As promised I will finish my story. But this song I just found made me cry. It perfectly sums up how relationships are will depression. (I was the bird.)
It's death cab for cutie, which, I would have to say sets the mood well, but the lyrics are something else.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieow7mI8fBU&feature=bf_next&list=AL94UKMTqg-9BFxQEyhQ-K-SgDTexUinHL
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Physical Therapy
Apparently I actually had several choices in therapists and they all had a waiting list a mile long too. Between work (I had graduated high school early and was working full time until college) and life I hedged my bets and scheduled an appointment with each. Each saying they might be able to get in sooner.
(Here is where I need to make a side note. I will insult doctors all day long, but I do not have the extended negative experiences with several therapists to insult physical therapists. I only had experience with one therapist. Therapy was probably the most horrible and scary thing ever. If anything I say about it from here on out sounds bad, its because it was, not because it wasn't worth it. It was also not the fault of my therapist but the nature of my problem.)
When I finally got in for a consultation I got into the system and could have weekly appointments. They went on for about a year and continued to be scary as hell. The idea of a stranger going inside me to fix an internal muscle was too weird to handle. Although, initially I was so fucked up I had to be on muscle relaxants to even be capable of handling therapy.
You think after a year the scary would start to go away. No. It was like once I got my head around the idea of this whole thing I went of the muscle relaxants and everything hurt like hell again. Once I got used to the idea of therapy without a pill to help, she upped the ante. I hit a plateau, so dry needling was in order. This is where the therapist finds a knot in your muscle and shoves an acupuncture needle in it, moves it around in the knot for about ten seconds while you scream in pain. At least she gave me a burlap voodoo doll looking thing to try to rip in half each time. Him and I became good friends eventually.
Therapy is work. For the therapist and the patient. I think 1/2 of her work was making small talk to get your mind off the fact of the weirdness that is occurring. Half of my work was learning to chill the fuck out.
As for my relationship situation I was still with that same guy from high school believe it or not. My therapist was constantly asking me questions about what I was becoming capable of doing again. Each time she assumed that my boyfriend would be a typical angsty 19-year-old who got pissed that he was cut off in his sexual prime. She was impressed when I kept telling her examples that he was always pushing me to do a little more than I thought I could, but never tried to make me do something I didn't want to or couldn't.
(Here is where I need to make a side note. I will insult doctors all day long, but I do not have the extended negative experiences with several therapists to insult physical therapists. I only had experience with one therapist. Therapy was probably the most horrible and scary thing ever. If anything I say about it from here on out sounds bad, its because it was, not because it wasn't worth it. It was also not the fault of my therapist but the nature of my problem.)
When I finally got in for a consultation I got into the system and could have weekly appointments. They went on for about a year and continued to be scary as hell. The idea of a stranger going inside me to fix an internal muscle was too weird to handle. Although, initially I was so fucked up I had to be on muscle relaxants to even be capable of handling therapy.
You think after a year the scary would start to go away. No. It was like once I got my head around the idea of this whole thing I went of the muscle relaxants and everything hurt like hell again. Once I got used to the idea of therapy without a pill to help, she upped the ante. I hit a plateau, so dry needling was in order. This is where the therapist finds a knot in your muscle and shoves an acupuncture needle in it, moves it around in the knot for about ten seconds while you scream in pain. At least she gave me a burlap voodoo doll looking thing to try to rip in half each time. Him and I became good friends eventually.
Therapy is work. For the therapist and the patient. I think 1/2 of her work was making small talk to get your mind off the fact of the weirdness that is occurring. Half of my work was learning to chill the fuck out.
As for my relationship situation I was still with that same guy from high school believe it or not. My therapist was constantly asking me questions about what I was becoming capable of doing again. Each time she assumed that my boyfriend would be a typical angsty 19-year-old who got pissed that he was cut off in his sexual prime. She was impressed when I kept telling her examples that he was always pushing me to do a little more than I thought I could, but never tried to make me do something I didn't want to or couldn't.
Getting a Diagnosis
Finding a new urologist was not easy. Going to the best one in Denver was hard to top. Desperate, my mom scheduled an appointment at a different practice. All we could get was the kidney cancer specialist.
We told the old physicians assistant that I was constantly in pain now. She gave me samples of Vessicare, like the stop old lady urges to go pee drug, when I got my medical records. I don't know why I thought to even try them when the pain peaked. Maybe it was all I could do. Maybe I wanted that to be the solution.
The kidney cancer specialist looked at me confused. He said he wasn't the guy to help me. He did do something nobody else had though. He found me a competent doctor for my problems. She was downtown and had a waiting list a mile long. That was discouraging, but I figured it had to be a good sign.
I finally got in. I was scared. I had high BP, for the first time ever. After the nurse the doc stopped by to question me. She said she would be back after the patients that were before me. About a million patients later she finally returned. Laying in the pelvic exam position with feet on the stirrups, (ladies, you know what I am talking about) she tried to do an exam. It took her about 3 minutes to talk me down from clenching every muscle I had. Once I was relaxed, she tried to examine and I yelled out in pain. About four seconds of pain later she stopped because she wasn't getting anywhere. It didn't matter though. She had a diagnosis.
Apparently I had pelvic floor dysfunction. I super fun thing where you are incapable of relaxing your pelvic floor muscles on command. Not only are these the muscles for sex, but they hold all of your organs in. The clenching was apparently shooting spasms to my bladder and god knows what else. I learned that it is a response to trauma. Having never had any sexual abuse or other issues I was puzzled. It took months to make the UTI and allergy connection.
I had to go to physical therapy she told me. The idea was nerve wracking. I got a list from her of qualified people in my area. It was the last thing I wanted to do.
We told the old physicians assistant that I was constantly in pain now. She gave me samples of Vessicare, like the stop old lady urges to go pee drug, when I got my medical records. I don't know why I thought to even try them when the pain peaked. Maybe it was all I could do. Maybe I wanted that to be the solution.
The kidney cancer specialist looked at me confused. He said he wasn't the guy to help me. He did do something nobody else had though. He found me a competent doctor for my problems. She was downtown and had a waiting list a mile long. That was discouraging, but I figured it had to be a good sign.
I finally got in. I was scared. I had high BP, for the first time ever. After the nurse the doc stopped by to question me. She said she would be back after the patients that were before me. About a million patients later she finally returned. Laying in the pelvic exam position with feet on the stirrups, (ladies, you know what I am talking about) she tried to do an exam. It took her about 3 minutes to talk me down from clenching every muscle I had. Once I was relaxed, she tried to examine and I yelled out in pain. About four seconds of pain later she stopped because she wasn't getting anywhere. It didn't matter though. She had a diagnosis.
Apparently I had pelvic floor dysfunction. I super fun thing where you are incapable of relaxing your pelvic floor muscles on command. Not only are these the muscles for sex, but they hold all of your organs in. The clenching was apparently shooting spasms to my bladder and god knows what else. I learned that it is a response to trauma. Having never had any sexual abuse or other issues I was puzzled. It took months to make the UTI and allergy connection.
I had to go to physical therapy she told me. The idea was nerve wracking. I got a list from her of qualified people in my area. It was the last thing I wanted to do.
The Begining
Doctor's don't view you holistically. I can say that phrase sums up my life better than anything else.
Before I start blogging selfishly and indulgently, assuming the masses will follow my every idea, you should have some background on me. Be aware. I'm not afraid to get gross and graphic. I'm hoping I can help survivors of any illness with some reality to share.
I had chronic bladder infections as a kid, like fourth grade kid. They seemed to become resistant to everything and I remember being on antibiotics for months at a time. Symptoms stopped seeming to correlate with infection. I would feel fine and test positive and vice verse. I underwent a million medical tests, and I was normal. Nothing anatomically wrong. I didn't seem to have a reason that these did not go away. I was lucky to have a bathroom attached to my bedroom I would go to the bathroom, let it sit overnight and smell it tomorrow. Awful smell=positive. Then I would see the doctor. If negative, the symptoms would go away within the day. I also avoided going to the bathroom before car trips and field trips, because that seemed to make symptoms come up.
Eventually this was in my past. I almost forgot about it. Until I started having sex in high school. Everything was fine at first. I was with one guy, in a way to committed and serious relationship for a high schooler. Then I got another UTI. Went to the ER because my doctor didn't have time for me. Got on meds. Got better.
When I finally got a doctor that would give me the time of day, I got on the pill. This is when I found out I was allergic to semen. Yeah, that's a thing. I knew for sure when the glands that are in your inner lips swelled so big that it looked like I had my own testicles. That was interesting. The boyfriend thought so too.
Then I got another UTI. Quick results were negative, but this was nothing new for me. However, the culture was negative. False negative I was assured. Apparently it happens a lot with cultures. I got antibiotics, took them, was fine. I also discovered Azo, a UTI pain killer of my dreams! Then it happened again. It happened so many times I had to see a urologist. The best one in my town!
The urologist gave me a HUGE prescription of antibiotics. He said it was ridiculous I had to keep coming in to get them. We discussed prevention a lot. So when I got another infection and took the pills. I did this a few times with some Azo too, until the pills stopped working. Resistance I told myself. Fantastic.
I went back to meet with the physician's assistant. She reprimanded me like a child. I didn't drink enough water. I didn't go to the bathroom enough. "I know your friends can go the whole day at school without going to the bathroom, but you can't!" Thanks lady. Can I go pee in the cup now?
Quick test negative. Culture negative "But finish your dose of new antibiotics anyway! You said they were making you feel better." I guess they were helping a little... I couldn't really tell after the new UTI pain meds they gave me. Time for a new urologist....
Before I start blogging selfishly and indulgently, assuming the masses will follow my every idea, you should have some background on me. Be aware. I'm not afraid to get gross and graphic. I'm hoping I can help survivors of any illness with some reality to share.
I had chronic bladder infections as a kid, like fourth grade kid. They seemed to become resistant to everything and I remember being on antibiotics for months at a time. Symptoms stopped seeming to correlate with infection. I would feel fine and test positive and vice verse. I underwent a million medical tests, and I was normal. Nothing anatomically wrong. I didn't seem to have a reason that these did not go away. I was lucky to have a bathroom attached to my bedroom I would go to the bathroom, let it sit overnight and smell it tomorrow. Awful smell=positive. Then I would see the doctor. If negative, the symptoms would go away within the day. I also avoided going to the bathroom before car trips and field trips, because that seemed to make symptoms come up.
Eventually this was in my past. I almost forgot about it. Until I started having sex in high school. Everything was fine at first. I was with one guy, in a way to committed and serious relationship for a high schooler. Then I got another UTI. Went to the ER because my doctor didn't have time for me. Got on meds. Got better.
When I finally got a doctor that would give me the time of day, I got on the pill. This is when I found out I was allergic to semen. Yeah, that's a thing. I knew for sure when the glands that are in your inner lips swelled so big that it looked like I had my own testicles. That was interesting. The boyfriend thought so too.
Then I got another UTI. Quick results were negative, but this was nothing new for me. However, the culture was negative. False negative I was assured. Apparently it happens a lot with cultures. I got antibiotics, took them, was fine. I also discovered Azo, a UTI pain killer of my dreams! Then it happened again. It happened so many times I had to see a urologist. The best one in my town!
The urologist gave me a HUGE prescription of antibiotics. He said it was ridiculous I had to keep coming in to get them. We discussed prevention a lot. So when I got another infection and took the pills. I did this a few times with some Azo too, until the pills stopped working. Resistance I told myself. Fantastic.
I went back to meet with the physician's assistant. She reprimanded me like a child. I didn't drink enough water. I didn't go to the bathroom enough. "I know your friends can go the whole day at school without going to the bathroom, but you can't!" Thanks lady. Can I go pee in the cup now?
Quick test negative. Culture negative "But finish your dose of new antibiotics anyway! You said they were making you feel better." I guess they were helping a little... I couldn't really tell after the new UTI pain meds they gave me. Time for a new urologist....
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