Beautiful Weight

     I know you think that your words are helpful or encouraging or even just funny. But they're not. They actually hurt a lot. When I was put on prednisone for the first time I had no idea the kind of terrible awful impact that drug would have on my life. And yet, it's one of the many medications I take daily to help keep me alive. I've tried backing off of it and trying something else but my body is relying on that steroid daily to keep me from slipping into anaphylaxis. So I stay on it, because right now that's my only option.
     Prednisone is notorious for causing weight gain. You haven't had carb cravings from a steroid until it's 2am, you're half asleep wondering where you moved the bread to so that you can make a grilled cheese sandwich. I hate prednisone. Trust me, I hate gaining weight. I hate that this medication makes me gain weight. I'm trying everything I can to lose weight and curb future weight gain from this devil drug. But with conditions I can't work out like everyone else. I can only go for walks. I can't lift weights because I'll become fatigued and dizzy and pass out. I can't go for runs because my heart rate can't control itself and I'll end up with an irregular heartbeat and in the ER. I try to limit my intake but I'm on such a high sodium diet that my foods are by nature going to be of the unhealthy kind. I would love to not eat Ramen for breakfast anymore but right now that's my best option.
     So when I'm eating a snack, you saying "ugh you know that'll go straight to your hips" isn't funny at all. I know you laugh after saying it but I don't. I go home and try not to cry because I know I don't look my absolute best right now. I also know it'll be months.. maybe years until I can get back to a "normal" weight again. And what happens when I'm on this medication long term? When these six months turn into a year or two years? Now I have to think about what you think about my weight for another couple of years.
     I know you are trying to be kind when you offer to workout with me. Because you think that you can motivate me to push past my limits. But my limits are there for a reason. I used to be able to lift weights and run and sure, I may still be able to do that today but that will reek absolute havoc on my body. And the last thing I want to do is hold you back from your workout goals because I can't stand up anymore because I tried pushing past my limits.
     But my absolute comment is "man Elizabeth, it looks like you've lost weight this week." I haven't trust me. I've been standing on the scale every night hoping that maybe that would be true and it's not. I know you're trying to be encouraging but that comment isn't encouraging at all. Especially when once again I find myself on the scale hoping that something has changed. And then looking down and realizing either nothing has changed or I've gained more weight.
     I have a positive body image about myself.. Well, as positive as it can be. I know that I am beautifully and wonderfully made. But lately all of these comments about my weight have started to turn that positivity into negativity. So, I'm asking you kindly. Please stop mentioning my weight. Please keep your helpful and not so helpful comments about my weight to yourself. Because I'm over here trying to live my best life with or without all of my extra beautiful weight brought on by something that's helping to keep me ALIVE.

With Love,
Elizabeth <3

I'm Trying

    I am trying my hardest to be happy in my life right now. I am trying to be excited about this new chapter in my life and all of the new adventures ahead of me but it's been extremely difficult. I broke down this morning because I miss my church in Nebraska. I had made such a great life for me in Nebraska but all of a sudden I've been uprooted and having to figure everything out all over again. But I'm trying. So here's what's been going on the last few weeks while trying to get my life back together.

Beach Weekend!
     The family and I took a weekend trip to the beach in California. It was hard because my POTs was acting up. I adventured around California with my camelbak backpack filled with water and tried to stay as hydrated as possible. I'm trying to not let my illnesses get in my way. I'm finding ways to adapt to them and to try to be as normal as possible. But even after all of my adapting by the end of the weekend I was exhausted both mentally and physically. But even though I was flushed and dizzy most of the weekend I did have a good time. I got to walk along the beach and racked up about 5 miles of walking throughout the weekend which is amazing for me! I also tried boogie boarding, which didn't work out to well because I got slammed against the rocks and pushed under the waves, and then admitted defeat to the ocean and just watched from a distance.

First Hospital Visit in Las Vegas!
     Tuesday morning I was hope alone, except for the AC guys who were up in the attic. I don't know what happened. I was completely fine one minute and then the next minute I was a gonner. I always call the fire department when I have a reaction because it can go from bad to extremely bad really quickly. I called. They were having a hard time finding me. In Nebraska you were able to go online and fill out a form that would be kept in the dispatch system. My form basically said if they received a call from my number and no answer to automatically send help and my address for when I am unable to speak. But here in Vegas we don't have that system so they were having a difficult time finding me. The dispatcher asked if I was able to make it outside. I could but not all the way out to the street. The fire truck couldn't see me from where I was sitting so they kept driving. They were finally able to find me and took me to the hospital. My mom met me there and was able, for the first time, to see the reality of my mast cell activation disorder. They were able to give me my usual steroid, nebulizer treatments, and benadryl to help calm my reactions. Only after my two rounds of epi.

Another Ear Infection!
     Shortly after getting back from the beach I started getting extremely feverish. Like I would be running a fever of 103 and could not get it to break no matter how hard I tried. At first I thought it was just my body getting used to a change in my blood pressure medication dosage but one morning I woke up with extreme pain in my left ear. I was crying it hurt so bad. My friend drove me to Urgent Care where I have never been so humiliated by a "doctor". I'm used to medical professionals not believing me because my illnesses are invisible. And as frustrating as that is, I understand it. But this doctor completely dismissed the fact that I came in with a high fever, irregular heart rate, and extreme ear pain. She told me to stop being a drug seeker and was trying to discharge me without even looking at my ear! I finally talked her into just looking in my ear. And even after confirming that I did have a major ear infection she still wouldn't give me an antibiotic! Claiming that I was only trying to get add another medication to my list... Why? Why would I want to add ANOTHER medication to my list? Why would I want go through another set of side effects and take another pill if I really didn't have to. I needed the antibiotic to get better from the ear infection. After having to fight for the care I needed she finally wrote me a scrip for Z-packs and she had me escorted out of urgent care by security. I won't be going back to their facility anymore.

...Yet Another Allergic Reaction!
     On Friday, we had a family dinner. My parents were out of town camping but the rest of my family was there. I had yet another reaction. I couldn't immediately peg what caused it but I started to get extremely nauseous. I walked back over to my apartment and got sick shortly after getting home. I took two Benadryl and sat down on the floor to wait for them to kick in and make the nausea go away. (Gosh, I can't wait until I can get IM benadryl that will work faster.) The anaphylaxis hit again, fast, like always. I called my mom because that's what our deal was. My dad answered her phone and stayed on the phone with me until my Grandma and my uncle were able to come sit with me. By the time they got over to me I had already administered epi. They didn't understand why even though I was doing better I needed to go to the hospital. But my protocol is as soon as there is airway involvement I have to give epi, and if I give epi I have to go to the ER. My grandpa was kind enough to drive me to the ER and sit in the waiting room while I got checked out. I was taken back and was stable for a while. While sitting and waiting for the doctor I had a secondary rebound. The nurse came to check on me because she could hear me breathing... She hooked me up to the heart and O2 monitor, and umm well it wasn't good. I was sitting at 78% which is not great. The doctor came in and ordered benadryl IV, pepcid, and a steroid I had never gotten before. The nurse pushed the steroid first and all of a sudden it felt like my whole body was on fire. All I could do is scream and try to breathe. It burned so so bad. The nurse quickly pushed the benadryl and sat with me until the burning sensation dulled a bit. They moved me to a room right across from the nurses station so they could keep a constant eye on me. Which always makes me feel more at ease. They gave me IV normal saline and a neb treatment and then ended up releasing me later that night. After all of that we realized that the reaction was indeed caused by the antibiotics the cooky doctor from the night before put me on. The ER doc prescribed a new one before I left which was nice.

Keeping On!
     Even though the past few weeks have been a complete roller coaster that I feel like I can't get off of. A roller coaster that I don't want to be on I'm still trying to keep my spirits up. My new roommate and I met my parents up in the mountains and went for a short hike. I'm still trying to keep my hopes up and not let all of this medical jargon get the best of me. I'm trying and I think I'm doing a pretty good job at trying. I will keep my hope in Christ. Because I know he has a plan for me. Let's keep trying friends! Let's not lose hope. Because one day, it'll get better.

With Love,
Elizabeth <3

I Know It Doesn't Look Like It....

   
      I know it didn't look like it when I first walked into your 24 hour urgent care clinic, but I was struggling to stay standing.
      I know it didn't look like it when your nurse first came out to greet me and brought me back to take my vitals but every step I was taking felt like another brick was being stacked on top of my chest.
      I know it didn't look like it when you first came in to the exam room but I was trying to keep my eyes open even though the world was spinning faster than I could handle.
      I know it doesn't look like it, but I am struggling. I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't. I wouldn't have come here asking you to stick another needle in my arm and give me yet another bag of fluids. Hoping... praying that this bag of fluids would help me get on top of my symptoms for at least the next couple of days.
     I know it doesn't look like it but I'm at the end of my rope. I've had enough of this and I'm about ready to give up, to throw in the towel and quit fighting.
     I know it doesn't look like I trust in your abilities to understand what I'm going through or that I actually need help. But I do. I just need you to prove to me that you're willing to understand.

     "I know it doesn't look like it..." is how I've started every doctor's appointment recently and it's how I started my last minute trip to urgent care tonight for fluids because the dizziness and weakness has gotten to the point I can no longer handle it. I get it. I look normal, I look like your healthy 21 year old who has nothing wrong with her. But that's why they call it an invisible illness. My POTS got so bad today that there were multiple times I fell to the floor and just decided that trying to get back up wasn't even worth the fight. My heart rate had been so high all day that by 3pm I felt like I had ran a marathon and didn't want to do anything anymore. I was frustrated and fed up that I took myself to the 24 hour urgent care to see if there was anything they could do to help. When they first took my vitals they got a BP of 156/122. I asked if they could retake it because I knew it wasn't right. They rolled their eyes but did retake it. That time my bp was 104/78. My heart rate was 110. Neither of those were considered emergent but after three days of that I'm starting to not be able to handle the dizziness and shortness of breath. When the doctor came in and asked me what was going on I told him that I was dizzy and weak and short of breath. He told me it didn't really look like I was in any sort of distress. So he ordered a urine analysis to see if I was dehydrated and left. He came back and said everything checked out but asked if I still wanted to get a bag of fluids. I said yes.
      They went to move me from the exam room to the infusion room and when I stood up I passed out.. Out cold. They took my bp while I was out and it was 78/56. I TOLD YOU I WASN'T LYING that I was actually struggling. They wheeled me back and started a bag of fluids, and then a second one. We finally got my bp up to 118/80 which I was comfortable enough to go home with.
     The frustrating thing about having an chronic/invisible/rare illness is that even when you're feeling completely shitty and worn down and trying to keep your head above water you still have to be your own advocate. You still have to educate the medical professionals around you to get the help that you need, to get the help that you deserve. The last thing I want to do when I walk in through the ER or urgent care doors is to have to fight with a doctor to get the treatment that I know will help me. In the end it worked out, I was able to get the treatment that I needed and the doctor took some time to ask me questions about what postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome is and how it affects my day to day life. Hopefully the next time I have to go in or someone else who suffers from this doesn't face the same fight I did. This is why we educate, this is why we advocate for ourselves and others. Keep up the good work warriors we can do it!

With Love,
Elizabeth <3

Fuel The Fight

    Hello friends! It's been a week. I have moved back across the country to Las Vegas and I have officially been here a full two days. And man they have been a full two days. I'm still extremely overwhelmed, like mental breakdown at 4pm because I can't find my favorite pajama shorts amist all the half open boxes. But before I get to that mental breakdown lets start at the very beginning... Getting to Vegas.
     I left Nebraska around 8am and my parents didn't leave until around noon. We were planning on stopping in a town about 4 hours west of Colorado. I was about an hour out and just getting past the mountain when it hit. It started with the itchy chest and the feeling of fire ants in the back of my throat. I managed to choke back two benardryl and some water. I thought maybe this would just be a small reaction so I kept driving. About ten minutes later it was full force. I pulled over on the side of the interstate (which scared me more than the actual interstate part) and called 911. I always call when I'm alone and have to use an epi pen in case it doesn't help or it gets worse. Than at least I know help is on the way. The only part was I was now in a canyon with not a whole lot of cell service. It took about three minutes longer to get them dispatched to me because they just couldn't find me they also couldn't hear what I was saying because of the poor service. They finally found me. I was one epi in and about to hit myself with a second one. When the fire department got there my O2 was in the 80's range. They took me to the back of the ambulance and gave me a neb treatment. My breathing did a 180 and started improving. I decided not to go to the hospital by ambulance. They followed me to the next exit to make sure I was okay and then I stopped at a gas station to take a break. I was able to make it to my destination in one piece although I was two hours later than expected. That's the reality of this one minute I'm having anaphylaxis and the next minute I'm fine. It's frustrating and scary.
      The thing is, I'm using that fear to fuel me. To fuel my fight. I'm trying to push my boundaries and I'm paying for that every minute. While in Colorado I went for a hike to Hanging Lake which is a mile and a half hike straight up. It kicked my butt. And it took a lot of effort and a lot of stopping and taking a break before I finally made it. And that climb, and the view at the top was worth it. I'm taking one step at a time. Moving home has been daunting. I loved my independence and being far from home. I feel like even though I'm still technically living on my own just near my parents, I'm still under a microscope. It's a huge adjustment coming back. But I know it's what's right right now. I've been going from one doctor to another.
      Since I've been home, even though it's only been two days, I've already had an allergist appointment with my favorite allergist. One that doesn't say it's all in my head and that I'm holding my breath to lower my oxygen levels. He's so helpful! We talked today about what our next step is after my two month prednisone taper is done in three weeks. We talked about two options the first one is cromolyn sodium and the second one is a Xolair shot. He told me to go home and research them both and to come back in a month and we'd discuss it further. He cares about my opinion. He is thinking the cromolyn sodium is the best option for me right now, but it comes with GI side effects. And since I'm already having some GI symptoms he wants approval from a gastroantorolgist before he puts me on it. I haven't had a chance to set up that appointment yet, but hopefully I can get into one relatively quickly.
     During the appointment my POTS got the best of me and my blood pressure tanked when I stood up. The doctor was still in the room at the time when I collapsed. I didn't pass out which is always a good thing. I just got really weak and my legs apparently decided they no longer wanted to support the rest of me. They took my blood pressure while I was still sitting on the floor and it was around 92/68 I think. We know that abuterol has an adverse affect on my blood pressure. For normal people albuterol lowers the blood pressure, it tends to raise mine. The doctor gave me a breathing treatment and we were able to get my bp back up to around 110/74ish. He had me drink two bottles of water before he would let me drive home. He wanted me to go to the ER and get fluids but we decided that it wasn't necessary yet. I went home and ate ramen for the sodium and drank 64 more ounces of water before I let myself take a nap. I was exhausted. That hour doctor appointment wiped me. My fear is fueling this fight. This never ending exhausting fight. "Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord." Psalm 31:24  Keep strong friends!
With Love,
Elizabeth <3

The Hardest Decision

     Yesterday, sitting in the ER after yet another scary near death experience, I made one of the hardest decisions I have yet to make. I decided it was time for me to move back home to Vegas. This picture was taken after a full mental breakdown and before a second full mental breakdown. I have gotten to the point where I have nearly died (no that is not an exaggeration) in the back of to many ambulances to be half a country away from my family. This is something that I've been thinking about for the last couple of weeks. But I was thinking maybe the end of the year or at the soonest in the next few months. But when I was in the ER last night I broke. I texted my mom and said I was ready to come home. She took the first flight out this morning to help me start packing.
     I think I'm holding it together so far. But on the inside my heart is breaking. Nebraska has become my home. It's the first place I have ever felt like I've really belonged. Apart of my heart is staying in Nebraska and the rest of me has to find the emotional strength to keep going to Nevada. My now roommate has honestly become one of my closest friends I've ever had and I've only known her for six months. She knew about my health issues and she still decided to move in with me. I gave her plenty of outs throughout our friendship and she still stuck with me. That means so much more to me then she will ever know. And now I feel like I'm just abandoning her. She tells me she's okay, that my health is what matters but I'm scared I'll lose her friendship to the distance and I know my leaving her so suddenly is way more than she anticipated to deal with this Summer. I'm trying to make our last few days living together exciting and at least a little bit memorable but nothing I can think of seems like enough. I mean how do you thank someone for spending countless hours in the ER with you and checking to make sure you're still breathing when they leave for work? You just can't thank them enough, I can't thank her enough.
      I've also had to put in my two weeks at work tonight. And even though I haven't actually worked a shift in almost two months it still hurts. That was my first job in EMS, they were my work family who looked out for me and who I've shared so many jokes with. They weren't always my favorite humans but I love them and I don't want to leave. There were weeks I saw that station more than my own apartment and now I just have to leave it? It's hard. I teared up just texting my boss about giving my two weeks. I'm going to be a hot mess tomorrow when I go to pick up my stuff and say goodbye.
     Nebraska has changed my life. I feel like my decision to move home is giving up and admitting defeat to my illness. Like I'm finally letting my sickness control my life. And I know that's not a good way of looking at it. I know this move is what's best for me and that when I get control of everything I can always move back here. But things will be different then and what if I don't get to the point I'm able to come back? There's just a lot going through my mind right now and I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying to focus on the new adventures ahead and the possibility that one day I'll feel in control of my health again. But that's hard to do. For now I will keep praying for peace and guidance, I'll try to keep my crying and mental breakdowns to a minimum as I start packing, and I'll try to make as many memories as I can before I leave. Who knows what my future holds, what I do know is that the people I've met here have changed my life and they will always have a place in my heart.

With Love,
Elizabeth <3

The Fire During My Hospital Stay

     Oh fifth floor adult inpatient unit, how I wish I wasn't so familiar with your halls. I was recently released from a five day hospital vacation. I wish I could say that it yielded more answers to what feels like my never ending health problems, but alas, it did not. I don't want to say it was a complete waste of five days and a ton of hospital bills, but right now that's what it feels like. I didn't have my computer with me to update my blog while I was there, but I did have my phone! So here's a recap of me week!

     Intake was about a three hour process. I was supposed to be a scheduled admission but something on the hospital's end got messed up and there wasn't a bed already ready for me. Which was frustrating and I should have just ran for the hills then. Thankfully, I wore my comfiest clothes and had my phone charger handy so sitting in the waiting room wasn't a huge deal, I was just hungry.
      While I was sitting in the waiting area starving myself to death my body had a different idea. I had an allergic reaction. I noticed my chest was super itchy and that I was starting to get nauseous. I followed my protocol; take 50mg of oral benadryl and wait. After about ten minutes of trying not to itch my chest my throat began feeling tight. I took a puff of my albuterol inhaler to see if maybe that would help. No relief. It started to get way worse. The impending doom feeling was setting in which is my sure sign it's time to get help. I staggered up to the front counter clutching my chest. The lady could probably hear my breathing from across the room. I stabbed myself with an epi pen and we quickly got me a wheelchair over to the ER. I was then admitted as an ER patient and six hours from the time I originally showed up that morning I was taken to my room. It was a frustrating start to the next four days.

     Day two was supposed to be my big testing day and then go home on day three. Turns out that wasn't the case. Since being admitted I hadn't been able to go a full 12 hours without a near anaphylaxis episode. And without knowing what was triggering them my doctor wasn't comfortable sending me home. The silver lining of having so many reactions in a controlled environment is that we were able to constantly monitor me throughout the whole thing. The doctor said I have what he would call "atypical anaphylactic reactions". Which means that instead of my blood pressure dropping like a normal anaphylactic reaction mine actually sky rockets. 10 minutes before a reaction my blood pressure would be around 115/70s. During a reaction my blood pressure would shoot up to almost 180/90s. This would happen consistently almost every single time. After doing some research my doctor was able to link this to mast cell activation. He said a lot of patient's with the same thing as me have the same time up blood pressure jumps during a reaction. He said this is probably why it gets mistaken for a panic attack so often. It's highly highly unusual that the blood pressure would go up instead of down. So at least we're slowly learning new things about my condition. Baby steps right?
     Day four was the most difficult day emotionally. I was just done with being in the hospital. They wouldn't let me off of the inpatient floor (for good reason) so I felt like I was trapped. The floor went in a circle and if you walked that circle 9 times it made a mile... I walked four miles that day... I watched several episodes of HGTV and The Food Network shows only because that's all that was on. I was starting to get a meek outlook on being there. Up to this point I was fine with being an inpatient. I knew that by being there I was safe, getting the care that I needed, and we were learning more about how my messed up body works. But day three my brain was just done. My nurse was a little on the crabby side and wasn't much for small talk and conversation, the medication they had started me on was starting to make me feel weak and lethargic and I was starting to get sick of hospital food. It was just all around a bad day mentally. On top of all of that my IV decided to start leaking a strange color fluid so we had to start a new one in my hand. Which is my least favorite place to start an IV. I hate it, and it took 45 minutes and a pediatric nurse to find a vein that was usable enough. The only real excitement I had that day was this fire alarm/ drill. It ended up being a false alarm but we were actually told to be prepared to evacuate the floor. Because a real fire had been reported on our floor in the East tower. The fire department showed up (none of them were cute dangit) and we were given the all clear and I was able to resume my laps around the hallway.

     I was finally released around noon on day five! No really big new news to report, but at least I had a little more information. At least I had been validated by a doctor that this wasn't anxiety or all in my head. As sucky as it was I would do it again to learn more about how to better take care of myself, and how to better treat my reactions. Hopefully, I'm able to stay out of the hospital for a while though. This is me in my car with my IV site bandaged up which means I got the okay to go home! Friends, whatever your sucky situation is this week, hit it head on. I believe in you! 

With Love, 

Elizabeth <3