Oh Vertigo!

On Saturday, I woke up with vertigo. It eased up after I sat up. I have had worse.

I had been having pain in my left ear and assumed an ear infection. Since it was the weekend, I couldn't call my doctor, so I tried some home remedies. It seemed to be better Monday and then Tuesday it wasn't. The vertigo was back when I woke up. Fortunately, it eased.

Wednesday, I called for an appointment with my wonderful primary care physician. I was told if I could be there in 30 minutes, the doctor could see me. I had just showered and was in the process of dressing when I made the call, so I threw on the rest of my clothes and drove as quickly as I dared to get to the office. I made it with a little time to spare.

The doctor confirmed an ear infection in my left ear. Otis media, I think they call it.

She prescribed an antibiotic and sent me off with a Merry Christmas hug.

The antibiotic is not one I have taken often and not a favorite. It makes me grouchy. It is also not kind to my stomach.

Since I am sick, I did not feel like I should do the cooking/baking I had planned to do even though I don't think I am contagious and have no fever. Instead, I coached my husband through it, and he made a couple batches of fudge for me.

He did alright, too.

I think he even enjoyed it.

We are mostly ready for Christmas. I have one more thing to wrap and then I am done. I wish I had come up with better gifts for my husband, but it is hard to buy for people when they simply go get what they want.

I have tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday to ready myself for Christmas Eve, which is usually when my family visits. I think everything will be just fine, including my ear.

 

Oopsy Daisy

Yesterday, I went with my husband to the orthopedic center in the city. He is having trouble with his knee, with fluid on the kneecap that is as big as my fist.

The first thing they wanted were x-rays of both of his knees. We sat in a waiting area with other folks, the only two people with masks on, of course.

After they called my husband back for his x-rays, I scurried over to the restrooms. Upon my return, my seats that had been furthest away from other people were taken, so I sat in a chair in the hallway that was directly in front of the entrance to the x-ray area, where my husband would see me.

I pulled up Lord of the Rings on my cellphone and began reading. I became engrossed in the book and was at the part where Faramir is telling Frodo about Boromir's death when suddenly I heard a little cry. "Oh."

Then something hit my left knee and the side of my leg. I heard a lot of exclamations all around me. I looked down to find a large woman lay in the floor at my feet, with the aid who had been delivering her from x-ray bending over her. I sat, rubbing my knee, while the woman said, "See, this is what happens, it just locks up on me and I hit the floor."

The aid asked the woman if she was ok. The woman said, "Thank goodness I didn't land on my broken arm," and then went on to explain she'd broken her left shoulder once before. She was on her right side in the floor.

I saw the nurse who had been doing the intake for x-rays pick up a phone. "Urgent Code" something she said, then quickly hurried over. She touched me on the shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"She hit my leg when she fell, I want to stand up in a minute and see how it feels," I said. The woman was still at my feet and now there were people in scrubs everywhere, appearing seemingly from every corner of the building, responding, I supposed, to the Urgent Code call.

About this time my husband came out of x-ray. I saw him and caught his eye. He gaped at the sight before him, which must have looked crazy - me sitting there in a chair, a woman at my feet, at least a dozen other people around us. I waved him on to wherever he needed to go. The look on his face said, "What the hell?" better than any words could have done.

Someone appeared with a wheelchair, and somebody else had a sheet. The staff rolled the woman over until the sheet was under her butt, and then they hoisted her up and into the chair.

Once she was up and being hauled off to wherever they were taking her, I stood and tested out my leg. The x-ray nurse asked me if I was ok. I said I thought I was, but I wanted to make a report of the incident. She came back with a pencil and paper and asked me to write down my name and birthday. I did, along with a sentence about what happened. I didn't think that was much of a report.

"If it's bothering you after your husband has his appointment, we will see you," she said. "Just let us know."

I went to the waiting area where my husband sat and told him what happened. I wasn't in real pain, but I could tell something had hit me. I was limping a little.

That was the end of my excitement. I went back with my husband to see the doctor, where we were told that the fluid on his kneecap could only be left alone to heal itself and that could take up to 9 months. After that, my husband probably needs a knee replacement.

The doctor was getting ready to leave when I asked if we could see his x-rays. Yep, he will need a knee replacement eventually. I could see where it was bone on bone. He says it doesn't hurt. I don't see how it couldn't.

As we left, I stopped at the check-in area and asked again about making an incident report about the woman falling on me, since I didn't really feel like writing my name on a scratch pad was going to cut it if I woke up and found my knee was swelling or something. I was assured it would be entered into my chart.

However, there is nothing in my chart except what I put in there this morning, a little paragraph about what happened in the area where I can make notes in the chart.

Fortunately, I see to be ok. But wasn't that a weird thing?

And shouldn't there have been a better way to report an incident at the facility?

Happiness - Day 21

Today I went back to the dentist, having been there on Monday, so she could do her thing to create a crown for a front tooth.

I initially balked at this, because I didn't think the problem needed that kind of solution. I was having what I considered "high sensitivity" in a front tooth. I just wanted a little cement to make it go away. So, Monday she did what she called a "fluoride varnish," which wasn't cement, and it did absolutely nothing for the sensitivity issue I was having. 

I called late Tuesday and reported that the fluoride treatment had not helped. This morning the office called me back and said dental assistant said they had a cancelation, and I should come in this afternoon.

When I arrived, I made the dental assistant and the dentist show me all of the X-rays and explain to me like I was 5 why I needed a crown. She said all of the enamel was gone from the back of the tooth and it needed a crown to stop the sensitivity. The tooth had two fillings, one on each side, which I did not realize. I thought it just had one filling. She said the tooth could not handle more filling.

That knowledge made a big difference, so I stopped balking and let her go on and do her dentist work.

It took a very long time and at one point there was smoke coming out of my mouth, but the hard part is done and now there's nothing left but the waiting for the ceramic crown. I have a temporary crown in the meantime, and you can't even tell I had anything done. I can tell, but just to look at me you can't tell a thing.

I am happy that I have a dentist I trust and who is patient and good with me.

______________________

Happy August Happiness Challenge!

 

Each day in August you are to post about something that makes *you* happy. Pretty simple. And, it doesn't even have to be every day if you don't want it to be. It's a great way to remind ourselves that there are positive things going on in our lives, our communities, and the world.

Closed Eye Hallucinations

Image by Copilot/Bing

This weekend I learned that other people do not continue to see images behind their eyelids when they close their eyes.

I always have. Generally, it's an outline of whatever I was looking at before I shut my eyes, with the white or lighter color showing up and giving me sort of a negative of the object.

No eye doctor or regular doctor, or anyone else for that matter, has ever mentioned this to me. And before this weekend, I'd never mentioned it to anyone else, either. Like my tinnitus in my ears, I thought it was something everyone experienced because I've experienced for as long as I can remember. (Then I began reading about tinnitus and realized it wasn't normal.)

Saturday night I shut my eyes to a particularly vivid negative image of the dresser because my husband had had the overhead light on instead of the bedside lamps, and I asked him how it looked to him.

"When I shut my eyes, all I see is dark," he said.

"All the time?" I asked. "You don't see outlines or white streaks?"

"No."

I rolled over and asked Alexa what it was called if you saw things behind your eyelids when your eyes were closed.

She came back with "closed eye hallucinations."

Also called "CEVs," this is apparently not something everyone experiences. It is not a dream, either. Unlike dreams, CEVs occur when individuals are fully awake and conscious. These hallucinations, therefore, can range from simple geometric shapes to complex, lifelike scenarios. (Fortunately, I don't have the lifelike scenarios, although I do daydream quite a lot. But not with my eyes shut.)

Common triggers include using psychedelic drugs (which I do not use, although I am on a lot of medication for blood pressure and chronic pain) or sleep deprivation and fatigue. I don't know what the trigger for me would be, since it happens all the time. 

I suppose it could be something else. I found these possibilities:

• Image Burn-In (Afterimage): Not to be confused with CEVs, image burn-in occurs due to bright light and fades away as the retina heals. (Maybe I looked at the sun when I was a kid and my retina never healed? But wouldn't an eye doctor have noticed?)
• Entoptic Phenomena: CEVs exclude phenomena like floaters, wiper ridges, and vitreous movement, highlighting the distinction between controlled hallucinations and involuntary visual experiences. (I have floaters. What I see when I close my eyes is not a floater. It's an image.)
• Blue-Sky Sprites: CEVs are unrelated to bluefield entoptia, which involves leukocytes migrating through retinal blood vessels. (Perhaps this is a reference to that white line I see in the sky when I look up with my eyes open?)
• Physical Retinal Stimulation: CEVs are independent of visual noise caused by physical retinal stimulation, such as pressure phosphenes, which result from mechanical stimuli. (I think that refers to the weird things you see if you push on your eyeballs.)

I am not sure what this is, honestly, except that apparently not everyone has it and I'm 60 years old and just figuring that out. I place it up there with my photographic memory, which was something else I thought everyone had only to learn they didn't, and auditory hallucinations I sometimes have. (I hear people calling to me, like when I'm in the car and there is no way anyone is actually calling to me. It's weird. It doesn't happen often. Usually, I am highly stressed when it does happen.)

I have something screwy in my brain, I guess. Maybe I should leave my brain to science. As busy as it is up there, there must be something interesting going on.

At any rate, next time I see my eye doctor, I will mention it to him and see what he says, now that I know it's not normal.

My Voice Is Back

At some point around the first of this week, the last of the rasp that I'd been living with as an excuse for a larynx for well over a month went away.

Poof. Like magic.

Except it was a long time going, and my voice became a little stronger every day as the cold or virus or whatever it was finally began to clear my system.

The first thing I did when my voice was back was pick up my guitar and sing a song. Songs are good.

***

The issue at the bank over my name magically went away after my husband dropped off copies of our Real ID and complained to someone there. We signed the papers we needed to sign and took care of business and everything's lovely. But still. WTH was that all about?

***

Like most of the nation's population who live in a house, our house rose in value. There's been a housing shortage for a good while now, since about 2018, I suppose. The county did it's every four-year reassessment and the average increase in real estate value was about 40%. Some properties went way up, like over 100%. They were probably undervalued to begin with.

To see the whining on the Facebook, and then to hear the whining at the Board of Supervisors meeting on Tuesday, you would think that these people had all been lined up against a wall to be shot. In the first place, the county supervisors have net set the tax rate for the upcoming fiscal year. Until they do that, and I guarantee it will not be the same rate as it now, there is no way to know what anyone will be paying in taxes. Do I expect mine to be more? Yes. Am I complaining about it? No. It makes my bottom line look better.

So many people seem to think they should not pay taxes at all. They think they are some gift to humanity and the ground upon which they trod is sacred and blessed, or some such BS. I think it is a privilege to be alive, and paying taxes is what I do for that honor. Do I like everything my taxes support? No. Do I agree with everything the government does? No. But these people are mean. 

They demean the supervisors when they speak to them. They are ill-mannered, noisy, confrontational, and bullish. I never saw much of this kind of demeanor at meetings until after 2016. And then it grew progressively worse and after the George Floyd riots, it really hit its stride. Some of the people talk to the supervisors like they are not even human. 

I wouldn't talk to a dog the way some of these people talk to the supervisors. What is wrong with them? Who taught these people manners? And these aren't all folks I grew up with - no. The vast majority moved in here in the 1990s and think that gives them some right to overstep societal boundaries. My family was here during the American Revolution. They haven't a thing on me. But you don't see me acting like some know-it-all buffoon at a Board meeting.

The Games They Play

I had words with my pharmacist today. I had called in my prescriptions on Sunday, all of them due for refill within 7 days.

I noted on the pharmacy dashboard that one of them was not listed as being filled. It is a Schedule II drug (or maybe Schedule IV, I don't know and don't really care).

I've had trouble with this drug in the past. Sometimes I call it in and can pick it up 3-4 days before it's due to run out, other times the drugstore holds it until the day I'm supposed to run out. I wanted to know what the "rule" was. Or what the problem was.

A male-sounding person answered the phone.

I gave him my name and date of birth. "I'm calling about [particular drug]. I asked for a refill and it's not on my dashboard as being refilled."

He told me the drug could only be filled the day before it runs out by federal law. 

"This is most inconvenient," I told him, "I'd like to pick up all of my prescriptions at once. And must I call this prescription back in? You used to hold it until it was time to pick it up."

"You'll have to call it in the day before it's due. I'm not violating federal law," he boomed into the phone. 

"I'm not asking you to," I replied. "You can hold all of my other drugs there until I can pick them all up at once."

And then I hung up on him because I wasn't going to argue. In the first place, I really don't think this is the law, as I've picked up this drug several days before; I think it varies by pharmacist. In the second place, I still have a bit of laryngitis and he obviously wasn't listening to my question, which simply was this: when am I supposed to call my drugs in so I can get them all picked up at the same time?

Funny thing was, as soon as I hung up the phone, within a minute I had a call from the store telling me I had prescriptions that could be refilled. The phone bot just doesn't say which ones. Or if they are my husband's drugs.

I didn't press one to have whatever it was refilled. I hung up the phone and dearly wished I had the old style where you could slam down the receiver with great satisfaction. Clicking "off" just doesn't do it.

Kroger Pharmacy has the stupidest phone system I have ever had to deal with, and I understand pharmacists around here, anyway, are understaffed and probably underpaid. But that's no reason to get huffy because I asked a question. I pay them plenty for my medication and I've been getting my drugs there for 20 years. 

Why does everyone have to be a jerk anymore?

Oh, Pooh!

In December, I had my annual check-in with my gastroenterologist. A year ago, she had asked me about a colonoscopy, and since I was only 59 and had another year to go, I said we'd talk about it at this particular meeting.

She didn't even give me the option. She straight out said she thought I was a good candidate for Cologuard and we'd try that. I was surprised because I don't think I am a good candidate for it, based on what I've read. I have IBS and digestive issues galore.

But she said since I have developed a heart murmur, she thought this would be better and less stressful. Who was I to argue? 

Friends say that getting a colonoscopy checkup around here is difficult, taking up to a year to schedule. (Things are backed up. Ha.) I have never liked colonoscopies (I have had two.). It's an invasive "checkup." Too much could go wrong, between an anesthetic and the possibility of a bowel perforation. I prefer my wellness care to be much less invasive.

The Cologuard arrived via UPS last week. I had that upper respiratory infection going on, and the doctor put me on an antibiotic, so I wavered about doing the Cologuard test, but went ahead and took care of business. I didn't want to wait in case the antibiotic upsets my stomach. They do that sometimes.

Cologuard is basically a stool sample that is reviewed for cancer sheds and/or blood. The test claims to be 87% correct. Are those good odds? They would be in a life-or-death situation, but a positive result on this means loads of worry and a colonoscopy anyway. So, I shall have to hope for the negative in this situation.

I understand that in the UK this is the way they do colon checks all the time. They do the stool test first and go for the more expensive and better-paying (for the doctor and facility) invasive test only if warranted. Of course, here in the land of the dollar bill, the doctors are going to make something expensive routine (every 10 years, 5 if they find polyps).

Cologuard advertises heavily here, so I assume there is good money it in now. There is another test available called FIT, which I had never heard of until I searched to see if there were other tests. But if this is a brand, I can't find a website for it. Maybe it's not a brand but a description of the test. I'm not sure.

At any rate, the arrival of the test lead to a plethora of bad jokes and lots of discussion about how the mailroom at the science office smells. I surely would not want to be the UPS driver of the truck that carries these tests into the facility every day. You just know that not everybody screws the lids tightly on the test kits. Phewee.

Meanwhile, my upper respiratory issues are better, though I still sound a bit raspy, and I tire easily. I am trying to make today be like a normal day and not a sick day. I have had enough of those, so I am pretending I am not sick and trying to go about my routine as normal. I'm on the mend though I can see this may be a few more days before I can pronounce myself well.

When I get the results, I'll write about how that goes. It may be a few weeks. I am also anxious about the expense. No one has mentioned how much this costs.

*I am not getting paid to write about this. I am just talking about something I experienced recently.*

Where'd This Come From?

I have not been out of my house since January 10, yet somehow, I have ended up with a sore throat. It appears to be some kind of mild virus. I tested negative for Covid, but I don't know if the tests pick up the new versions of Covid.

My friends report other folks are having sore throats and I know strep is going around, but this does not appear to be strep. It's just a sore throat with a little sinus activity and some fatigue. I sound terrible, too, as I have a bit of laryngitis, but I generally get that with a cold.

I suspect my husband brought this home to me even though he hasn't been ill. Otherwise it hopped on me from the groceries he picked up.

The reasons I have been home have more to do with the weather than anything. We had ice, then snow, and I didn't go out because my car is not all-wheel drive. It's front wheel drive and our driveway turns icy in bad weather. I can get out, but getting back home is not always a foregone conclusion. The weather turned extremely cold, so the ice on the driveway didn't go away for a long time.

During this time, I finished up most of the tax records - I still have a little to do, but I haven't been in a hurry to finish them because I still need things from the banks and my husband's retirement information. Then I developed this sore throat and I've been trying to take care of that. This is the first bout of illness I've had in quite some time - since the beginning of the pandemic, really. I had other health concerns (another ulcer, for one thing), but my sinus and sore throat issues mostly vanished. I'm not surprised something finally caught up with me, but it would have been nice to have kept up my healthy streak.

I do not feel so bad that I have gone back to bed, but I have had trouble applying myself to things. But then, I think I have that problem regardless of the state of my health. Chronic procrastination seems to be one of my issues.

I don't think they have drugs for that.

 

A Really Rotten Day

Yesterday, which was Tuesday, I saw my chiropractor to see if she could help me with my painful jaw. (See Monday's post here.)

I did feel better after seeing her. She put my mid-back back in place, and worked on my lower back where my hips and pelvis were out. I wouldn't let her touch my face because she can be a bit rough and I wasn't up to the pain. However, her ministrations helped, and I was hopeful.

This morning, I was in a lot of pain when I woke up. It wasn't radiating down my back like the day before, but it was instead mostly all focused on my face.

When I swallowed, I noticed pain. If I chewed, at all, there was pain. I immediately put heat on my neck and shoulders as the chiropractor had instructed.

The pain continued.

I showered. Sometimes, a hot shower helps, but not this time. I was still in pain. I finally called my husband. "You're going to have to take me to the ER or somewhere, I can't tolerate this," I told him. I was in tears, the pain was so strong. This was about 9:15 a.m.

He came home and I suggested he call the dentist office. I'd tried to get her to see me Monday but she'd suggested I go to the ER and I didn't want to do that. For unknown yet very frustrating reasons, I always get better healthcare when my husband steps in. So, he called, and this time the dentist came on the phone to talk to him, and then I talked to her. She said she would call around and see if an oral surgeon could see me, so someone would call me back.

Apparently, the oral surgeons weren't available (there aren't that many in the area anyway), so the dental office called back and said the dentist would see me at 11 a.m.

My husband insisted on taking me. "I have to take care of my sweetie pie," he said. He is so sweet.

I knew, though, that he had many other things he'd wanted to do today as he'd told me a long list of chores the night before. I felt bad about taking up his time.

My dentist is a very nice and kind woman, and I have nothing but praise and respect for her. She took an X-ray which showed that my jaw wasn't dislocated, which was a relief to me because I was afraid that was what had happened. That means, though, that my pain is a soft-tissue issue of some sort.

She could see that I had facial swelling, and that worried her. She was afraid that it would swell down into my throat or even up into my brain. She insisted I go to the emergency room.

We left her office at 11:30, and after a quick stop in Food Lion to grab my husband a sandwich and me a six pack of Boost (which is about all I've had to eat for several days, TMJ is a great weight loss program), by noon we were at a satellite ER, Lewis Gale Bonsack. (If I'm going to report this, I may as well report where I went.) We had heard good things about this place, so I was expecting a good experience.

I guess those folks went somewhere else.

The parking lot looked relatively empty. I thought that was a good sign.

We clocked in at the self-check-in kiosk (a new experience for me) and waited in the outer waiting area for about 15 minutes. There was 1 person ahead of me and another came in afterwards. Of course, it was lunch time and that is never a good time to attempt something like this, but it was what it was.

The nurse called my name, and we went back and she took initial information about what was wrong. I told her exactly what my dentist had said and her concerns, and also noted that X-rays indicated no rotten teeth causing the swelling. Even when it hurts, I try to brush my teeth, though I may not do such a great job at it when the pain is this bad. In spite of many cavities from those teenage years of braces, my teeth (knock wood) are in fairly good shape.

After that, the nurse took us to two chairs in a hallway. There were rooms everywhere, but I guess they had people in them? Or maybe the facility just didn't want to pay the light bill? I don't know, but we sat in the hallway for well over an hour before a doctor came by.

While we waited on him, a young woman came in without a mask (everyone else was masked), and said she had a sore throat. She was placed in the hallway, too, about 20 feet away from us. This made me very nervous.

Finally, the doctor, an aging gentleman who did not look like a happy camper, glanced at me, asked me to remove my mask there in the hallway, and then said he didn't see any swelling. He looked down my throat and said everything looked fine to him. He acted like he didn't believe I was in pain. (I suspect he thought I was after pain pills, although I never asked for them, nor did I want any.) He suggested a CT scan. I said I could not do the one with the dye. I didn't realize there are two kinds of dye, the kind you drink and the kind you insert through a vein, but apparently however you go, you have to have the dye.

I haven't had a CT scan in 10 years, but I remember being sick from the scan. But I had to drink something then, and he said there was nothing to drink for a CT of the face. He didn't mention any other kind of dye.

So, when over an hour later the nurse came up to insert an IV so she could start inserting the dye in me, I stopped her. We were sitting in a hallway, for heaven's sake, and a not very sanitary one at that, what with sore throat girl sitting over there, and I have terrible veins. The last time I had a CT scan, it took someone 11 tries to get a vein. My primary care physician tries not to take blood from me because I am what the medical professionals call "a hard stick." She considers it a win if the nurses actually manage to get blood out of me.

So, I declined the CT scan. The nurse went and got the doctor, who said he was just looking to see if there was something inside causing a problem. I said I'd come back if things worsened.

This was probably a mistake. If so, that is on me, but by this time we'd been there for 3 hours. I was tired, hungry, in pain, and not up to sitting there another 3 hours to get a CT scan. So, we paid the insurance co-pay and left with nothing to show for the day but the dentist's X-ray.

However, I am happy to note that as the day wore on, after I'd showered and taken a muscle relaxer, the pain in my jaw had eased. It wasn't gone, but it was better by the time I saw the dentist. (Maybe the relief at seeing the dentist helped, who knows.) I still could not chew well or open my mouth very wide, but I felt better than I did. Since I had improved, I felt like it was ok to turn down the CT scan. (Besides, my husband was getting madder by the minute at how long things were taking when we weren't seeing a lot of people coming in and out, and he didn't like being in a hallway.)

The facility is modern, but I don't know why we were in a hallway and not in a room. If something that was built in 2021 is so overloaded that people have to sit in the hallway, somebody did poor planning.

So now I am home writing this, with ice on my jaw and heat on my shoulders. If there is swelling in my face, then it needs ice. I will ice it for 15 minutes every hour tonight and see what the morning brings. Soft tissue injuries take time to heal, so hopefully by the weekend I will see noticeable improvement.

If not, I can always go back to the ER and do it all over again.

By the way, we sat there so long that I was able to start a little song, to the tune of that old 70s song called Smokin' in the Boys Room.

Sittin' in the ER
Thinkin' it's a drag
Waitin' on a doc
Well it just ain't my bag.

Will they call out my name?
Will it be soon?
Or will I be sitting here
Until next June?

(Chorus)

Sittin' in the ER, yes I am
Sittin in the ER.
Doctor turn that TV
Off of Fox News*
'Cause everyone news that the ER is the place for the blues.

One more time!

*They did not have a TV in the hallway. They had one in the outer waiting room but it was on the Lifetime channel.

Don't Speak

When someone looks at me, they see an overweight person who otherwise looks healthy.

However, I have a lot of things wrong with me. I don't talk about them much, because, well, who cares? Everybody has things wrong with them. But I could do a Thursday 13 list of my health issues and still not be done.

Today, though, I'm going to talk about TMJ. Or TMD, whichever you want to call it. I have had this problem for 30 years.

It is only getting worse.

TMJ stands for temporomandibular joint, which is the joint that connects your jawbone to your skull. TMJ disorders are a type of condition that can cause pain, stiffness, clicking, locking, or reduced movement of the jaw. 

There are many possible causes and risk factors for TMJ disorders, such as genetics, arthritis, jaw injury, teeth grinding, or certain connective tissue diseases. TMJ disorders can be diagnosed by physical examination, dental X-rays, CT scan, MRI, or arthroscopy. 

Treatment options may include medication, oral splints, physical therapy, counseling, injections, or surgery. 

TMJ disorders are usually not serious, but they can affect your quality of life and cause discomfort.

In my case, it comes and goes. I have had it off and on since my braces were removed when I was a teenager. But I would also go for years and not have a problem, only to have something 

trigger it. In the 2000s, for example, I had a lot of tension in my life, and it became a painful problem. My symptoms include clicking, my jaw locking shut (sometimes for up to two days), and lots of pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

After a while, it eased, and then came the infamous gallbladder surgery of 2013. During the operation, the anesthesiologist knocked my jaw out.  I distinctly remember that because the nurses were trying to get me to eat a popsicle and I couldn't get it in my mouth. Finally, I stood up to make my way to the bathroom and my jaw popped back into place.

It's a sweet relief when the thing goes back where it is supposed to be. There is residual soreness, but nothing like what you feel when it is out.

Since that night of my surgery, my TMJ has been an issue. Almost every morning, I get up and pop my jaw back into place. I have a mouth guard that the dentist made to help, and it did help for a while, but it seems to not be helping so much now.

Saturday, I bit down on a rice cake (a rice cake!) and had sharp pain shoot through my jaw, so strong it almost knocked me to the floor. It was like a million bees stung me. I put my hand to my jaw area and I could feel my pulse racing on the left side, the blood rushing around in there. My bite was suddenly off, with everything pulled to the right.

The pain was intense.

I alternated ice and heat, took muscle relaxers, and went to bed. Yesterday it wasn't hurting so much, and I tried to have an easy, relaxing today. This morning I felt almost normal, so I went to the grocery store and ran a few errands. I came home and ate a soft lunch of soup. Then I bit down on a baked potato chip, and the pain shot through my jaw again. Not as severe as on Saturday, but bad enough.

Now, it's an ache. Have you ever chewed gum so long that your jaws hurt? It's kind of like that in my jaw, but the pain also wraps around my entire head, and goes down my neck and into my back.

I have known for years that if my back is out, my jaw can get out, too. I just saw the chiropractor on Thursday, so I suspect the adjustment was a little off, and this is the result. So back to the chiropractor I go in the morning. I wanted to see my dentist after the incident at lunch, but she said for me to go to urgent care. Like they were going to do something. Urgent care around here is not something I care to use.

The chiropractor asked me questions to make sure I wasn't having a stroke, because I sounded a little slurred, she said when she called me on the phone. Sure I sound slurred, I told her. I can barely open my mouth without pain and I'm taking muscle relaxers. I'm coherent, I said. Joe Biden is the current president, and we had an orange dumb ass for the last one.

She laughed and said I sounded normal, but if anything changed, I should go to the emergency room.

I'm sitting here with heat on my shoulders and back, trying to figure out what the hell to do about this. If you read up on TMJ, you'll find that no one really knows how to resolve the matter. A mouth splint, which I have, is about the only cure. Surgery seldom works, and I've already said no doctor is cutting on me again. I've had enough of their invasive care.

One thing I want to remind people is that it never hurts to be nice. You never know what kind of invisible crap, like TMJ, someone might be going through.

Happiness Challenge - Day 16

Today I saw the chiropractor. I had a bit of a reaction to the adjustment (or maybe to my blood pressure medicine) - when I sat up, I had spots dancing before my eyes.

My chiropractor gave me cold water and made me sit there for a very long time. After I dressed, she kept me in the waiting room talking until she felt like I was good to go.

It's nice to be cared for by someone who, well, cares. She didn't have to go out of her way to make sure I was fine before I drove home, but she did.

In a world where money rules, today I am happy that I have managed to find some healthcare providers who actually care about me as a person.

Thursday Thirteen #820

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person seeks to make another person doubt their own perceptions, memories, or sanity. It's a tactic used to gain power and control over someone by making them question their reality, thereby weakening their confidence and ability to trust their own judgment. The term "gaslighting" originates from a play called "Gas Light," in which a husband manipulates his wife by dimming the gas lights in their home and then denying that they had changed, making her doubt her perception.

Here are 13 ways to identify when someone might be gaslighting you:

1. Denying: The gaslighter flatly denies events or situations that you clearly remember happening, making you question your memory.

2. Withholding Information: They purposefully withhold information or keep secrets, causing you to doubt your understanding of what's going on.

3. Contradictions: They contradict themselves frequently, making it difficult for you to grasp the truth and leaving you feeling confused.

4. Trivializing Feelings: The gaslighter dismisses your emotions or reactions as overreactions, making you question your own feelings and emotional responses.

5. Projection: They accuse you of things they are doing themselves, deflecting attention away from their actions by putting the focus on you.

6. Shifting Blame: Gaslighters shift blame onto you, even for their own mistakes or inappropriate behavior, leading you to feel responsible for things that aren't your fault.

7. Minimizing: They downplay their behavior or the impact it has on you, making you doubt the significance of your concerns.

8. Creating Confusion: Gaslighters intentionally confuse you by changing their story or manipulating facts, leaving you unsure of what's true.

9. Isolation: They isolate you from friends, family, or support networks, making you more dependent on them and less likely to get validation from others.

10. Doubting Your Memory: They repeatedly claim that your memory is unreliable, causing you to question your recollection of events.

11. Using Others: Gaslighters might enlist others to support their version of events, making you feel like everyone agrees with them and you're in the wrong.

12. Setting Unrealistic Expectations: They set unrealistic standards for you and then blame you for not meeting them, eroding your self-esteem and self-worth.

13. Changing Reality: Gaslighters may rearrange objects, hide things, or subtly change your environment to make you doubt your sanity or perception.

If you suspect someone is gaslighting you, it's important to trust your instincts and seek support from trusted friends, family, or a mental health professional. Gaslighting can have serious effects on your mental and emotional well-being, and recognizing it is the first step towards protecting yourself from its harmful effects.

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Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 820th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

A Catch-Up Post

Healthcare

Thursday, I saw my cardiologist for a follow-up on my echocardiogram. I am fine, except for "old age" issues. I have a right ventricular valve that's doing a little splashing about, which has caused the new heart murmur sound that had my primary care doctor concerned.

But the cardiologist was like a different person. He was nice when I saw him the first time. But this time, he was, frankly, a jerk. As soon as I asked one question about statins - how did they mix with medications I am already on - he immediately said I wasn't interested in taking them so there was no point in discussing it. I told him my PCP had suggested Zetia and he waved that away as if it were nothing. Then he went on to say that if I weren't going to take whatever drug he offered me, there was no point in my returning to see him. I could try diet and exercise and good luck to me. He wouldn't discuss "diet" either, as in, what I should or shouldn't eat. He didn't even offer a handout with diet information on it. 

He was rather combative, actually, and I was appalled.

This is why I dislike dealing with the Carilion Health Care system in Roanoke. I do not get good care there. This surprised me because my husband was with me and usually, I am treated better when he is there, but not this time. Of course, he didn't speak up, either.

There are many medications I cannot tolerate. I haven't tried statins for about 20 years, and I couldn't take them then. I have no idea what may or may not have changed in 20 years, but he certainly wasn't going to discuss it.

So I left without any drugs for my high cholesterol (I don't think it's *that* high myself, although I know the doctors do). I mean, if this were 1983, my cholesterol would be considered low. But it 2023, and so it is considered high.

Even red rice yeast makes me feel bad. I take a little of that, along with flax seed oil, to try to help with my cholesterol but I have to be careful with it. It makes me have brain fog and I like to think properly.

My father and brother both also have cholesterol issues, so I am sure this is hereditary. I am not going to worry about it too much. Maybe I should, but I honestly think the numbers are more about selling drugs than making people healthy.

Sunday

Sunday began ok, with us sleeping in for a change. Then my husband spilled his sugar with a little coffee in it (he drinks it like it's a syrup), and that was a sticky mess. Then he went to check on his mother and discovered the thermostat on her air conditioning unit wasn't working, so he had to call the repair people.

While he was over there with her, I saw a huge coyote come from the direction where the cows are, so I called him and asked him to go check the cattle as soon as he could.

He discovered a dead calf, which he then had to bury.

Aside from the coffee/sugar cleanup, this was stuff that affected him more than it affected me, but I still found it a stressful day. Losing a calf is always hard, and this was another newborn. Not only does that make me sad, but it's also a financial hit. Selling the calves after they've been weaned is how we make money raising cattle. No calf, no sale.

Plus, we have to watch the mom cow now to make sure she doesn't go into mastitis or develop an infection. 

When the cattle roam over a large acreage, we can't keep an eye on them constantly, and with predators like coyotes and vultures roaming around, it's a certainty we're going to lose calves now and then.

And besides, what affects him also affects me. How could it not after almost 40 years of marriage?

*Bing AI produced the images.*

Nonexistent

Having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. It's the fear of failure, but no urge to be productive. It's wanting friends but hating to socialize. It's wanting to be alone, but not wanting to be lonely.  

It's feeling everything at once, then feeling paralyzingly numb.

                                        -- Found on Facebook under "Nonexistent"

I ran across this paragraph on Facebook the other day, and I saved it because it resonated with me.

Actually, it rang about 10,000 bells, and I had to stop and admit to myself that this is it. Even though I tell myself all the time that I'm not anxious and I am not depressed, I am.

It's painful to admit but I have always felt this way. Maybe when I was born I did not, but I do not ever remember a time when I was not depressed. Not just sad, but depressed. Not just scared, but hopeless, for the most part.

And always anxious. Always insecure. Always sure that I am the alien who landed on the wrong planet, but I don't know where home is, or how to get back there.

What I feel daily feels like walking through molasses every single minute of every hour of the day. One foot up, plop it back down into the molasses. A big deep hole filled with molasses, one that I can never swim out of, because I can't see a top, or feel a bottom, or see a shoreline.

There is a story that comes to me occasionally about a donkey that fell into a deep hole. The farmer couldn't figure out how to pull the donkey out, so he decided just to bury the donkey alive. The donkey, seeing the dirt fall, climbed atop each pile of dirt as it fell until it hopped out of the hole.

If only it were that easy. If only the hole full of molasses had an end, a beginning, a middle, instead of just being always there.

If only somebody could tell me where to find the dirt that would take away the molasses and leave me on solid ground. But there are no answers. I've had 100s of hours of therapy and read 100s of books, and there are no answers. Not for me, anyway.

People don't see it, I guess. Some do if they're paying close attention. But I've always felt like the person who didn't belong, the unwanted one, the unwelcomed one, the needy, obsolete, imperfect one. The one who couldn't do it right no matter how hard the trying. Always wrong, never correct, never good enough, never perfect enough.

I suspect I know where that comes from. I imagine you know where it comes from, too, because I don't think we're born feeling imperfect, unless maybe you weren't wanted to begin with, and those feelings seeped on into your DNA as you were a fetus being formed in the womb. 

Some days I consider it a win if I get up, dress, do the laundry, the dishes, and make the bed. This, I know, is more than many people with depression can manage. I function, so what am I complaining about? I have always functioned. I have never let this emotional angst take me completely, but it's been a long and tiring fight. A constant struggle to stay above the molasses.

There are days when I feel l'appel du vide - the call of the void - so strongly that it's a wonder I don't get in the car and drive it off a bridge somewhere. But I do not do that. 

Before I had my gallbladder removed and chronic pain in my abdomen took my life away from me, I fought it better. I could fill my days easier, because I didn't also have to account for the pain. I liked deadlines and I needed - and still need - external pushes, like expectations from someone else - to get things accomplished.

The pain brought a different kind of time suck as I maneuvered through the health care system, trusted that eventually physical therapy would fix me (after 10 years I know that's not happening), and hoped up until I was about 55 that my 50s would be better than the rest of my life. That was what I'd been counting on - a good decade. That was all I wanted, was one good decade out of a lifetime.

But my 50s sucked. And now I'm 60, and I don't see how to change things, to make things different, to bring myself out of the hole and send the molasses down the sink drain so that my 60s don't suck. Because right now, they don't look any different and the horizon hasn't changed.

After 60 years of fighting it, I have to wonder if it's simply time to accept that this is how I am, this is my personality trait, this is my failure. I'm simply not capable of anything more. I always thought I was made of sterner stuff, stronger stuff, but I guess not. 

Or maybe I am, in fact, incredibly strong, and the fact that I've survived these 60 years is really a testament to strength, to resiliency, to some inner something that keeps a person still standing up even as the molasses goes over her head.

Heart, Heart

Yesterday I met with the cardiologist. The appointment went about like I expected. He seemed nice enough. He said he could hear a heart murmur in the upper right ventricle, though how he could tell where it was exactly was a mystery to me.

My brother told me last night he thought I'd always had a heart murmur, but no. I don't know where he got that idea. I'm certain if that had been the case, my doctor of over 15 years would not have declared that I have a new murmur she hadn't heard before.

The doctor ordered an echocardiogram, which I expected. The appointment is six weeks away. 

I forgot, and so did my husband, apparently, that I had a stress test about 20 years ago, when I was having a lot of chest pain that turned out to be reflux. I didn't remember until we got home, and it isn't on my personal chart at this hospital conglomerate, so I'm guessing it was before everything was put on computer. The records must be hiding in some deep dark place, never to be seen again. I wonder if I should write the doctor and tell him I remembered this. (Actually, I just checked my blog, and it was February 2009, I wrote about here.) Maybe I can just tell the folks who do the echocardiogram, now that I have an approximate date.

The doctor told me at some point I'd have to make decisions about taking a statin (I do not do well on them), blood thinners, etc., etc., and I should expect to have a heart attack. This is basically what my GP has told me for years.

Weight loss may help, but I have not been able to do that. The only time I've lost weight has been when I've had active ulcers and couldn't eat. I eat Cheerios almost every morning, but I seriously doubt that has helped my lipid levels.

Getting old is no fun. It's rather cruel, actually. 

At Least That Is Over

Mother's Day

I don't recall when I last dreaded a Mother's Day so much as this one. There was no reason to dread it, particularly, but it is not my favorite holiday anyway. I suspect my upcoming 60th birthday had something to do with it.

So, I stayed off of Facebook with its syrupy photos of happy mothers and adorable children who are now old, stodgy adults trying to rebuild a 20th century that hasn't existed for 50 years, and tried to ignore other aspects of the holiday as well. I did my part by ensuring my husband's mother received her due as matriarch, and gave my stepmother flowers, but otherwise, I was over this "holiday" before it even began.

It's no secret that my mother and I had a bad relationship. I have had trouble with this celebration ever since I was a teenager. Hallmark doesn't sell "I'm sorry I was born and ruined your life," cards. At least, not around here. Not in the hardware store where the Hallmark cards are now.

It doesn't help when the bank hands out presents to you without even asking if you're a mom. I guess they assume everyone with gray hair has children. But not all of us have moms, or had good moms, and not all of us have children.

There are women like me who have no mothers and no children, making us what, irrelevant?

Book Banning

On the local front, I hear through my line of contacts that the library board meeting last week was a doozy, complete with screaming, invasion of personal space, and possibly throwing things (I heard two different versions of that so let's just say something happened). Someone should have called the Sheriff's Office and asked for a deputy. I hope they do that next month.

The issue, at this juncture, is LBGTQ+ books in the children's section of the library, along with some other books that show how babies are made that narrow minds consider pornographic. I have only checked out one - the only one I can find that's available as an audiobook - and didn't find any issues with it.

Of course, I have no children, so I suppose some might say I have no dog in this fight, but to be clear, neither does the person who is causing most of the uproar. My dog in this fight is this - if I want to read a book, then I want it to be available or I want the library to order it for me so I can read it, and not be stifled by these Christian Nationalists who think anything that doesn't portray what they approve of shouldn't be purchased.

As if they are the only people in this county who pay taxes. Plenty of other folks who don't subscribe to their cult pay taxes, and we want our books.

Matters of the Heart

Tomorrow, I go to see a cardiologist. I have developed a new heart murmur and my doctor wants me checked out. She's been very helpful, saying things like, "Your blood pressure is at stroke level," and "You don't have to worry about getting dementia, you're going to die of a heart attack long before that happens."

She is trying to ensure I follow through and go see this person, I suppose. She doesn't have to try that hard. I am old enough to die, but I'd just as soon it not happen right away.

This first visit will likely just be a howdy-do and the cardiologist will listen to my heart and then order bloodwork and maybe an ultrasound to start. Maybe he will do an EKG since I haven't had one in 10 years. That would make sense.

The doctor my GP wanted me to see is not taking new patients, so I'm seeing someone I know nothing about, except for what I found on the Internet. He studied internal medicine at Carilion - VA Tech School of Medicine in 2014-2017, then went on to do heart stuff in Louisiana. He can't have been in practice very long, but perhaps that means he's current on all the new stuff. Some of the older doctors still do things like they did 20 years ago.

I am trying to be positive about it, but I don't do "positive" very well sometimes.

Feint of Heart

Last week could have been worse.

Not only was I threatened over a silly article by a silly person, I was battling a problem with my blood pressure.

The numbers were running very high - stroke level high, actually. My doctor was telling me to take half of this pill or that to try to bring it down. I didn't know whether to exercise or go to bed.

Would that very last Baked Lays Potato Chip be the thing that threw me over the edge? I wondered.

And of course, things like having to phone the police to report said threatening phone call only upped my blood pressure. It certainly did nothing to ease it.

Finally, I saw my doctor on Thursday. She detected a new heart murmur. She's been listening to my heart for over 15 years so surely she would have heard it before were it not new.

She also said she heard a carotid bruit, which is a vascular sound over the carotid artery in the neck.

This is new, as well.

Add this to the pain in my calf that seems to be varicose veins, and it's starting to look like I have some kind of heart issue. Plaque buildup, probably. Too bad I can't brush my veins out like I do my teeth. 

Isn't learning that you are having heart problems just what one wants to hear to end out the week?

My doctor did not do bloodwork as I have terrible veins and the nurse that can easily do that was not in the office. She made a referral to a cardiologist but warned me not to expect to hear from the facility any time soon. Apparently, the days of making a referral and then seeing the expert with a few weeks are long gone. She said it may be months before I see a cardiologist, "but you'll be ok," adding that if she were really concerned, she would have sent me on to the emergency room.

In the meantime, she doubled one of my medicines, and the blood pressure numbers are lower now. Not great, but better than they were, and enough that I feel I have some breathing room.

Her notes on my chart indicate she is concerned about aortic stenosis. Aortic stenosis (AS or AoS) is the narrowing of the exit of the left ventricle of the heart (where the aorta begins).

However, I do not have the symptoms of this, which include loss of consciousness, shortness of breath, and chest pain. (Yes, I looked it up. Wouldn't you?) I have two out of 5 risk factors - high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and my cholesterol, while not great, is not running at really high levels. In fact, it was in the normal range 30 years ago when a doctor first checked it. 

I'm one of those people who think the numbers for cholesterol lower so the pharmaceutical companies can sell more drugs (I think the same thing about "A1C," which no one ever heard of until there was a drug available to "fix" it.). 

Cholesterol medicine did not agree with me when I tried it some years ago. I had cognitive issues with it and at one point could barely put two sentences together. That cleared up as soon as I stopped the medication. No one in my family tolerates cholesterol medication well, and since it seems to be a familial problem, I doubt seriously that there is little to be done about it.

My doctor told me once when I said something about being concerned about dementia since one of my medications is a suspect for that, that I shouldn't worry. "You'll die of a heart attack long before you get dementia," she said.

Comforting, eh?