A Simple test

I discoivered a great test to find out if I am being listened to; If the person speaking to me continues to talk after I have told them I agree with them, they have not been listening to me.  I asked my new doctor for a percocet refill, he agreed.  When I told him my last doctor had wrote a 90 day prescription, he freaked out and began to lecture me on why he refused to do that.  I never asked for a 90 day supply, my old doctor gave it to me and being new to the community of prescription narcotics consumers, I thought nothing of it.  I certainly don't have a problem with doing it monthly and I told this guy that, but he continued to lecture me about the inapropriateness of asking for a 90  day prescription.

And when all was said and done, he doubled my dosage.  What a jack ass.

I've given myself permission to spend today in bed, even though it looks great outside and the temperature is (relatively) cooler.  Tomorrow is  my first IVIg in 31 days.  This is the longest I have gone between infusions so far.

I am not sure if that is why I feel so rotten (really tired, lots of pain, unsteady on my feet) or if there is another reason.  When I had the flu last December, it took months for me to recover; it is plausible that my exhaustion might be left over from the move.

I feel guilty about wasting a beautiful day like today.  But the idea of doing what I need to to do get out there is beyond my capabilities right now.  Good thing Alex is here to drain the dogs.

On Anniversaries

 I still have no idea how to understand this change. I still cannot properly describe what it means to have been a person who knew she could do anything and to discover she can do so little. But right now that doesn't matter. I am still alive. -Missy Y. (formerly A Case of You)


My first anniversary of the onset of my chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy is just days away and I am all abuzz with excitement.  The symptoms appeared at the beginning of March, but I went into the hospital on March 19th; I am not sure which date will earn the badge of being the most significant.  That is not quite sarcasm.  Perhaps June First would be a better date; that is when Dr. Boughaba correctly diagnosed my chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy (and the date I began to improve). I don't really believe that the actual dates mean anything.  They are more like convenient markers that can measure the distance I am getting away from the horrid events of 2010.

I can dish it out, but can I take it if I dish it out to myself?

Thursday, February 17, 2011 

I am preparing to recognize a milestone-my symptoms first appeared early in March, 2010. Whether I am going to celebrate or curse remains to be seen.
It depends on my perspective on the events of the last twelve months. A year ago I was healthy, employed, and looking forward to vacationing with my wife; two months later I was paralyzed and totally dependent on other people for everything.

Monday's update

As always,  my appointment with Dr. Boughaba had an anxiety relieving effect.  I consiuder myself very fortunate to have found her.  We talked about finding a new neurologist in Statesboro and she is willing to help with the search.  That was a big relief because I hadn't been able to find any neurologists there that specialized in CIDP like she does.

Chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy is not a progressive illness, it is an intermittent condition.    She was concerned that I might be having a flare up when I told her about feeling more fatigued lately and off balance more.  She proposed extra IVIg treatments for now.