Stupid Arthritis

This is how far I can get my wedding ring on my finger, now.

My body is changing.

My knuckles are swollen.

My feet are too big for my sandals.

This morning, both of my hands were locked in a ridiculous claw formation, and I couldn't straighten them.  Comically, the fingers most affected were my middle ones, which left me totally unarmed against bad drivers, should I choose to display my displeasure with them.

What the %*&# ?

As you may have noticed, I have not been writing on this blog much.  This is due, in large part, to the fact that there isn't much to report ... aside from intimate details of my struggles with breast revision surgery, depression and post traumatic stress disorder.  None of these things warrant interesting posts, unless you are feeling like an exhibitionist, which - oddly - I am not.

I'm not certain when this desire for privacy descended upon me.  I obviously was not suffering from it when I made posts like about my nipple failure and cervix removal.  But, I guess time has created distance from the crisis of last year and I feel a little less like "here is my world: be in it" and a little more like "none of your business.  Leave me alone."

However, yesterday Jen posted that she hadn't seen an update in a while and that she hoped everything was better.  Me too.  Sadly, this is not in the cards for me.  I'm not sure what I have done to upset God or whatever greater power it is that holds meaning for you, but what the *&%#?

It appears as though another battle lies in front of me.  It is not cancer, luckily, but "possibly rheumatoid arthritis and/or a systemic disease that can affect all parts of the body."  Oh, also, there is no cure.  Whoop, whoop.  For this, I will break my blogger silence and for this I will again ask: "what the &^$@?"

It all started a few weeks ago with a little pain in my finger joints.  This has happened before, and is a documented side effect of Tamoxifen, the drug that I will take for five years to block the absorption of estrogen.  Three weeks ago, I saw my oncologist for a regular three-month visit and he told me to take some tylenol for the pain.  He also said that if that doesn't help, we could try something stronger, like ibuprofen.  Yes.  That is so re-assuring.  Tylenol will certainly help with the fact that I cannot bend my fingers enough to hold a toothbrush.

A week later, the pain was continuing to spread to other joints in my body.  Affected were: my right knee, the arches of both feet, both hands and my left ankle.  I called to complain about the lack of positive progress with the tylenol regimen and I was told to stop taking the tamoxifen for a three week trial.

The trial has proven to be a failure.  My symptoms are worse now than they were two weeks ago.  In fact, each day is more painful than the last.  Which reminds me of this quote from Office Space:

Peter Gibbons: "So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life."

Dr. Swanson: "What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?"

Peter Gibbons: "Yeah."

Dr. Swanson: "Wow, that's messed up."

Today is definitely not the worst day of my life.  Whatever this is, certainly cancer was worse.  But, yesterday, I could not put any weight on my left ankle; Scott offered to carry me to the shower.  I walk down the stairs with jerky and spastic movements that closely resemble Tucker fron There's Something About Mary.  I sleep with wrist braces.  I am unable to lift a gallon of milk with one hand.    I have been waking up with intense pain in my shoulder ... or thumbs ... or knees.  Luckily, the pain subsides over the course of the day and remains at bay until I enter a period of inactivity.  So, when most of you see me, I'm in fairly good shape.  It is only my family and work friends who see me in my morning crippledom.  I guess that is a silver lining.

In summary, I have an as-of-yet undiagnosed illness.  The preliminary bloodwork and my symptoms are consistent with rheumatoid arthritis and Sjogren's syndrome.  I am in the process of scheduling an appointment with apparent new best friend, the rheumatologist.  I'll know more in the coming weeks, but I would like to leave you with a list of possible symptoms to which I may look forward:

• corneal ulcerations
• autoimmune pancreatitis
• recurrent bronchitis
• a sore or cracked tongue
• primary biliary cirrhosis - whatever that is
• dental decay
• neurologic "problems" - as if I need any more of those
• debilitating fatigue
• nodular subcutaneous legions
• tethering of joint tissues
• deformity
• etc., etc., etc.
• Oh, and an increased risk of lymphoma - that old thing

Baby Mine

I just spent the evening with a woman who has a nine week-old baby and another woman who is pregnant.  I'm angry.  I'm jealous.  I'm nostalgic.  I'm seriously considering what I would have to do to convince Scott that he would like to adopt a third child.

I hate cancer.
I hate this stupid binder that I have to wear on my waist.
I hate the rain.
I hate

I hate everything.

I Say:

The end.

Misery

I am unable to get comfortable.

I am unable to sleep ... even with a cocktail of Oxycodone and Ambien.

Strangely, the part of my body causing me the most pain is my back.  There was nothing done to my back today.  My beloved Scott has tried everything.  He has propped my arms and unpropped my arms.  He has tried a heating pad.  He placed a small pillow between my shoulder blades.  He has moved me from the chair to the bed to the couch and then back to the chair and back to the bed.  He even tried lying flat on the floor with his arms in different positions to see if he could make his back hurt, thus pinpointing a cause.  Nothing.

This same thing happened after we came home from mastectomy in that I could control the pain in my chest by holding still, but the way that I held still caused immense discomfort in my shoulders.

It's strange how the body works.

In another hour, I can take more pain meds.  I pray that they buy me a couple hours of rest.

I also pray that part of the problem is the ace bandage tightly wrapped around my torso.  It comes off tomorrow.

So sad.

Out of Surgery

Just a quick update for all you followers - Liz is out of surgery!  We spoke to the surgeon, and he said everything went great.  We will be in the recovery room for a few hours, but should be home by dinner time.  We will update you later tonight or tomorrow.

Thanks for all the thoughts and prayers today!

Back to the O.R.

I haven't talked about it much, but I'm having another surgery on Tuesday.  It is elective.  There has been no more cancer found.  But, I will be going back to the hospital for a procedure meant to correct some of the things that did not turn out aesthetically right the first time around.

Although I have chosen to have this surgery, I am terrified of Tuesday.  As you may recall, I have previously had four surgeries and four times, something went wrong.  (A few of those times, several somethings.)

I worry about:

• going under general anesthesia
• getting an infection
• needing another blood transfusion
• not healing properly and developing necrotic tissue
• being in pain
• being unable to care for myself
• the results of the surgery being disappointing
• the surgeon accidentally happening upon another, previously unnoticed, tumor
• my children 
• Scott trying to work while caring for an invalid wife
• depression

There are a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head.  Most of them are not pleasant.  

Please pray that it all goes well.