The pneumonia, the ever-present joint pain, the crushing fatigue....it all hounded me for the better part of 2013. With the exception of the pneumonia, none of it was very alarming. I kept putting off the return to running for little aches and pains, convincing myself that they were nothing. The weekend before Christmas I had been wrapping gifts and preparing for a large dinner at my house. I was not surprised when my lower back started spasming...I didn't think much of it and popped 4 ibuprofen. My friend offered her TENS unit with some simple instructions on how to use it. I spent the next few hours wrapping gifts and being softly zapped every few seconds.
I woke up the next morning unable to pick up my arms or move my legs. It felt as if every nerve ending was on fire. I was terrified. My husband helped me out of bed and helped me get dressed. I spent some time on my exercise ball, trying to stretch out my back in hopes that it was what was causing all of the pain. I took some Tramadol that I had left over from my shoulder surgery and waited for it to take effect. I can't explain the shock and horror of becoming an invalid nearly overnight when just 12 months previously I was finishing a marathon in just barely over 4 hours! I could not comprehend how, once again, my body was turning against me. The Tramadol helped and I was able to continue preparing for the large dinner party that night.
Eventually the sharp pain reduced to a much tolerable level, but it was replaced with an achy stiffness in my hands and feet. Getting out of bed required patience because I was unable to put any weight on my feet without "warming them up". My waking routine because a series of flexing and rotating of my feet and hands until I felt comfortable enough to use them. I made an appointment with my primary care physician, sure that she
would send me back to my physical therapist for some back work. I vowed
to never run a marathon again.
She instead gave me large doses of steroids that offered such great relief that I was able to forgive the awful side effects: massive weight gain, acne, mood swings, brain fog... After a myriad of tests, ruling out MS and a host of other scary diseases that I had never heard of, I was sent to a rheumatologist. I knew that my Grave's Disease diagnosis so many years ago made it more likely that I would be diagnosed with yet another autoimmune disease. Knowing this, I was still not prepared for the new label I was given: Rheumatoid Arthritis.
My thoughts were immediately consumed by images of my freshman year Biology teacher whose hands were so deformed (by what I now know was RA) that he had to wedge a piece of chalk with one hand into the other hand so that he could write on the board. He was unable to demonstrate a proper dissection of the earth worm because he lost most of his fine motor skills. His hands were so twisted and gnarled that I could hardly stop staring at them all those years ago. Tears sprang into my eyes. I looked from my hands to my new doctor's eyes and back to my hands. He finally paused and said "You're not hearing me, are you?" I shook my head and he decided to send me down to the lab to get my baseline x-rays. I had to have x-rays of my hands and feet in various positions as well as my lungs.
My head was spinning. I was in shock.
Thursday, May 01, 2014
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Pneumonia in the Caribbean
My goal for 2012 was to spend only as much time working as I would need to fund a year of amazing travel. That was exactly what I did. My consulting gigs were picking up so I spent a majority of the year on various vacations.
In February, friends and I spent a week on St. Thomas touring the surrounding islands while in a near-constant state of inebriation. We rented an amazing house that came with a barely-road-worthy vehicle. The beaches, the water, the food, the entertainment and, of course, bars were the best I ever experienced. I came home from that trip certain that I would never have another trip as amazing as that one.
Barely back from that vacation, my family convinced me to go on a Caribbean cruise with them. Always the agreeable sort, I wrapped up some work and repacked my suitcase. I booked an interior room in an area of the ship that I can only describe as a single's lounge for that was indeed the idea behind this set of rooms. My room had mood lighting ranging from sultry red to moonlight blue. I rarely slept alone as my nieces liked to share my room with me which was so small that I could touch the bed, shower and bathroom all at the same time. The stops were amazing; St. Thomas (it was like returning home!), St. Maarten (my favorite...if I ever go missing, check there first), and The Bahamas (went on a snorkeling excursion here). I had to make a quick visit (no more than 5 minutes tops) to the infirmary while I was on the boat for an ice pack for my shoulder. It was still painful from my fall and the crowded bed was less than comfortable.
The water was pretty rough the day of the snorkeling excursion. My shoulder made it difficult to do a lot of swimming but since my sister is deathly afraid of the water (ocean, pool, pond, puddle....she saw Jaws, ok?) I agreed to take the two younger ones out with me. It was exhausting and a little chilly. Getting back up on the catamaran required you to tread water in line while waiting for the ladder. Waiting to climb up next the guy in front of me fell off the ladder and directly on top of me. Panicking, he flailed a bit and managed to keep me submerged for what seemed like hours. Had I been prepared I would have been able to take a deep breath and swim away. Instead, I swallowed a small amount of seawater and wanted to beat him with my snorkel.
When we disembarked in Miami at the end of the week, I was feeling a little more tired than usual. I chalked it up to trying to keep up with my nieces and nephews. I still had a couple of days at my sister's house before I flew back home. Shortly after the two hour drive from Miami, I laid down in my niece's bed and fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later and was feeling feverish. My mom gave me some water and some ibuprofen and I went back to sleep for nearly 36 hours. I developed a slight cough on the flight home and couldn't wait to be back in my own bed.
The next day, feeling even worse, I called my doctor and she asked me to come in. She suspected I had bronchitis, gave me an antibiotic and an inhaler and sent me on my way. After four days of sleeping most of the time, I woke up the next morning to what I would describe as delirium. My entire body was shaking violently, I was freezing cold, pouring sweat and barely able to get out of bed. With a little assistance I was able to get up and call the doctor. She ordered a chest X-ray and confirmed that I had pneumonia.
Did I inhale seawater during that awful snorkeling trip? Nah, I would have noticed that immediately. Did I inhale some awful virus in the short amount of time I was in the ship's infirmary getting my ice pack? That sounded ridiculous. I stopped wondering and gave in to the crushing fatigue. I fell into bed and didn't rejoin society for at least two weeks.
In February, friends and I spent a week on St. Thomas touring the surrounding islands while in a near-constant state of inebriation. We rented an amazing house that came with a barely-road-worthy vehicle. The beaches, the water, the food, the entertainment and, of course, bars were the best I ever experienced. I came home from that trip certain that I would never have another trip as amazing as that one.
Barely back from that vacation, my family convinced me to go on a Caribbean cruise with them. Always the agreeable sort, I wrapped up some work and repacked my suitcase. I booked an interior room in an area of the ship that I can only describe as a single's lounge for that was indeed the idea behind this set of rooms. My room had mood lighting ranging from sultry red to moonlight blue. I rarely slept alone as my nieces liked to share my room with me which was so small that I could touch the bed, shower and bathroom all at the same time. The stops were amazing; St. Thomas (it was like returning home!), St. Maarten (my favorite...if I ever go missing, check there first), and The Bahamas (went on a snorkeling excursion here). I had to make a quick visit (no more than 5 minutes tops) to the infirmary while I was on the boat for an ice pack for my shoulder. It was still painful from my fall and the crowded bed was less than comfortable.
The water was pretty rough the day of the snorkeling excursion. My shoulder made it difficult to do a lot of swimming but since my sister is deathly afraid of the water (ocean, pool, pond, puddle....she saw Jaws, ok?) I agreed to take the two younger ones out with me. It was exhausting and a little chilly. Getting back up on the catamaran required you to tread water in line while waiting for the ladder. Waiting to climb up next the guy in front of me fell off the ladder and directly on top of me. Panicking, he flailed a bit and managed to keep me submerged for what seemed like hours. Had I been prepared I would have been able to take a deep breath and swim away. Instead, I swallowed a small amount of seawater and wanted to beat him with my snorkel.
When we disembarked in Miami at the end of the week, I was feeling a little more tired than usual. I chalked it up to trying to keep up with my nieces and nephews. I still had a couple of days at my sister's house before I flew back home. Shortly after the two hour drive from Miami, I laid down in my niece's bed and fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later and was feeling feverish. My mom gave me some water and some ibuprofen and I went back to sleep for nearly 36 hours. I developed a slight cough on the flight home and couldn't wait to be back in my own bed.
The next day, feeling even worse, I called my doctor and she asked me to come in. She suspected I had bronchitis, gave me an antibiotic and an inhaler and sent me on my way. After four days of sleeping most of the time, I woke up the next morning to what I would describe as delirium. My entire body was shaking violently, I was freezing cold, pouring sweat and barely able to get out of bed. With a little assistance I was able to get up and call the doctor. She ordered a chest X-ray and confirmed that I had pneumonia.
Did I inhale seawater during that awful snorkeling trip? Nah, I would have noticed that immediately. Did I inhale some awful virus in the short amount of time I was in the ship's infirmary getting my ice pack? That sounded ridiculous. I stopped wondering and gave in to the crushing fatigue. I fell into bed and didn't rejoin society for at least two weeks.
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