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Author Archives: Diana

About Diana

Old enough to know better and now willing to share that wisdom.

I followed doctors to my death

I never wrote one single prescription for myself.  I assumed that whatever prescriptions I got were because he knew what he was doing.  I had no idea I was supposed to be supervising him.  It was enough of a job just to live life with pain swirling around my body and mind for years and years.  I just blindly followed along behind.

And that is now going to end my life.  The medical folks never came up with any treatment means for FM.  They created man made chemicals they called solutions so that they could become zillionairs.  But cures are not being sought for this very lucrative disorder.

Josef Mengele has nothing over my doctors.  I can’t even get an appointment with my primary care doctor right away.  It takes two months at least.  I cannot go look for a FM doctor that knows anything more to do for my malady.  Because I need a doctor to make a referral.

I got a referral today I found out.  To the great Dr. G.  Only I found out too that he is the Russian doctor I saw years ago in Dr. Keller’s office.  The single most dysfunctional and cold medical office on the west coast.  Dr. G’s accent is so thick I never understood anything he was saying to me and when I asked for clarification he got very irritated at me as if his accent was my fault.  I wonder if he even has a license to practice medicine in the USA?

And Dr. Smith the appointment and first referral told me Tuesday that he does not treat FM……….after I waited and wasted three weeks waiting for this appointment.  So now there is not enough time to find help before November 1st.  And no one cares.

I will not go through withdrawal and seizures again.  I am taking charge now.  I am tired and I don’t want to play this life game anymore.  All done.  Put a fork in me; ding ding.  All done.  I will not be going to a hospital again where they make things worse and never ever listen to what I say and know about my body.

And yes I am still angry.  I have to move past that because anger can make a person still want to keep going.  And I don’t want that.  This all has to stop.  I do not deserve this humiliation, terror, stress and fear.  I simply have not done that much bad stuff.

Josef Mengele………..

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

How can I help them say goodbye?

The older, country western song,  “How can I help you say goodbye” is appropriate here.   I have four weeks to tidy everything up and leave them as well as I can.  My gad.

The doctor’s office just told me that basically when my pain pill prescription runs out on November 1st next month I am a dead woman.  “Go to the ER” she so blithely recommends.  A young woman in her prime……..just had her first baby.  Very protective of her doctor-boss so I don’t count.  Not at all.

I have no doctor coverage at all as of this moment.  Because everyone is afraid of having pain patients.  Especially with the new ObamaCare rules and laws coming in January.  Weed out the patients that you can’t cure or help.  Clean off the decks Doctors.  Protect yourselves as best you can.  Dump the Medicare patients and the patients with FM…………because they use pain pills.  And we just can’t have that.  We might get into trouble.

So here I am at age 69 and not going to die from natural causes.  I am enraged of course.  God had a chance to take me home to Heaven a month ago when I was in ICU.  Obviously they exerted waaay too much effort in ‘saving my life” so I could die in seizures and cold turkey withdrawals from pain pill and anti depressant pill.

So I have to rewrite the “NO extra measures” letter for the medical folks.  Because obviously I have to be much clearer. Let me go for crying out loud!

And I have to ease the pain of my children and husband.  I hope he gets married again.  These 14 years have been very hard on him, my darling man.  And my poor daughter is gonna be so pissed at me.  I have always looked down on folks that died during the holidays and here I go; ruining the season for everyone close to me.

But there are no other options open to me.  I cannot figure out how I can save back enough pills to let my spirit be free and still have enough pains to see my family from Seattle for the last time without ruining their trip here. Geez. What am I going to do and when?

Dear blog, what a good listener you are.  Silent cyberspace and no one knows.  The great gaping hole that I am shouting into.

 

 

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in To health with it

 

From one day to the next

I am still amazed at how fast my life changed.  From one day to the next.  One day I was 53-54 and on top of my little world.  My kids were grown, married and multiplying like bunnies.  I had a great marriage and the world was my stage.  Free at last, free at last.

To do anything I wanted.  I had been a women’s recovery speaker and workshop facilitator for many years and now I was free to chose any vocation or avocation I wanted to choose.  The world was my shrimp.  (I hate oysters)

Then the phone call came.  She has cut her throat from ear to ear with a steak knife the self-centered little twit.  And because I was the last ‘professional’ to talk to her…..she was nice enough to include me in her suicide note.  That they read at her funeral.  My life as I had known it was over.

Then two months later my mother-in-law fell on me and I had to hold her 190 pounds on my knee as we rode the rest of the way up the escalator   I saved her from falling backwards into the people behind us.  But I destroyed my body at the same time.  Even as my quivering body tried to hold her til we got to the top my mind was telling me, “boy are you fucked!  This is gonna be really bad on your back and body.”

And one year later I was in a fetal position on my bed moaning in pain.  Had no idea what was wrong.  The doctor said fibromyalgia.  Never had heard the word; could not even spell it.  How could that be?  I had always been healthy and strong.  It was explained later that the stress from the suicide then the escalator ride with my mother-in-law had caused my muscles to stay stuck in a bunched up position and they were now filled with toxins and puss and there was no treatment or cure.

Plus I was pleased to find out that in 1998 most doctors believed it was psychological because it was mostly a woman’s disorder.  How special.  I now had a malady that would become a fad diagnosis and a huge money maker for the drug industry.

I didn’t believe the no-cure thing.  I put my head below the bit and attacked.  I did every single ‘cure’ mentioned by friends and Internet.  Nearly killed myself those first few years.  I hit cure-bottom after having all my teeth pulled because a friend sent me an article about a woman who had lots of root canals and had heard the empty root canals were breeding grounds for FM.  So she had all her teeth pulled and she was instantly cured!

I followed right behind her only all I ended up with was insane pain and an empty mouth.

The next phase I attacked was what I now call conditional acceptance.  I accepted I had this so called disease but I did not accept that I could not find a way to live life successfully in spite of it all. For the past 9 years I have been doing that.  Only it has brought me to another and final bottom.  There is no cure.  There is no help or solution and now I will never  be well again in this lifetime.  Because 14 years of fight has destroyed my body and depleted my energies, both physical and emotional.

So the final leg of this journey is here.  What should I call it?  hummm  let me think……….

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in Life-Changing Apps

 

I stayed with them so why are they all gone now?

I stayed with them so why are they all gone now?  My friends simply can’t take the reminder of my unwellness.  They can’t abide nor deal with the powerlessness of loving someone who is always sick and that there is no cure, no solutions, no help.

This would be understandable if I had enjoyed being sick, telling and re-telling all the gory health issues over the years with zest and delight.  But I have never been a happy sick person and mostly private about it all.  I have shared anger and frustrations.  I have asked for prayers.

But they are all gone now.  After almost dying in ICU three months ago, they just could not tolerate anymore bad news from my life.  So now, when I could really really use someone to talk to so I don’t have to burden my husband……..they are all gone.  Busy.  Involved in their own life dramas with no time for me.

Yet I stayed with each of them at different times through so many crisis and long-term challenges.  Carrying one sick friend literally to church and setting her up on a lawn chair so she could lay there and receive prayers.  I hung in there through the diagnosis and death of Bart.  I was there constantly for over a year for his wife and three small children.  I was a listening board for another friend in an abusive relationship.  Crying at times with worry for her physical safety.  Now she is gone too.  Gone back to her abusive marriage.  And just doesn’t have energy or time to be a friend anymore.  Unless it is me listening to her……yuppers.  They are all gone now.

Alone we come into life; alone we leave.

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in To health with it

 

Final Conclusion

I have finally reached the conclusion that I will never feel or be well again in this lifetime.  Odd.  It just loudly asserted itself and I knew.  It is all done.  After 14 years and 5,208 days of 24 hour pain, burning body, nausea and other physical issues…..after 14 years of ‘taking it to the limit one more time’……I realize I am fresh out of one-more-times.  Fresh out of energy to continue attacking what is my life.  The reality and the facts of my life are that I am unwell.  Have been unwell for a long time and will not ever feel/be well again.

Time for a tidy acceptance.  Which is so against my nature.  Some say I have been a very strong woman.  Me thinks that for 69 years I have simply been a stubborn woman.  Because this character trait of mine to fight and fight some more is now beginning to kill me.

The old AA saying;  What allowed me to survive is now beginning to kill me.

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in To health with it

 

Happy 5,208th Anniversary

Thank goodness I never ‘marketed’ or promoted this blog.  Because now it is my private place to talk.  And no one will know or see. This is the only place I can talk about the end.  My family can’t…….my friends have all gone because I am too sick too often.  So its you and me bloggy-dear.  The final race.

My 5,208 days with hourly pain.  I was diagnosed in October, 1998………so now 14 years later I am at the end. Yesterday the final doctor threw me on the medical-waste-heap.  Because I was not warm and excited to start all over again with ‘cures and solutions’ like hypnosis, acupuncture, detox at age 69 and start all over again with pain pills, positive meditations and affirmations, bio-feedback, exercise, yoga and other things.  Plus he thought it would be a great idea (Probably for his pocketbook) for me to get MIR, CAT scans, Xrays and other tests because he was convinced it was not fibromyalgia causing my pain but that I might need more back surgery.

Meanwhile the two doctors have decided to not write a pain pill prescription for me.  So I have until November to survive.  Then pow!  it be done.

I shared my vulnerable heart with this new doctor………..he could not hear.  I followed the other doctor’s prescriptions and ideas.  Not knowing I should of been in charge.  Was supposed to question and fight everything he prescribed for me.  I had no idea.  I just trusted him.  Now he has decided he is not a pain management doctor and away I go.  I think he was able to build up his new practice promising the moon……then just dumped the patients that did not fit his new business plan.

So here I am on my 14th anniversary facing a black hole.  And on top of everything else I have an old-lady-wart that appeared right in the middle of my forehead!  That is a low blow life!  Low blow.

 

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2012 in To health with it

 

The Butter or margarine Battle

I have taken a lot grief over my preferring real creamery butter over margarine ever since margarine was made available to the masses in the late 1950’s. I was raised on butter—-real butter from a butter churn for crying out loud.

In fact when I was 2 or  3 I was put in my high chair at the perfectly set dining room table waiting for

Mug Shot of the Butter Stealer

everyone to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner.  They left me alone for just a second so they tell me but it was time enough to spot the plate of butter on the table about 3 place settings away.   So I just began pulling on the tablecloth to bring the butter to me.  I made it and was into my second bite just as the adults came running in because of all the crashing dishes falling off the table.

Did you know 1831 was the first time they tried to invent a replacement for butter.  Of course it all started because butter spoiled on the war fields so they tried to find a product that did not turn rancid.   That should have been our first clue on how margarine could run and possibly ruin my life.

World War I and World war II had the same needs to replace butter on the fighting fields. By the 1880’s the special interest group in dairy products went on the attack.  They levied a tax against margarine.  They then tried demanding that pink food coloring be added to the margarine to make it look yucky.  The Supreme Court finally overruled those attempts to stop the public from buying margarine instead of butter.

By the start of the 20th century 8 out of 10 Americans could not buy yellow margarine and those that could, got taxed.  There was even bootleg margarine at that time!  What a hoot.   So Margarine simply did not take off until World War II.  Why does it take a war to get what the public wants??

So we were finally able to buy margarine that came in a see-thru bag by the mid-50’s.  This was how they got around the “no food coloring” thing………..they put a blob of yellow food coloring in the center of the bag and you had to break that blob by kneading the bag til it broke open then spread it thru all the

If you need margarine, you gotta knead it.

margarine til it was as yellow as you could get it.  My brother and I used to fight over who got to punch the new margarine bag.   I still kept eating butter whenever I could, and doing without anything if only the tub of chemicals was available.

Then the insanity of low-fat diets came and they madly invented 1000 different types of margarine.  The last one I used in 1993 was a special brand that had no fat; no oils; no salt; no sugar………….in fact I am thinking there may have been no known product in this crap.  I foray into margarine eating ended the day I put some in the microwave to melt for a cooking project and the stuff would NOT melt!  In the microwave?   Helllooo.   If it doesn’t melt there, it ain’t gonna melt in my stomach.

So I went back to real butter and held my head high ever since.   People will still occasionally make remarks about me using the killer called ‘real butter’.  Hinting that I am gonna die with all that butter in me.  I say down-with-fake-food!

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2012 in The 1950's: my life's foundation