I know that I’ve been MIA for a week or so. I have had a couple of migraines, which I still get, despite my surgeries. Migraines are separate from Chiari, despite the fact that I get both types of headache concurrently, often. In case anyone is curious, my migraines, as a separate disorder, have been pretty well controlled lately, by the following regiment:
Amivog (this is one of the newer, monthly injectable medications)
Topamax (300 mg - yes, this is a big dose - mine is broken up into am/pm doses)
Botox (every 3 months following the protocol, plus in my jaw)
Imitrex (100 mg dose)
Frovatriptan (not WITH the Imitrex, duh - to every pharmacist out there who tells me, and will tell me)
Fiorcet (not the one with Codeine)
Zofran, when needed
As for the Amivog, it comes in two doses, a small and large. My neurologist just switched me to the larger dose, because she wants me to ultimately taper down on the Topamax. If the Amivog is successful, it has fewer side effects, and she wants to rely more heavily on that as a preventative. However, Tricare is not as reliable at delivering that medication, so I have to consider that. For example, I wasn’t able to get it this month, because they randomly switched pharmacies from which they will allow us to get it, meaning when I went to pick it up at Walgreen’s, from which I should have had no co-pay, it was, suddenly, $585. Ummm…no.
As for the Topamax; it’s a drug that’s been on the market for years. They renewed their patent recently by making an XR version called Trokendi. Many people don’t react well to either one. It has a long adjustment period. I’ve been on it since I was in my 20’s, at varying doses, sometimes as high as 800 mg! I’m not saying that was a great doctor. I’ve tried to taper down, or off before, and it seems like anytime I get below the 300 mg threshold, all hell breaks loose. We shall see, if when the Amivog is in place, the same holds true.
Anyway, I’m always curious what other patients have in their toolbox. That’s not all my daily meds, of course, just those for migraine. I’m actually not on that many meds any more. I’ve gotten them pretty weened down, and I’m glad for that. If only I could take nothing. Ah what a dream!
So, I know I’ve been absentee, but I thought I’d throw a random update your way about what’s been happening around here, and get you up to speed on Rachel-ville, in no particular order:
Registration for Fall Classes
I had to register for the Fall Semester. I hate registering when you are at the bottom of the heap for students. It means you register last, as you watch classes fill up, until your appointed time. Thankfully, I got the classes I wanted. One of those classes is, wait for it, “Creative Writing: The Young Adult Novel.” I have no clue what I’m going to write about. But, not to fear, I dreamt that I had a great idea, last night. And, furthermore, I dreamt that great idea included a grizzly bear. Surely, I’ll be all set. As you can tell, I’m even nervous about this in my subconscious.
Speaking of Dreams
For the last three, count them, three, nights in a row, I have also had nightmares that were about my parents. Nothing says healthy and healed from childhood trauma more than your parents not only showing up in your nightmares, but causing you to wake up crying, right?
I have started, in my 40s, these past few weeks, to get regular manicures. Before this, the only manicure I’d ever gotten, was for my wedding. I know, weird. I’m loving it! I had no idea how pretty my hands could look! Here’s my problems though: how do you talk to the women doing your nails? They are always talking to one another in what I think is Korean. I feel so awkward interrupting them, but I also feel awkward not talking to them. Well, I feel more awkward than usual. The girl I had last week didn’t do a great job. When I show up this week, if they put me with her, can I ask for a different girl, without seeming like a bitch? I’ve always gone by the adage that, in service industries, tip, and tip well; if I keep tipping well, will they like waiting on me, remember me, and do a good job for me?
Ugh, speaking of 40s. My periods have been acting wonky for a few months now. This month, it appears that it may not show up at all. NO, I’m NOT pregnant. For the past six weeks, sex has been the farthest thing from my mind, as my leg was so painful, I had considered amputating it. Plus, even if Bryon had caught me in an amorous moment, he’s had a vasectomy; and, he sent his little swimmers back for the six-week check afterward, all deadzo. Alas, I’m well over a week late. I’m perfectly okay sliding into that stage in life. I’ve been begging for a hysterectomy for years. I do not understand why insurance and doctors make this such a difficult procedure for women to get. I understand that it’s major surgery; but, the reasoning is always that, as women, we might change our minds regarding our fertility. Collin’s twelve; I’ve never doubted my decision for only one…in twelve years.
Speaking of kids, they bring home lice. Collin was infested with lice by the time we figured out that’s what it was. I could see bugs crawling in and out of his hair, and I was picking them out, regularly, for days! Don’t judge my stupidity! I swear, I thought they were gnats. I kept looking at them, and thinking they had wings. I was sure they weren’t lice. I kept Googling what kind of bugs could infest your hair that weren’t lice. Try that search sometime. Know what the answer is? Lice. It was frustrating. Finally, we shaved his head to a buzz cut, because we were accusing him of just not washing well, and that’s why he kept getting these darn bugs. He ran his hand over his freshly cut head, and tons of bugs fell out. It was…gross. They were definitely lice. It was very obvious at that point what they looked like. That’s when the bells went off. For some reason, they looked different to me, at that point. Yes, I had it too. Yes, it was everywhere. Yes, I’m an idiot. No, I have no idea what I was thinking. I’d have sworn they had wings, staked my life on it. I believe the lice are all gone now. Thankfully, we have a very clean house, and it didn’t take much to disinfect it!
The worst part, to be honest, is that my hair is now past my belly button. Thanks to an irrational fear of cutting it. Getting that damn nit comb through that was a nightmare!
---But man-alive did it feel disgusting for a while there!
Kids…and Middle School
Collin promised me when he was very small, that he would stop growing once he was tall enough to ride the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland. He was quite sincere when he made the promise, as if he’d intended to keep it. That’s how little he was, young enough to believe his own words. I constantly remind him that he broke his promise about growing up. Now that he has clearly broken it, and he keeps getting older, and bigger, I sometimes wish he’d get on with the whole growing up bit, and reach 18, so he’d get through puberty already, because it’s making us crazy. Of course, I know that the days are long, but the years are short, and I’ll miss him when he’s out of here, making memories somewhere else, but someone, anyone, come tell me how to make my son care about schoolwork? His middle school orientation is next week. I can’t believe it. A few days ago, he was starting kindergarten, and now, he’s going to have a locker, be awkward, and go to dances. Time marches on.
Time Does March On
And on, and on, and on. I have physical therapy for my knee for another full YEAR. Can you imagine that. A year! Sure, they didn’t want to see me for over a week now, due to the whole crawling insects in my hair thing. They were even willing to waive the cancellation fees because they were the ones who were refusing to see me. I was willing to come in, but they didn’t want an infestation; something about all the pillows, sheets, towels and blankets they have there. I get it, I really do. But, I have a full year of sessions to make up for missing this last week. A few weeks ago, I had a session that made me cry, literal tears, all over the place. So, I’m not looking forward to my return, after such an absence. I’m sure it will suck, terribly. I have two therapists: one, whose personality I love, but who is cruel to my knee; one who’s gentle, but who has the personality of a wet blanket. It’s a great combination.
Which leads me to an update on my knee. I can now bend it greater than 90-degrees. This is pretty good progress. I am “allowed” to go without my brace, but I “should” put it on if it feels “funny,” or “weak.” How’s that for vague?” I’m allowed to start walking for exercise, something I tried on our treadmill this morning, and I could only handle for about ten minutes before my knee said, “well, that’s enough of that, little missy!” My knee is still very delicate; I tried vacuuming the other day, and I had to sit, for three straight days afterward, doing nothing but icing it. Apparently, all the pivoting involved with vacuuming was something I was not prepared for. I’m going to see Billy Idol/Bryon Adams next week (I know, be jealous); the concert venue has about nineteen billion stairs, so I’m a little nervous how my knee (braced or not) is going to handle that little doozie! Plus, I mean, how does one not dance?
I think that’s about all I can update you on…wait, except that I got an A as my final grade in my class. I am so proud of that! I was so nervous when I enrolled into this program. I didn’t trust my brain. What if it couldn’t handle thinking at that level again, or anymore. Academia is one thing. Harvard is quite another. I was terrified. I almost backed out. I’m so glad I stuck with the idea and proved to myself that my twice-operated brain could handle it. Sure, I have to proofread my stuff a lot more heavily, because I spell phonetically when I type, Sure, I have to take a lot more notes than I used to. I sometimes read a little more slowly. But damnit if I don’t love it as much as I used to. I’m reading academic articles again, for fun, academic texts, and more. I love school. I love learning, and I love what I’m doing. I feel alive again, and I’m so glad I took the risk.
P.S. Thanks for strolling down memory lane with me, enjoying all the pics of my boy when he was small and perfect. He’s still perfect now, he’s just not as squishy-cheeked and cherubic.