life. The toddler's arm is fine, thankfully--I don't know what that was about. The knees, well, she got some boo-boo kisses and a looooong talk about how if we cooperate and hold hands, we don't fall and hurt our knees. Non-violent protest is not all it's cracked up to be.

Further, she was informed, we will not be going anywhere any time soon. At least not until I can cover 1/8th of a mile while carrying her. Or she turns 35. Whichever comes first.

Before running the parental gauntlet, I felt pretty good and was optimistic that I was going to be fine. After, I'm beyond wiped and am clearly not 100%. So we are back to where sitting on my ass is easy and makes Doing Things sound good, when I'm really in no position to do anything other than imitate a couch potato.