Health in Seattle

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So I met with a doctor at the UW clinic in Northgate and I was super optimistic about being proactive in finding the cause of my chronic pain and fatigue, and then find the right treatment. I was prepared for the multiple specialists visits, the copays, the waiting game. 

I didn't go into the first appointing with hopes of a miracle answer day one. I wanted to just meet the doctor, feel her out, give her some of the complaints and ask her where we should proceed from there. During this time, not only was I having chronic back pain that began to prevent me from doing the best at my job and affecting my sleep, I also began to have heavy and excruciatingly painful periods that were lasting 1-2 months at a time! I went from having 3-4 periods per year since it all started at 13, to being 30 and almost bleeding constantly with maybe a full week of respite between if I was lucky. So, we set up a wellness exam to begin with. 

When I came back for the wellness exam, the periods were still killing me and I really wanted to get my blood tested to check my overall health. I was convinced that I was developing type 2 diabetes due to being so overweight, and I wanted to check everything that I could to get some answers. In hindsight I can see that my demands were a little all over the place and I just don't think that this young doctor had the experience in her belt to guide someone like me. She also wanted to do a pelvic exam at that visit, but I was so uncomfortable that I asked to just get a referral to a gyno. I did get a flu shot and updated my vaccines though!

After a long wait, I finally got an appointment at Rheumatologist to try to get some once and for all answers. Unfortunately I was not aware that it was going to be yet another, even younger, and male student doctor. His bedside manner was atrocious. He was short and thin and I could tell he immediately just focused on my weight. He listened absentmindedly to my history of do I or don't I have Lupus or some similar autoimmune. He asked me the same questions that even a generic google search could have come up with. Do I have light sensitivity? Where does it hurt? Have I ever had a urinalysis with protein spills? blah blah. Then he said that based on what I've said and answered, he doesn't believe that I have Lupus and isn't going to order any tests. He stood up and said he wanted to test something. He said he was going to press on some pressure points and I was to tell him if it hurts or was tender there. Every spot hurt. It both hurt and felt some kind of relief by being pressed, like the good pain of a massage. 

He excused himself from the room, and I was fuming mad. I felt like he just dismissed me completely. I didn't necessarily hope to have Lupus or another AI, what I hoped for was a doctor who listened to me, who explained things without dismissing me, and who was proactive in finding what was the actual cause of the pain. I sat there just allowing myself to get more and more angry, rather than calming myself down in order to speak up. 

He came back with an older male doctor who said he was his supervising doctor. That's when I realized that I was dealing with a n00b and it turned my anger from red to crimson. The older doctor just repeated what the younger one had said and then said that based on the pressure point exam, I have Fibromyalgia and they handed me a one page printout on what that means. Then they sent me home. No explanation of Fibromyalgia, no advice on how to deal with it, nothing at all about where to go from there. The print out basically told me that Fibromyalgia is a disorder that can't be tested for other than being pressed on and is determined by the doctor based on opinion. It also informed me that Fibromyalgia is often diagnosed when there just isn't any other explanation for the pain but that a certain percentage of the pressure points trigger pain when pressed. And the only treatment for Fibromyalgia was antidepressants, the one that I quit taking.

I remember sitting in my car thinking, That's it? That's the answer? I had a hard time accepting that Fibromyalgia explained everything based on how dismissive the doctors were with what I was actually saying, how little information they got from me before just deciding I have Fibromyalgia, and my gut just told me that it was wrong. I still don't know if it was a true diagnosis or not. 

Shortly after that appointment, I had my gyno appointment. I was so thrilled that it was a woman. I told her about my menstrual experience and also mentioned that I was concerned that it could be PCOS. I had been watching My Big Fat Fabulous Life on TLC and I had so much in common with Whitney's body and health issues. I could sense immediately that the gyno had inwardly rolled her eyes. I told her my symptoms that made me think that it was a possibility. She performed a pelvic exam, took a biopsy sample, swabbed for STD testing (because I asked), and talked me into getting a Mirena IUD with the promise that it would stop my heavy and irregular bleeding as well as being a birth control method. I trusted her, even though it wasn't what I was coming in for. But I desperately wanted the bleeding to stop, so I went for it. She told me it was super easy, she could do it right then and it may only cramp for a day or so afterward. I didn't feel anything at all when it was inserted and got up and walked out feeling like a woman in charge of her own body!

I'll continue this series on my health journey next week. 

xoxo Sheri

More Doctor Shit...

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And now a continuation of my story of navigating the American healthcare system. 

I moved to Seattle in 2014 and was suddenly faced with the reality that I needed to sign up for Obamacare. I was now self-employed and couldn't count on anyone else to provide me with health insurance. 

I signed up through wahealthplanfinder.org, but my income just couldn't support the monthly payments. Through some research, I found some free clinics, but I made too much money to qualify for them, yet didn't make enough money to pay for healthcare myself. It was a super frustrating time. I was also terribly homesick for AZ and my mental health was in a weak state. I finally found a church that offered some medical and dental services - Puget Sound Christian Clinic. It was somewhat income-based, but I qualified and they asked for a $10 donation for each visit, but if you couldn't pay it, they would still treat you. I tried my best to pay it each time. 

At this point in my life, I had gained a lot of weight. I was concerned about diabetes, the strain the weight was putting on my body - especially my knees and feet, and how it was affecting my overall wellbeing. One of the doctors on the clinic suggested that I go back on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications again. I was in such a shitty place that I agreed. I went back on generic Prozac at a dose of 20mg as well as a daily Buspirone dose. 20mg of Prozac was too much for me. It took me to a suicidal place quickly. I was able to go back to the doctor as ask for a lower dose. 10mg worked a lot better for me. The clinic was limited on what else they were able to do for me. I was still experience chronic pain but they weren't allowed to give prescriptions for any pain killers that actually worked and I got a lot of samples of Aleeve. They also didn't have the facilities to dig deeper and run any tests. 

I stayed on the prozac for over a year and I was less diligent with the Buspirone. I just never saw a difference in anxiety with or without it. But what happened with the Prozac is that it made me a zombie. It did it's job in the beginning and was helpful when I was in a hopeless place. I needed the help to just allow myself to survive. Then life got better. I established my home in Seattle and became a true resident. I moved apartments and found one that I loved and nested. I was ready to be happy and take control of my life, but the Prozac was preventing me from feeling really anything at all. I spent all my free time just sitting. I was perfectly content just watching TV and being on my phone and avoiding anything magical about life. I didn't want to clean but nor was I bothered by the mess. I had zero motivation for any of the things that I loved. I wasn't depressed, I didn't feel badly, I just didn't feel anything. Joy was rare but so was crippling sadness. 

I had this moment of realization that I was capable of handling myself and my struggles now. I felt secure in the life I set up. Money was a little better. Life was looking up, but I was missing out on it. So, I decided to stop taking the meds. It was a big decision and not one that I made in hast. I talked to my beloved godmother and told her of my decision. I talked to her about it so someone was aware of the change. I needed her to keep an eye on me and look out for any behavioral changes that I may not notice. I talked with my best friend too and asked the same of her. It was a little scary to take away that crutch, but I just really want to feel things again. To me, it was worth the risk of possible discomfort in order to get my personality back. 

I got back on wahealthplanfinder.org in 2016 and selected UW as my provider. I was ready to take charge of my health and search for answers again. I thought that going to a doctor associated with the university would be up-to-date and possible have some new ideas for treatment than I've experienced in the past. What the reality was, was that I was going to be treated by student doctors with limited experience. I wasn't going in for colds or sprains, I was searching for answers to what appeared to be complex issues in my body. 

I developed this chronic pain in my back on the right upper quadrant.  I referred to it as my Marco spot because I thought it was caused from carrying a baby predominately on my right side. It made sense and I tried to consciously hold him on my left side whenever possible, but it just hurt all the time. The area experienced all the types of pain: throbbing, aching, dull, sharp, stabbing, radiating, etc. It affected my quality of sleep, my abilities at work, my temperament. It brought up the decade long questions of "Is this Lupus? Is this a different auto-immune disease?" or is this something else? Is this caused by the weight gain? Am I so large that my body is just falling apart at the age of 30? I'm 6'2" with a strong and sturdy skeletal/muscle frame, but I was carrying 345 pounds of weight. It was the heaviest I had ever been and I was feeling it. 

So I met with my new doctor. She was young and sweet and had a great bedside manner. She seemed ready to listen and eager to help me find answers. I felt like I was on the right track and was about to get some answers. And this is where I will leave off until next time. Thanks for reading and as always, I would love to hear from you in the comments. Tell me about your struggles and successes and whatever else you'd like to share. 

xoxoSheri

Going Back "Home"

I'm taking my first visit back to Arizona today. It feels differently than I thought it would. I don't think I really allowed myself to be homesick. Was Phoenix even my home? LA isn't my home either. Phoenix isn't my native land, but it is familiar and holds a certain comfort despite any grumpiness I still hold for it. There is comfort in knowing where all the best Starbucks are and knowing which Target is the good Target.

I didn't think I would be excited to go back. I think I'm inherently a bridge burner, and when I leave places I don't necessarily intend on going back, even if I know at some point I will. 

Going back to LA the first few times felt like I was running back home to something comfortable and I had friends I was dying to see, and parents to avoid. I ran home to LA frequently, at first. Then Tempe and ASU became my home and I didn't need the security of going back so often. My trips became more like holiday visits rather than an escape from loneliness. 

I'm in a different place this time. Yes, I did run from Phoenix to Seattle in a similar way I moved from LA to Phx. I wasn't running for survival though, or toward a big plan, like college. Seattle still feels like the place that I'm supposed to be, but Phoenix is the home of my hero and my favorite person. I knew that I was choosing to move away from her. I knew that I was hoping to find my own freedom and give her some space. I was feeling like I never found my place in Phoenix and in her home, so it would just be easier if I grew up and made my own home and found my own place. I haven't yet. It's only been 4 months and I need to give it time. That leaves me going back to Phoenix probably a little too eager. I'm fearful that I will come back to Seattle and all the sparkle will be gone and all I will see is that I'm alone; I'm not making the progress that I thought I magically would in a new city.  It took two years to settle into AZ, to be fair. I just don't want to allow myself to pass time without meaning, and I feel like that's what I've been doing. 

I'm so happy to see a few people that I miss dearly, but I'm not telling the whole city that I'm coming. It's too overwhelming to try to see everyone. I'm there for work, anyway. I won't be there on my own schedule. 

I hope for emotional maturity and a sense of clarity. I hope to enjoy my time there and to look forward to coming home to Seattle with a new sense of vigor for my current life, and not dwell on missing what I left behind. 

xoxo Sheri

Living in a New City

Let's start off by explaining how cliché I am right now. I am sitting in a busy Starbucks on a busy street in Seattle, WA. I feel like the only way that I could get closer to being a Hipster is if I was typing on typewriter in a vegan underground coffee shop and taking photos of the pages on my new iPhone 6 and uploading to my Tumblr, my blog, and my Instagram (Facebook is too mainstream).

So, here I am; sitting at a table that faces the window on this busy street. There's a woman outside in a white puffy down vest taking a photo of her dog with her new gold iPhone 6 (Ugh, the envy). I've taken a break from my phone and all electronic contact with people, for the weekend. I am finding myself finally feeling the loneliness and the depression of starting over in a new city. Although, I must make it a point to state that it has nothing to do with the gloomy weather. The weather isn't even gloomy by my standards. There are rainy mornings and sunny afternoons. It's perfect weather for leggings - my favorite staple of clothing - and ankle boots - today, mine are Toms suede and lamb lined ankle boots. The weather allows for thin long sleeves shirts and either a vest, a light North Face neon jacket, or a hoodie. I'm loving the weather, so it's not that.

Part of my cheerlessness is credited to my sudden realization that I am the one who left. I left California, and besides my brothers and my best friend, I have been all but forgotten. But, I was the one who left. Now, it's happening again. So many people were sad to see me leave Phoenix, and it left me hopeful that they would all make the effort to keep in touch.

I had all the parents I worked for sad to see a good babysitter walk out of their lives. Their children shed tears with me when I saw them for the last time and said my goodbyes. But, I don't know what I expected from them? Without throwing the world's largest pity party, I guess I expected kids to call me and tell me they miss me. But, they're children. Children are known for short attention spans and letting go of babysitter loyalty in favor of the brand new shiny one. I can hardly blame a child, but it hurts nonetheless. But that being said, I was the one who left.

Another thing that is hard for me are my peers. In Los Angeles, hardly anyone made contact with me in AZ. Arizona is a drab and hot place that no Angelino would willing travel to. No one really understood my reasoning or my entire story and how desperately I had to run away from it. No one asked why I was leaving either. As for peers in Phoenix, when I left, I didn't have many. All of my college colleagues, I had broken ties with way before my move. I was learning who I am as an adult and it was hard to relate to people who were still living life as college ragers. Or there was the friend who married and had a child. As much as I tried to be a part of that, I had to realize that they were building a new life together, and I was no longer the best friend. My guaranteed placed next to the queen, was no longer guaranteed. I had some teaching "peers" but we were not truly peers. We may have worked together, but I was a freshling from college and they were mostly married, with or without kids, and as close as we were at work, I wasn't part of their life outside of those school gates. But again, is that a fault of anyone? It's just how life works.

Lastly, there is my family. All I left in California were my brothers (I had extended family, but at that point in my life I wasn't in contact with much, if any, of them), and left them I sure did. It was the hardest move that I have ever made, and it's one that I have both regrets and contentment about. I regret every living day leaving my youngest brother with his mother. But it was a choice that was not mine to make. I could have fought, kicked and screamed and made a legal battle out of it. But, that would have been for more selfish reasons than for his sake. He is a young innocent who still thinks his parents are worthy of the title. I believed I would be doing more harm than good to begin that battle. At the same time, I wanted freedom for the first time in my life. I loved my brothers as if they were my own sons. I took responsibility for them as if they were. But, I had never been my own person and lived my own life. I had never strived for goals that were purely selfish. With them in mind, however, I knew that if I stayed, I would have never strived for more for myself and in turn more for them. I would have given my life over to being a mother and struggling every step of the way. My biggest goal in life was to be educated, and I knew that was the only path to my freedom, so I left.

In terms of my oldest younger brother, if that makes any sense, I am satisfied with my decision to leave. I loved him just as much, of course, and I had a much longer history with him. But, he was at his own crossroads of life. I wanted to live it for him and take away all the pain and struggle and give him a good life, but by doing that I was taking away his ability to take care of himself. He has grown into more than I could ever wish for and has proved that he didn't need me after all. Now, I even turn to him with my weaknesses. He's the only one who has seen my stronger times and I often need reminding to be that person again.

I left LA, in a way, to be a part of a family in Phoenix. My godmother has been and always will be my hero and savior. That being said, she has the most power to unknowingly break my heart. I am so damn sensitive when it comes to her love and attention that I am often found sitting in a pool of my lonely tears when I don't have her attention. It is so childish and such a weakness of mine, but I have yet to learn how to find my own strength and not turn to her for every bad moment that I have. I haven't told anyone, but my bff, that a large reason that I decided so easily to leave Phoenix was because I spent so much of my time waiting for her attention and affection. Now, I must say, she has never withheld it from me. She has never been unkind and selfish with her love. But she is a mother, a true mother of her own flesh and blood. I realized, early in my life in Phoenix, that I will never be her child. I have disowned my own parents, and for good reasons, but that leaves an emptiness inside me that I would have never expected. Even with shitty parents, they were my parents, and I belong to someone. But I hated belonging to them. Once I cut them out, I had this gaping hole inside me for someone, anyone, to guide me. I often filled that hole with men, but thank the Lord that I realized how vile and self-harming that could end up. With the excitement of moving to Phoenix, I felt like I was finally going to be a part of a true and good family. And I was, like a bastard child from a previous love affair. They did their best, they truly did. They gave me love, they gave me guidance, they gave financial assistance from time to time. But I was a grown adult, no matter how battered and ruined I was, I was my own keeper.

I spent six years in Phoenix. For six years, I searched for myself and for the most part I found more than I ever hoped for, and learned some parts of myself that I would have rather left hidden. I gained friends and I lost them. I loved, I truly loved a man and to a certain extent, and I think it's fair to say that at the time he loved me back as best as he knew how. I learned so much about who I am, but much about what I have learned is that I am hurting. I found some things to fulfill me, but I also opened the doors that lead to cavernous halls of black echoes. Who the hell am I and who am I meant to be? The biggest question of them all is, How do let go of all this pain and become that person? How do I get over this period of sorrow for my own life and find strength to climb my mountains again? For six years, I turned to my godmother as if she had the answers for me. She had great guidance, but in those six year I learned a huge lesson, she's only human as well. She's not a magical mythical creature who knows all the answers and who has a magical love that could fill my emptiness and cure me of all my weaknesses. She has hugs, she has sass, she has gifts, and she has wit. But, she does not have my answers. I wish, in the least, she had more time for me. But I have learned how amazingly and unfortunately similar we are. She has her own caves, her own fears, her own sorrows that she battles daily. She also has her own joys, her own children, her own responsibility. It's the hardest lesson to learn and understand that I am no longer her responsibility and I probably leaned on her and her family with too much desperation. I can only hope that this break from me, however much sadness may come with it, also comes with a breath of fresh air.

That leaves me here, in Seattle, alone and forever wondering. I want nothing more than for someone to call me and tell me that they are thinking of me and missing me as desperately as I miss them. But this week, that voice inside myself had made it loud and clear that I am the one who left. I am the one who must make the effort. I am a Scorpio and I have a huge air of my own self-importance and I need to hush that a bit. I need confidence and not arrogance. No one person owes me anything. No one owes me love or friendship, I must earn it and make the first steps. I must reach out, and be okay with not everyone having time or desire to extend an arm back to me. It may be personal, if truth be told, or it may be that others are having struggles in their lives as I am. I have to refocus my looking glass. It can't always be pointing it toward myself. I've lived in my head for nearly 29 years, and it's exhausting. I need to open up to the needs of others and through service and exploration I am bound to find what I am looking for.

Xoxo Sheri