Difficulty with Dust

Trying to get rid of the dust in our lives is such a crappy circle of suffering.  In order to make it better, need to get rid of all the dust collecting items.  In getting rid of the dust collecting items, have allergy attack.  Allergy attack prevents further looking through dust collecting items.  Over and over again.  Ugh.  Really need our air filters to step it up!

Allergies Suck

Today I woke up and immediately started sneezing.

After my sneezing fit, I had really bad sinus pressure, just like the past few days, and I realized my eyes were so swollen that I wasn't sure they would stay open.

Great. Our apartment is in a state of upheaval with the start of moving month coming up and, combined with the tree pollen blowing around, our (multiple) air filters don't seem up to the job. I realize there's a lot of dust in here, but aren't the filters supposed to clean that out of the air?

Perhaps packing and moving during the height of tree allergy season wasn't the best idea (but of course that wouldn't be an issue if we didn't have 6.5 years of clutter stored up).

That said, it's not any better at work where I also have 6.5 years of files stored up. I think I need a "clean room" to get the pollen out of my system because these terrible allergies are really stealing all of my energy. Ugh.

Exhausted

As A mentioned, we found a new apartment and are moving soon. Really soon. Like this weekend soon. Luckily we don't have to move everything in one weekend, but, considering we will be working and moving at the same time, it isn't really that much time at all. We're digging through 6.5 years of crap. I'm actually doing that both at home and at work. It's another job in itself!

We're excited about the new place but one unintended negative side effect has been on our health. After work, there isn't really enough time to go to the gym and do any significant packing up at home while still getting sleep. There's barely enough time in the day to do everything without the packing. How do people do it?

Another "bad" health effect is on sleeping. By moving around and packing late at night, it makes us more awake, leading us to sleep later and wake up exhausted. I looked at my fitbit stats this morning and it was crazy. I was restless and moving about a lot for most of the night (I don't remember all the details of my dream but I think it was part work and part running around), until my alarms started going off. Yes, that's correct. My deepest, most restful sleep was after the first alarm in our bedroom went off. Something about that just isn't right. It's like the alarm signaled to my brain that it's its last chance to get some sleep.

These days it seems like what wakes me up is a combination of the alarm and realizing the intense congestion and sinus pressure that built up overnight due to my allergies. At some point it becomes unbearable and I have to go running for the tissue box. Nice to know that my body doesn't want to get up except to deal with allergies.

Going to have to try harder to sleep earlier and efficiently pack before it. The problem last night was that we had to rush around clearing a lot of space so someone could look at our apartment today. (We didn't think anyone would need to see it until after we started moving out, based on our conversation with our leasing person, but I guess they are insisting on seeing it now even though the same unit on another floor is vacant to look at ... which is what we looked at for our new place... but whatever.) Granted, it is cleaning and packing and organizing we would need to do anyway at some point, but it just put more pressure on us to make sure that all got done in time. Hopefully tonight will be better and we can get more rest.

Cleaning and Packing

Recently M and I started looking for a new panda dwelling to inhabit. We did a few unguided tours around some of the outer boroughs in NYC, and we did a broker-guided tour of the Financial District as well. We found a place that we really loved. It was big, had great closet space, a washer and dryer in the unit, and the rent included the use of their gym and pool in the building. Things didn't quite work out as miscommunication with our broker about fees made us miss out on this unit. In the end, this was a blessing as we found ourselves a new home.

Now comes the hard part. When we moved from Chicago nearly 6.5 years ago, we weren't the most diligent packers. We had an entire week to pack up all of our stuff, and instead of getting to work on that, we packed intermittently while also enjoying all of our favorite restaurants one last time before we left. What this resulted in was a sleepless final night followed by a great deal of random boxing of remaining items before cramming everything into our rented truck. We had initially only reserved our building freight elevator from 9am-noon as they booked out 3 hour blocks. Thankfully no one else had reserved the freight elevator all day, and we didn't end up leaving until after 8pm.

Now, that would all be well and good since we've had 6.5 years to figure everything out, but the worst part is that we never actually unpacked after getting to NYC. Sure we unpacked most of our boxes and set up our apartment, but we have boxes that, until recently, we hadn't even opened yet. We've also been very delinquent with keeping our apartment clean, and that was also hindered by our unfinished unpacking job. So now we're in a panic cleaning up all of the dust that has caked itself on to most of our items, throwing away/donating things we don't want, and packing up. Thankfully we have an entire month to pack and move as we opted to double up rent for one month, but with the amount of pure crap we have, even that might not be enough. At this rate we're hoping to avoid another last minute cram and move of our remaining items, but the more we look at the daunting piles around our apartment, the more worried we become that this will become a reality. After all, we still have to work for this month, and that only leaves us with a few hours each night to clean, pack, and move. For now we'll cross or fingers, keep plugging away at our mess, and hope for the best.

The Hunger Games

Unless you don't pay any attention to pop culture, you probably know that the movie The Hunger Games comes out on Friday (Thursday night at midnight). I finally got around to reading the book recently (which was awesome) and am so excited for the movie. I've watched the trailers (all of them) just about everyday, a lot of the interview clips, the red carpet interviews, everything. We would usually go for a Sunday matinee on opening weekend (as I'm a big opening weekend person) but we can't go this weekend! That means we have to either wait until the next weekend or buy a ticket for the midnight showing. As much as I would love to see it in the midnight showing, we're going to wait for a bunch of reasons, including:

- We would have to wait in line for hours in preparation for the midnight showing. We used to do that for Harry Potter but I feel old now.

- The movie is long (2.5 hours) so it probably won't be over until close to 3 am. We unfortunately have to go to work on Friday. Not that we're not up at 3 am (it's 2:45 now, after all), but we'll be wired from the movie and most likely won't sleep for at least another hour. And we're old now.

- The midnight showing will probably be packed with screaming teenage fangirls. Did you see Liam Hemsworth's interview on GMA? I'm not sure I can take that, especially if it goes through the whole show.

So I guess we'll wait. But I am so excited for the movie!!

Home at Last

One year ago today, it was in the 70s and sunny. Spring had finally come. I went to the hospital on Tuesday morning, shivering and in a down coat and fleece pants, and I was going home on Friday night on a warm spring day. It was surreal.

Yes, I said going home.

It took until 9 pm or so to finish the paperwork and check out, but I was released and finally allowed to leave. I was never given an official diagnosis but the difficult thing was that, if a virus had exacerbated my antibiotic allergy, it was probably already out of my system by the time the blood tests were being run, and they weren't finding much. But my important numbers were finally getting back to normal, my fever was down, my appetite and spirit were returning, and there was no reason I couldn't continue my recovery at home since there wasn't anything more that I needed other than time.

Finally.

I was so happy to go home. To be with A. To not be woken up at 6 am to get my arm drained of blood. To not have an IV poking out of my wrist. To not have constant noise outside my open door and no privacy whatsoever. To take a real shower. To sleep in my own bed. To eat real food. To watch TV. And so much more.

It's still surreal to me, one year later, that this whole thing happened. It made me think a lot about life (what else was there to do for hours in the hospital?) and priorities. It's hard to change the system in which you're placed and the constraints within which you have to live, but I've been trying so hard to make small changes. Not having much success but reliving this experience has committed me to work harder at it. No more laziness. Time to tackle life!

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Thursday came and things seemed to be getting slightly better. I was no longer having severe chills and my fever seemed to finally drop. I felt like more of a person. I still didn't know what was wrong with me. The doctors had lots of possibilities but no answers. They took more vials of blood. I continued laying around all day in misery. The service at the hospital didn't help. For example, first thing in the morning:


This type of thing really, really, really annoys me. I hate when people talk to me more slowly or with some sort of accent because they think I can't understand English. Wake up! It's not only white people that speak English! You have Asian nurse colleagues. Don't you think they understand English?

While the fever seemed to be slowly getting better, I was still having coughing and asthma problems. I was finally able to switch over to Allegra instead of taking the Claritin from the hospital. We had to buy our own Allegra but it's fine since we use it anyway. Claritin has never really worked for me.


At least I was feeling well enough to be able to tweet about things other than being miserable in the hospital:


I really wanted an answer to what happened to me. But the doctors were never around and seemed not to have any clue. There was only one doctor that I liked - the infectious disease guy. He was willing to answer all of my questions to the extent he could and took the time to at least talk to me. The rest of them, it was just like stopping by to say they stopped by.

I was finally strong enough to take a shower that day. (Can I tell you how much fun it is to try to take a shower with an IV in one arm?) I also learned that they had left my shoes in the old room when they moved me out and moved in the person with TB who needed the quarantine room. Great, my sneakers were still in the room since they moved me out so carelessly, and now someone in there is really sick. Just what I needed. I couldn't carry anything more in my hands the night before and they told me they had everything else, but no, they didn't. Can't they do anything right? I know I'm complaining a lot about it but I just felt so sick that every little annoyance bothered me.

I still didn't have much of an appetite. Lunch was tuna salad with a vegetable gumbo soup, Italian blended vegetables (which I gave to my mom because they had a lot of broccoli and cauliflower) and chilled pears. I didn't eat much at all. It just wasn't appetizing and I didn't really feel that hungry. The fever might have been cooling but I still wasn't eating much yet.


The afternoon came and went. I rested when I could. It was nice to be able to nap in the middle of the day and not have to think about what time I needed to be up. That type of rest and freedom was welcome, but I wish that I could have that without being in the hospital! At some point they noticed I was really dehydrated and they were still pumping me full of saline in the IV... so finally, that IV was gone! Another good sign for leaving! Unfortunately I already knew I was staying overnight because the doctor told me he needed more blood for the test and they had already taken blood that day and would need to take it again in the morning. Oh well.

Dinner was chicken paella with steamed squash and the usual collection of side items. My fever had finally dropped below 100 for a prolonged period of time and my appetite was slowly coming back. I ate maybe 75% of dinner. That was a huge improvement for me and I could tell that I was recovering. Maybe the doctors didn't know what happened but the antibiotics plus allergy medicine was doing the trick. I couldn't believe my fever had been over 100 for over 4 days. That really took a toll on my body. I must have aged so much that week. I wasn't back to 100% yet, but at least things were better.


Even though things were looking up, I was still coughing, which felt like asthma to me. I asked them for Singulair, which had always worked in the past during the severe parts of allergy season, and they added it to my pill rotation that day. I had high hopes that it would help fix me.


That night, I finally got some real sleep for the first time since this whole debacle began over the weekend. So thankful for the little things.

Hospital Day 2

Between the shivering, the fever, the ring trauma, and being in an unfamiliar place, I didn't get much sleep on my first night in the hospital. I slept for maybe an hour before they came in with breakfast. I managed to nap on and off throughout the morning which was rather uneventful. Just doctor visits and shivering under my mountain of blankets. Fever stayed over 102 for most of the day.

Noon brought lunch. Over breakfast, I had filled out the form they gave me to choose my meals. For lunch I picked a grilled chicken caesar salad with spinach and fruit cocktail, thinking that would be healthy to pick at. What arrived was a plate of beef ragout, rice, and banana cake. I hate wasting food but none of that appealed to my already low appetite. After much back and forth, I learned they had no more salad, never got my form, and all I could get was tuna salad or egg salad. Since I hate egg salad, I went with tuna salad and got this unexciting plate.


I tried to eat the sandwich but it was like trying to force myself to go through the motions of eating. I really had no appetite. On top of the fever, I was also battling my asthma all day, which was arising for some unknown reason. The nebulizer helped me feel a lot better, although it was only temporary, and we didn't know why I was reacting to begin with.

Awful picture of me, but it's how I'm feeling. Clearly still freezing - under my hospital gown, fleece sweatshirt, multiple blankets, down coat
For much of the afternoon, I alternated between being warm and being so cold that I huddled my entire body under the mountain of blankets, shaking to try to warm up. They kept telling me to take the blankets off but I felt so chilled to the bone without them, so why would I do that?

After some time, the fever seemed to go down a little bit, enough that I could eat the fruit cocktail they managed to find.


I also managed to eat a little bit of real food at dinner, which was turkey with green beans and stuffing. Luckily that arrived during a break between fever bouts. And stuffing was the only thing that had seemed appetizing for days.


I had more asthma issues throughout the night, and then at 11:30 pm, after the nurse helped me off the nebulizer yet again, she told me they were moving me. What?! At 11:30 pm, after visiting hours, when I'm alone. Now you're going to move me? Can't this wait until the morning? Or couldn't you have done this earlier when A or my parents were there? Are you moving me because I happen to be awake? I was going from a solo room to a joint room and not very happy about having to share space. I was suffering enough from the fever (but I guess they decided I wasn't carrying some infectious disease) that all I wanted to do at 11:30 was try to sleep, especially since because of the ring debacle the night before, I had barely slept at all. I was about to get into bed! But no, right now it's time to move to a new room, get acclimated, figure out where all my stuff was going to go, etc. So considerate. My side of the joint room was tiny compared to what I had before and I was so frustrated that I kept moving all the furniture around (couldn't figure out how I wanted it) while hooked up to the IV. Guess my adrenaline still worked as I didn't even have the energy to stand earlier in the day. And I wasn't being a bad roommate. My roommate slept through the whole thing.


The joint room was in the middle of a long hallway filled with other patients, jabbering away, coughing, sneezing, and making other sick noises. I felt safer in the quarantine room! Here, with my fever, I had a better chance of picking up some other horrible disease and I was worried I was going to get even sicker or not recover at all thanks to the move. I couldn't sleep with all the noise (and my roommate, who seemed like a very nice lady, snored at a high decibel level) and asked the nurses if they had earplugs. They suggested Ambien. No thank you, I do not want drugs. I just wanted something to physically block out all the aggravating noises around me because I just came from a room that was silent other than the whirring white noise of the machines. I tossed and turned for hours and barely got any sleep. Thanks for helping me get better, hospital.

Eventually I wore myself out from all the stress and frustration (and furniture moving) and managed to make it to sleep for at least a little while amidst all the racket outside. I really hoped they would figure out what was wrong with me so I could go home!

Hospitalized

(This is a hard post to write because so much happened that day and I was in a bit of a haze from the fever. I may not have all the details 100% correct, but this is what I remember and at least represents how I feel.)

After my fever spiked at 104.5 overnight, I went back to the doctor in the morning. A went with me before work because I felt like I was going to pass out from the fever (which hadn't gone down) and didn't want it to be in the middle of 42nd Street. We also thought, from our internet research, that there was a remote possibility that they would send me to the hospital and I might need his help.

The doctor took a quick look at me and told me that I needed to go straight to the hospital. No going home first, no stops, straight there. Which scared the crap out of me in its urgency but also wasn't completely shocking. She thought I might be having an allergic reaction to the antibiotics I was on. I've never been allergic to medicine before so that possibility never occurred to me. I had kept taking the pills, so maybe that's why my fever just kept getting worse.

We jumped in a cab and went to the hospital, preparing to wait forever to see a doctor, like every other time I've ever visited the ER. I wrote a quick message to the people I was working with, telling them I was en route to the hospital. At least now it would be clear that I was seriously ill and not faking it!

We got to the ER and shockingly, there was no wait. I was processed quickly and they brought me into a room. I was stunned that there was no one else around. Since I was freezing cold and shaking, I felt really lucky. They quickly hooked me up to an IV to get me some fluids.

Wearing fleece, under multiple blankets and two coats... and shaking from the chills. So so cold.
They also attached some liquid antibiotics to the IV. They told me they were the strong ones so that it could help bring down my fever faster. I was relieved that something might finally help.

I fell in and out of sleep. I was so exhausted from the fever. However, at some point, I realized my hands were really itchy. I couldn't stop scratching my fingers and it woke me up. I realized my fingers and hands were all swollen with hives. I kept pressing the call button and trying to flag someone and they eventually came in. I showed them the allergic reaction and they cut off the antibiotics. Was I now allergic to even more antibiotics?

Allergic hands
They kept me in the emergency room for awhile on the IV and the doctor checked in with me every so often. At one point after the allergic reaction, she mentioned I should try to take my rings off because my fingers were pretty swollen. If I couldn't get them off, she noted, they would have to cut them off. Cue: panic and crying fit. My wedding ring and engagement ring? On top of everything else going on, now my rings?! I knew they were just things but it pained me to think that they would be cut because of their sentimental value. I tried as hard as I could to get them off but my fingers were hard and swollen and larger than the rings. I was distraught over having to get the rings cut off. Nothing worked. It took hours but eventually I was resigned to the fact that I needed to do this. I could get them redone. As important as they were to me, they were just things. And I didn't want to lose my finger. I was thinking that if the rings cut off all the circulation to my finger, it might die and I would have to get the finger cut off. Oh, the things you think of in the hospital. Is that even possible, medical people?

I couldn't dwell on it that long. By late afternoon, they had moved me upstairs (being wheeled around felt weird) and officially admitted me to the hospital. My first hospitalization. Wheee. They gave me a private room because with the red rashes and fever they didn't know if I had something really contagious. I was in isolation. Yay quarantine. I was so cold that I spent most of my time under blankets and coats but not getting any warmer. Isolation was fine. I wasn't going anywhere.

We kept trying to get the rings off. Some people thought warm water would help (why?) so they soaked my hand in warm soapy water. Nope. Ice water. Nope. Lots of lotion. Nope. It's the simple law of size. A small circular ring will not fit over something larger which is rock solid and not the least bit malleable. They kept trying. I told them what the ER doctor said about cutting it off. They said they had to ask maintenance (why?). Then they said maintenance left. Then they needed a doctor to order it. Maybe I got the order all wrong but that's the general gist of what happened.

At some point dinner arrived.


Roasted chicken, mixed vegetables and pasta. Smelled good but it was all very bland and watery. There was also apple juice, a dinner roll, banana cake, milk and tea. Boring and not very tasty. Didn't really matter much though since I barely had any appetite and all I could think about was how cold I was. How much I was shivering.

My finger was still swollen at night and showed no sign of going down. A stayed with me for awhile, and we kept asking them to cut my rings off. But the rings stayed on. As the day wore on, my finger got more and more painful. It wouldn't bend. It was solid. The antibiotics I reacted to were probably leaving my system but the rings seemed to be blocking that from happening in this finger. I needed to get them off. I was distressed and shared my anxiety on facebook:


The shifts at the hospital must have changed and a new doctor came to see me at night. I relayed the entire story about the rings to him and told him the ER doctor told me it would be necessary if I couldn't get them off myself. This was the first doctor who actually seemed to care what I thought, who actually listened to me. He told me he would get them cut if I really wanted that to happen, and asked me what I wanted to do. I had clearly been thinking about it all day and was making an informed decision. I asked him to cut them off. It pained me to say it but I knew I had to do it.


Look how horribly swollen my fingers are! Obviously the rings needed to be cut. Hours passed before they finally showed up to cut off the rings. I felt awful because I had called A to come back to the hospital (luckily they agreed to let him in) so he could take the rings home with him, since I didn't want them unsecured in the hospital. He had to work the next day and it was really, really late and taking them forever to show up.

For some reason, I thought cutting off the rings would be easy. I thought it would be like a super strong clip or pair of scissors that would just snap off the rings. Mechanically I guess that isn't really possible since rings are made to be strong. Instead the ring cutting machine is more like a wheel that grinds down the metal until the rings split.


Probably not a surprise then that cutting off the rings was a process that took a really long time. They tried the electric (?) one but it was producing sparks and my finger burned from the heat. So they were stuck with the manual one. And they had to cut 2 rings which were really close together. There also wasn't much space since my finger was so swollen. So much pain. A even helped with one of the rings to make the process go more quickly.


Pretty clear by the end of it why the rings needed to be cut, right? My finger went through such trauma and even ended up scraped on the sides. But I was so relieved that the rings were finally off. A went back home. It was so late and I felt so guilty for keeping him awake. But I was really glad he was there. After 4:30 am, I was finally able to try to get some sleep, although, with how crappy I still felt, there really wasn't much sleeping happening.


What a day indeed.

Up to 104

I woke up that Monday morning with a high fever, higher than it was the entire day before. I felt like I was burning up and was glad I was going to be working from home.


The fever continued all day. But it wasn't just my temperature. Little red spots had started to appear on my arms. I wondered if this was just redness from the fever but throughout the day the red dots seemed to spread and multiply. By the end of the day, my body was covered in large red spots, mostly on my arms and legs. It didn't itch like allergy hives but they were swollen and very red. I was so alarmed and paranoid that I even looked up the symptoms for measles.

I spoke to the doctor about the high fever and the red dots, and she said to take Tylenol for my fever if needed. Since I was feeling chilled from the fever all day and my temperature had not gone down at all (I checked it constantly), I decided Tylenol might be a good idea. I also decided to take a long hot shower. It started out just warm, but I was having chills while in the shower, so I just kept making it hotter and hotter to try to alleviate the chills. I knew in my head it probably wasn't a good idea but I did it anyway.


I tried to get some rest, but the fever wasn't going down at all. I kept trying to warm up but nothing I did worked. I knew I was going to have to go back to the doctor the next day because I took Tylenol but my fever just kept going up.


I think 104-104.5 was the highest it went but throughout the night it would not go down. This recap, one year later, can't possibly do justice to the fear and anxiety and illness that I felt last year. I couldn't remember the last time I had a fever that high and I didn't know what to do about it. I was so scared and the minutes ticked by so slowly as I shivered under a mountain of blankets and kept getting colder. I never want to feel like that again.

Republican Tracksuits

Mitt Romney was in my dream last night.

 

Gross, I know.

 

He was clad head to toe in a bright red tracksuit, Sue Sylvester style.

 

All the Republican candidates were there in tracksuits trying to win votes (at least they were all supposed to be there but I only really remember Romney - maybe he was the closest to me - and someone else was wearing blue).  It was a big gymnasium and really active with lots of screaming and talking and hustling.

 

At some point I also dreamed about Spencer from Pretty Little Liars holding a shirt that had hair all over it and the hair was incriminating evidence (of what, I have no idea).  Her ex-boyfriend Toby was there too.

 

At another point I dreamed that A (not PLL A) and I were at a restaurant specializing in Pacific Islands fare.  (I don't even know what the cuisine of the Pacific Islands is.)  We had stumbled upon it and were so excited because this would really help our progress on the WorldEats challenge, as right now there isn't anywhere that we know of with food from Fiji or Nauru or Tonga or the other islands.

 

I still can't believe Mitt Romney was in my dream.  Blech.

Hello Fever

Still reliving the health crisis of one year ago. One year ago today was a Sunday, the day after the daylight savings time change. I had a 9 am conference call for work (so my body still thought it was 8 am). I forced myself to get up early, but I was not feeling well. I think, as we venture into health crisis week, I'll let whatever tweets I have speak for themselves.


I tried to rest but a feeling that something was wrong persisted. Why was I so cold? Our apartment wasn't warm but I felt chilled to the bone and I was wearing my snuggie. Why did my body hurt so much? I hadn't done anything to justify the achiness and it felt like more than just tiredness. After a bit of time, I decided to take my temperature.


I hadn't had a fever over 100 in years, but I really didn't want to go back to the doctor. It would be my 4th visit to the doctor in 8 days. I hoped that it would pass during the day, but it didn't. I rested at home while working, ate a sandwich, tried to warm up, but I still felt sick. I had a headache, sinus ache, earache, congestion, body aches from head to toe, a fever that fluctuated between 100 and 101, constant chills, and coughing. I tried to self-diagnosis and came up with the flu. I did get a flu shot that fall but knew it was still possible that I caught a different strain of the flu.

Finally in the afternoon I forced myself to go over to the walk-in doctors at Duane Reade. I needed to make sure I didn't have the flu. They thought it was some sort of virus and could be a 24 hour virus or the flu. She advised me to take a sick day on Monday, and if it wasn't over by the end of the day, it was probably the flu. Great, another sick day. People at work were going to think that I was some lazy slacker with all these sick days even though I was legitimately sick and felt like complete crap.

We went back home, ordered Thai for dinner, and I tried to rest some more. By the end of the night, my temperature started going down to around 99 and I hoped that meant it was a 24 hour bug.


I was so sick of being sick. What a crappy feeling. But it was nothing compared to what was to come.

Getting Better

Things got better last year after I switched to a new antibiotic. At least, I thought things were better. I stayed home again on Wednesday of that week as a precaution. Since the skin infection could be contagious, the doctor thought it would prudent to work from home that day if I could, and I agreed. I felt a little useless since I was home sick but was completely functional and just trying to not spread the infection to anyone else. I did have other health issues as I apparently napped in a way that screwed up my neck shortly after going to the chiropractor. Oops.

On Thursday, I went back to work. I saw the unveiling of the signs at Discovery Times Square announcing the Harry Potter exhibit and was super excited. I went about my day like any other work day and was relieved that things seemed to be going back to normal. That night was anything but normal, as I stayed up until 5 am glued to the tragic Japan earthquake and tsunami coverage. Nothing negative about my health, but it felt awful seeing such devastation. I can't believe it's been a year. It feels like that happened so long ago with the way the world has moved on. Friday was another "regular" day. Not much happened other than being glued to the earthquake coverage and grabbing some Japanese food for lunch.

That Saturday, I finally got some sleep (after a rough week of not sleeping from being sick, the earthquake and other random insomnia reasons) and A and I went out for snacks and a walk. I had a bad headache and backache but I figured that I was just in need of a massage. My arm had dramatically improved with the new antibiotics. I had kept monitoring it and, after being on them for a few days, they really seemed to be working. The redness was almost gone and just centered around the bump, which seemed to have some peeling skin, but that was about it. It looked better. We went for a late dinner that night at Southern Hospitality and shortly thereafter, I had a stomachache. I thought it was from eating too much at dinner (possible) or eating too much crap at dinner (lots of fried food and it was ridiculously salty). It was the night the clocks changed for daylight savings time and I really needed to rest before a 9 am conference call (yup, on a Sunday), but I went to sleep late (stomachache!). I figured that would pass because why would I have a stomachache like that if not for disagreeable food?

The next morning... well, it would all go downhill from there. It's going to be tough reading updates from a year ago this week (if I was physically able to update at all, but I think I did). It was a tough week.

Losing My Mind

Panic.

 

That's what I felt just a short time ago.

 

I was in my office and all of a sudden I realized my phone was nowhere to be found.  I didn't need to make a call but I always have my phone with me.  Where could it be?

 

I frantically searched my office thinking that maybe it was under a pile of papers.  Nope.  What could I have done with it?  I remembered playing with it when by my assistant's desk so I rushed over there.  Nope.  But where did I go between her desk and my office?  It took a really long time but I finally realized I had been in the bathroom.  I guess I was on such autopilot that I managed to go from her desk, to the bathroom and back to my office without actually forming any memory of the action.  That's really alarming.  I'm not even that exhausted so why am I losing my mind?  Why am I not even remembering where I've been?  What if I had been walking outside in traffic?  I've done that on autopilot too.  What's wrong with me?

 

Anyway, the phone was there, right where I left it.  Panic resolved.

New Meds

I stayed home from work for a few days after the arm bump incident. On the first day I was home (Monday), I kept watch on my arm, trying to see if the antibiotics were working. Unfortunately it didn't seem any better so I went back to the doctor that afternoon. After explaining the whole story, the doctor (a different one from the day before) said she thought I had a skin infection instead of just an infected bug bite. Maybe it came from a bug bite, but maybe it came from somewhere else (and there were so many possibilities). She gave me different antibiotics which should target the infection better and I started on those right away.

Research into the skin infection, in contrast to an infected bug bite, was much scarier. There could be serious complications from an infection like this! I hoped that the new antibiotics (and the sleep and rest I was getting from being home from work) would do the trick. The second doctor also told me to stay home on Tuesday because the infection could be contagious.

I hate staying home from work and actually being sick (unlike a vacation day or a holiday). But despite the exhaustion and fatigue from the illness, I made the best of Tuesday - catching up on the DVR, snacking on yummy Celeste pizza, and watching my favorite soccer team Barcelona play Arsenal.

By the end of the night, my arm seemed slightly better. At the very least, it wasn't worse. On Sunday, we hadn't measured the redness on my arm, but on Monday, we drew a pen line around the outer edge. I was happy that the infection looked like it hadn't spread past the line and might even be receding. Things were looking up. I even tweeted a very optimistic update during the day on Tuesday:


Hope is a powerful thing.

It Started With a Bump

One year ago today, I woke up at my parents' house and found a giant bump on my arm. It looked like a bull's eye and was a perfect (and rather large) red circle. I was alarmed. I was 99% sure it wasn't there before I went to sleep and I couldn't even remember the small circular bump in the middle (which looked like a puncture mark) being there before. How could this happen?

I did what I always do when something medical is alarming me - I immediately turned to google. I put in all of my symptoms and after reading a bunch of sites, was convinced I had a spider bite or some random bug bite. After all, we were out near a lot of trees and dirt and other things we don't have in the concrete jungle. It was possible. And we had gone running by my old high school the day before. The high school which is surrounded by woods on 4 sides. Thick wooded areas which every 17 years produce tons of cicadas that scare the crap out of me and hold who knows what other demonic bug creatures. (I really don't like bugs.)

I didn't know what to do about the bite. I could try to treat it myself but the size and the perfect circle and the sudden onset of the swelling was sending up all kinds of red flags. I took some allergy medicine, applied some ice, and decided to go to the doctor. We were supposed to go for massage therapy that day, so I was going to go to the walk-in doctors after that since I always need massage therapy. However, just before we were about to leave, they called and cancelled on A, so massage therapy was off for the day. Off to the doctor I went.

The doctor wasn't entirely sure what it was, but guessed that it was an infected bug bite. What kind of bug? No idea. They gave me a prescription for some antibiotics and, since it was a puncture mark of unknown origin, a tetanus shot. Wheee. Just how I wanted to spend my Sunday.

I picked up my antibiotics and we went about our day like we normally would (running all of our errands). By the end of the day, I was a bit of a mess. On top of the swollen bug bite, I was extremely fatigued and my right upper eyelid wouldn't stop twitching (usually it's the lower one). It was hard to see. With all of the distractions, we left my parents' house late, got home late, and went to sleep late.

By the end of the night, the swelling seemed different. The perfect circle was gone, but it was redder than it was in the morning. It also seemed to cover a large section of my forearm. The doctor had said that the antibiotics should work but it looked to me like it wasn't getting any better. I hoped that sleep would fix it and that I wouldn't need to go back to the doctor.

Despite all of this happening, and happening so suddenly, I still didn't think anything was seriously wrong. It was more annoying and confusing and weird than scary. I was overloaded with work and this was a horrible time to be getting sick. I just wanted the bump to go away, and it was just a bump, so how concerning could it really be? (As a side note, I looked carefully through all my old pictures weeks later and found one from February with a light mark in the same spot as the puncture mark, so it's entirely possible this wasn't a bug bite and was a long time developing.)

Thanks to twitter, I know that I ended the night saying that I was "hoping for a better week." If I only knew what was to come...

Island Hills

I had another very vivid dream last night.  (I'm not taking melatonin either!)  I don't remember that much of it now that I'm awake, but I do remember that in my dream:

 

- We were on an island with lots of hills and roads that went along the outside cliffside of the island.  Kind of like Maui, but it wasn't Maui.  There were lots of houses built up on the hillsides (as opposed to the water), not on top of one another, but plentiful.  The hills were high but walkable/hikeable, so definitely not the West Maui Mountains I see in my mind.  Influenced by a double feature of Hawaii 5-0 last night?

 

- One of my coworkers was giving the traffic report on TV or radio.  I can only imagine that this was going on at the same time as the NY1 Road and Rail Report because the type of delivery was similar (except in a different voice and with respect to that island's roads and rails) and I could see my coworker's face when she delivered the report.  I only just realized that they have the same name.  Hmm.  I also don't know what kind of rails this small island would have.

 

- We were looking for something on the hillside and were walking up the hill for some reason.

 

- We were definitely listening to the traffic report and at one point driving along the curvy cliffside road.

 

- In the dream, I remember being confused about having such an extensive traffic report when there was really only one main road.  Fighting off inception?

 

I don't remember what else was going on.  But it wasn't a relaxing dream as we were searching and/or running.  Why do I keep running in my dreams?  If only I had that type of energy in real life.  Is my real life energy being sapped by my active dreams?

Flashback - March 5

I like flashback posts. Even if I don't write them very often. So what were we doing on March 5 in previous years?

One year ago today, we were visiting my parents. It was 60 degrees out and we were so happy that it was finally spring. We went for a run by my old high school which felt harder than it should have been and I was in so much pain. After resting, we went for a nice Italian dinner at Vola (which I'm not sure is still around). It was the last good day before the medical crisis happened.

The outdoor patio at Vola on a gorgeous night
Two years ago today, I had just pulled an all-nighter at work for a giant urgent deal. It was a Friday night and we had a break and I went with A to Uncle Nick's Ouzaria for a nice Greek meal. We had our usual dips, meatballs, the stuffed chicken below, and saganaki, which made me happier than I thought it would. I didn't even realize I was craving it but I guess I was. Why was Friday night a break? Because starting Saturday morning, it was all deal, all the time. I think I slept 8 hours total over the next 3 days (if that much), which made me sad.

Kotopoulo gemisto a la greco (chicken breast roulade stuffed with feta, with wilted spinach, sauteed mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, and balsamic sauce)
Three years ago today, I worked late (until 11:30) and A gave me the play-by-play on that night's episode of American Idol while I worked. (I guess we still watched it then.) Goodburger (the branch which is now gone) forgot my brownie and were closed by the time I realized it, which made me sad.

Four years ago today, we were thinking about politics. 2008 was a big political year for us. They blocked Scrabulous at work that day, which made me sad. It broke my addiction to the game and I never really got back into it or its alternatives. I just found a different distraction.

Five years ago today, it was snowing and I was dealing with dental woes. I was in pain all day, which made me sad. We met my parents for dinner at Hsin Wong in Chinatown and all I wanted were soft foods.

Chicken, scallops and string beans... kind of soft foods
Six years ago today, we were driving back from Pittsburgh to NYC. We had taken a weekend trip to see A's parents as they cleaned out their house in Pittsburgh in preparation for their move. It was a nice weekend full of family and old memories. I don't know how we did all that driving in such a short period of time without passing out from exhaustion along the way. I wish we could feel young(er) again...

At a rest stop in Pennsylvania
Seven years ago today, we were still in Chicago. I was studying for my penultimate quarter of exams, really bored, and watching a Project Runway marathon. We went for dinner at Osteria via Stato, an Italian place with a prix fixe menu that gave you free "refills" on dishes (other than the main courses). From what I remember, we enjoyed our dinner.

Red wine from our Osteria via Stato dinner
Some of my March 5ths weren't so great, but there were also plenty of good memories. This year wasn't too bad, just kind of boring and klutzy. Always interesting to compare.

No More Anxiety

I'm in a bad mood. I really hate waking up with all this stress and anxiety but am not sure what to do to fix it. Yoga? I haven't done that in awhile. Meditation? Nighttime stretching?

This time I woke up 30 minutes before my alarm. I was soaked in sweat (even though I was actually cold for the most part) and I think I drank too much iced tea last night (TMI? I also need to stop with the late night iced tea). However, instead of going back to sleep and instead of just forcing myself to get up to work out (I was able to do that in the fall at some point), I just laid in bed thinking anxious thoughts. I was thinking about potential changes at work that could interfere with vacation and what would happen if I were ordered to cancel our only real vacation of the year (yes, we went to Cancun already but that was in February and only a couple of days) and had to absorb the whole cost. One hour later, after my phone smacked itself onto the floor (sigh), I finally got up.

What is my problem?!

Punched in the Nose

Last night I woke up rather unpleasantly around 5:45 am. I felt really cold and like I had been punched in the nose, but only on the left side. I don't think I was actually punched in the nose while sleeping because there was no pain and it only affected half my nose, but the pressure and the discomfort were pretty bad. I managed to get back to sleep but all day I've felt like there is a lump in my left nostril tickling me, making me sneeze, irritating my nose so much that my eyes water. What is this and how did it happen? Is it the start of a cold? I took my allergy medicine this morning so I don't think it's allergies but it's kind of like a pollen ball drifted in there overnight. So unpleasant.

Also, as an FYI - starting the 5th (which I guess is technically today but to me is tomorrow), I'm going to look back on where I was a year ago. I wasn't mentally or physically able to talk about my experience then, and was still very out of shape with blogging, but I don't want to forget what happened to me. That health crisis was a wake-up call to me. Even if there haven't been noticeable results since then, I mentally woke up. And I don't want to forget how bad it felt because I don't want to ever get there again.

Shemomedjamo

After reading an article about it today (I'm a little behind the times), I've become a little obsessed with the Georgian word shemomedjamo.  It's on all those lists of awesome foreign words that can't adequately be translated into English but express better what we want to say.  This word means continuing to eat even though you're already full just because you like the taste of your food.  I don't know about you, but I've definitely been there.  A lot.  I can't just leave the last bit of larb gai or mercimek kofte or that perfect al dente housemade cavatelli or spicy tuna roll pieces (etc, etc, etc) on the plate even if I'm full because they're so good.  I'm glad the Georgians gave it a name.  It deserves one.  I try to be good about portion control and not eating past being full (and just taking the rest home), but sometimes (often?) that discipline just goes out the window.  Shemomedjamo.

Hello March

First day of March. How is this possible? I feel like the year just started recently and there was so much I hoped to accomplish by March. Must find some way to take back control of my life... I'm not doing too well on the progressive resolutions front. I'm keeping up (for the most part) with the hydration, but remembering to take my vitamins daily has been such a task (I failed again today).

My greatest hope for March is that it is better than last year's March. Last year's March saw my first ever admission to the hospital, a hospital stay of almost a week thanks to a debilitating high fever, finding out I'm allergic to several antibiotics, having my wedding and engagement rings cut, complete exhaustion, and constant health monitoring and scares from other adverse reactions. I hope this March is better. I hope I'll, at the very least, be healthy.