Drugs Are Bad, mmKay?

I had my doctor appointment today to make I sure I didn't break my brain. She confirmed that the Lexapro withdrawal probably is making me a little bonkers, and although I really shouldn't have quit taking it all of a sudden, the damage won't be permanent. Unfortunately, another side effect I didn't anticipate is that my blood pressure is now really high. It's not like, internal-organ-blow-out high, but it probably explains the headache and dizziness.

And, get a load of this! Walgreens called me today to tell me my refill is ready - my refill of Lexapro they told me they didn't have, which started this whole pharmaceutical fiasco. Walgreens can suck my butt.

Best Withdrawal EVAR

I somewhat involuntarily took myself off the Lexapro, and let me tell you, it is going GREAT.

The night before Thanksgiving my prescription ran out. My pharmacy was closed until Friday, but I knew going without the crazy pills for couple of days wouldn't be a big deal. However, when I called for my refill, I discovered that my doctor's office never called it in. At first I freaked out and started making frantic phone calls. But, I already had an appointment scheduled for tomorrow, so I figured I'd just see how it turned out.

Whatever havoc I've accidentally wreaked on my brain chemistry has resulted in relentless optimism and excessive enthusiasm for just about everything. Yay, everything!

At first it seemed I had achieved a surprising level of mental stability and emotional maturity. For example, see my very reasonable post about my employment issues. Then I thought I was just feeling cheerful.

But now I'm having trouble falling asleep because I'm just having so much fun! lying there, thinking about stuff. My mother-in-law brought over some persimmons, which I had never tried before. When I tasted one, it was so excellent that I exclaimed out loud, all alone in my kitchen, "Persimmons! Fuck yeah!" This evening I noticed that it was 6:30, so I pumped my fists in exultation that it was 6:30! All right, 6:30! I don't know why.

I sort of feel like I just got off a roller coaster - sort of giddy and wobbly with a funny feeling in my stomach. I can only imagine I'm veering into some sort of drug withdrawal induced mania. It's really fun, but I'm glad I have a doctor appointment before I start skipping around the neighborhood naked, tossing flowers at everyone. Except they're not really flowers. They're like, rubber bands or something. You know, because I'm ker-RAY-zee.

Unmedicated Duckling

So, I made it to Austin with a bunch of wet underpants, but in my effort to correctly transport my liquids and gels, I forgot all about packing my non-liquids and gels, including my toothbrush. I cleaned my teeth with a washcloth this morning. Fortunately the hotel gift shop sells toothbrushes, and I was able to attend to my dental hygiene during the lunch break.

More distressingly, I also left behind all my medication: birth control, my crazy pills, and the antibiotics, as well as the more elective drugs such as the muscle relaxers for my neck. I'm really worried about going cold turkey off the Lexapro for two days, but I have skipped one day before without any noticeable effects. I'm not too concerned about missing a couple of days of birth control since I'm minus The Husband while I'm out of town. And, as long as a super-bug doesn't overcome my immune system before Wednesday, I should be OK without the antibiotics.

Mostly, I'm really annoyed at this pattern of stupidity. Up until recently I have been able to do laundry and pack my own luggage with a nearly 100% rate of success. It's like my brain went on vacation and didn't invite me. Am I getting old? Am I over medicated? Is all that tequila finally catching up with me? I'm not sure I really want to know.

Breaking News!

In a startling development, it turns out I was sick. Huh. Who knew?

Evidently I was willing to endure weeks of digestive issues and snurfy sinuses, but once I became pathetic enough to ask members of my staff to feel me and tell me if I felt hot, I realized I really needed to go to the doctor.

The physician's assistant (who doesn't think I'm crazy) was able to see me within hours of my pitiful phone call and quickly diagnosed me with strep. She shot my butt full of penicillin and sent me on my way with a prescription for additional antibiotics.

Antibiotics are great over the long term, but when you're lying on the couch shivering and aching and burning up with fever, ibuprofen is magic. Cram enough of that down your gullet and you'll be watching Battlestar Galactica and yelling at the TV in 45 minutes flat.

Anyway, I'm in Austin for a conference tomorrow, so more about that later.

Five Days

Evidently that's about how long I can live on ice water, Gatorade, and vegetable broth. I broke down last night and ate some pizza.

I know that wasn't the best choice of food after suffering gastrointestinally for several days. What I really wanted was rice - steamed white rice with soy sauce. But, The Husband suggested pizza, and I was so starving for the first time in days that I was willing to eat anything.

Over the weekend I had been experimentally nibbling on some crackers from time to time, but Sunday night I experienced a supremely embarrassing digestive incident, so I didn't take any chances with solid food all day Monday and Tuesday. By Tuesday night a couple of pieces of pizza sounded like ambrosia of the gods. I tried to take it easy, but the first two pieces didn't touch my hunger. I did manage to stop myself after the third.

Let me tell you, that ambrosia of the gods wasn't so heavenly the second time around. Around midnight, I thought I was going to die, and at that point, I probably wouldn't have minded a little death so much. I'm back on soup and clear liquids for the foreseeable future. I never ever want to feel that bad again.

The really weird thing is that I don't seem to be losing any weight. I'm not sure how much I weighed before my involuntary fast, but at least for the past few days, it's stayed exactly the same. Maybe I'm some kind of mutant, and scientists should study my genes. Maybe I could save famine victims around the world with my awesome power of Super Fatness!

Super Fatty mocks you Jenny Craig! You too, Dr. Atkins! Super Fatty's chubby butt needs no chocolate cake to maintain its amazing fatness. Super Fatty can turn the very air into cellulite!

Lucky me.

Am I Dead Yet?

The Husband and I have been living in the Duckling House of Consumption and Cholera for several days now. We both contracted minor colds in the past couple of weeks, but as is depressingly usual, mine turned into days of wheezing, coughing, snoring, and exhaustion. After about 24 hours of fitful, sweaty sleep, I crawled out of bed on Thursday evening finally feeling better.

That "feeling better" thing was terribly short lived, as I was stricken with some - let's just say, rather unpleasant - manner of gastrointestinal distress almost immediately upon consuming a small snack of cheese and crackers. Unfortunately, misery does love company, and The Husband began horking his guts out Friday night.

I've not eaten anything other than some soon to be regurgitated crackers since Thursday. The Husband seems to be tolerating solid food significantly more successfully. As long as I don't eat anything at all, I feel OK. How long do you think I can live on ice water, Gatorade, and vegetable broth?

So, What's Up With That Pain in Your Neck?

Thanks for asking.

According to the MRI report I have a minor bulge in the disk between my C5 and C6 vertebrae. It is not currently "wreaking havoc," which is a relief, I suppose, but somehow, that doesn't strike me as the proper technical medical terminology. Unfortunately, the orthopedist did not have the actual films to read, but I'm hoping that whoever wrote the report is trustworthy.

Evidently, this bulgy disk is causing cervical radiculopathy. I had to look that up to be sure that it wasn't some secret doctor-speak for "this patient has a ridiculous complaint" because when I heard it out loud, that's exactly what it sounded like to me.

I'll have to take plenty of pills, although none of the fun ones. Boo! Also, I have to subject myself to physical therapy a couple of times a week. The next step in the course of treatment is to receive some sort of "risky" neck injections, so I really want this drugs and therapy thing to work. The bad news is that these problems generally do progress, so someday (may it be many years from now) I probably will need surgery. In that case, I'm definitely insisting on the fun pills.

Pain in the Neck, Pt. 2

About a week ago my neck malfunctioned again, this time while I was picking up a piece of paper. Since this was the second time in a month, I decided to take it seriously and go to my doctor. I didn't get any fun medicine, but I did get a referral to an orthopedist.

While I was sitting in the exam room yesterday waiting for the appointment, I could hear someone in the next room crying, "Oh, oh, oh! No, stop! Please stop!" I considered leaving right then, but the doctor came in and started thumping me in various places with a rubber mallet and yanking my arms and manhandling my head. Fortunately, my injury is not so severe that I had to beg for mercy at any point.

Not finding anything obviously wrong with me, the doctor sent me to get an MRI today. That experience sucked 1000% more than I possibly could have predicted. The machine is extraordinarily loud, so they put foam plugs in my ears. As the foam expanded, all the sounds slowly faded away. Then they slid me into the tube - the nice, cozy, coffin-sized tube.

Immediately, I closed my eyes and tried to think spacious thoughts, but I started panicking. When they checked on me after the first minute, I told the Peter-Tork-looking technician that I was freaking out, so he advised me to imagine I was in a wide-open space, like the beach. Whatever. I could already tell that wasn't going to work, so I asked how long it would take. 20-25 minutes, he told me. Nearly half an hour without losing my mind and shrieking and flailing - I thought maybe I could do that.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not convince myself that I was in a wide-open space or any kind of space at all. Instead I pretended I was on a water slide. It was the only situation I could imagine where I would be happy to be stuck in a tube, and luckily it seemed to work, seeing as I'm not gibbering and drooling in an institution right now.

Not only was I fighting off buried-alive-in-a-coffin-type thoughts, but I also had to concentrate on staying perfectly still. Some of the images took 6 minutes to complete, and during that time I couldn't twitch, breathe too much, or even swallow. It's nearly impossible not to swallow while you're lying perfectly still on your back thinking desperately about not swallowing.

Finally they told me they were finished and would take me out. But then nothing happened for about 30 seconds. If it had taken 31 seconds I would have lost it. When the table didn't start moving right away, I was convinced that someone was wrong, and I was trapped. A full-scale panic was ratcheting up when they finally rescued me.

Of course, then my hospital gown came untied as I was leaving to retrieve my clothes, but at that point, I was more than happy to show them my ass, as long as it meant I was getting the hell out of there.

Pain in the Neck

Last Saturday, I gave myself whiplash while towel drying my hair. Previously, I have injured my neck during such strenuous activities as sleeping, walking, and driving a car. The pain always goes away by itself, although most days I have at least a minor crick in my neck. I've tried a new pillow and stretching exercises, but nothing has made any difference.

My neck still hurt pretty badly on Monday, and I didn't have anything interesting to do that day, so I decided to go to the urgent care clinic and have them take a look. I figured at the very least, I might get some good drugs out of them. My Vicodin stash from last year's ER visit was running low, so it was time to stock up. I'm not a drug abuser, but for some reason I am a habitual drug hoarder. Also, Vicodin is the very best hang-over cure ever.

After quite a wait, I finally got to see a doctor with a very handsome accent. I felt like a fraud complaining about neck pain and was sure I would quickly be identified as a pain-killer addict and kicked out on the street. But, the doctor took one look at my neck muscles and started making impressed noises about how swollen they were.

He said to me, "Tell me if this hurts," and suddenly everything went black and stars starting bursting out of my eye sockets. Evidently he was able to determine the most jab-worthy spot on sight. "Yeah, that hurt," I told him.

To be on the safe side, he sent me down the hall for X-rays. Two rather bumbling techs fiddled with gadgets and argued about the best angle from which to shoot me with radiation for what seemed like forever. Finally, they concluded that my neck was not broken, although my spine was rather bendier than it should have been. Overly-bendy as in, I have scoliosis.

They put me back in the exam room, and the doctor came in with prescriptions for Vicodin and muscle relaxers (score!). "Do you have any questions?" he asked. So I brought up the whole, Surprise! You have scoliosis! thing. The exasperated look on his face made it abundantly clear that bumbling X-ray techs are not qualified to diagnose me with scoliosis and they really shouldn't have brought it up.

The radiologist was supposed to have reviewed my films and called me by now. I also left a message at the clinic this morning, which no one has returned. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or no sign at all. I actually hope I do have some spinal issue that's causing my achy neck. At least then I would have a specific problem to work on fixing. In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to follow doctor's orders and pop a bunch of pills. Oh, well.

I Nearly Had My Big Break

My fifteen minutes of fame will have to wait. All week a local television news reporter has been scheduling and rescheduling an interview with me about one of the programs at the nonprofit where I work. It was finally set for this afternoon, but about twenty minutes before our meeting, she canceled. The story will still be on the news, which will be good publicity for our agency, but they decided to just interview one of our clients and not me.

I'm mostly relieved, but a little disappointed, too. The idea of being on TV gave me a stomach ache and sweaty palms, but I thought it also might be a fun experience.

After my confrontation with serious anxiety, this is how I know I'm back to my normal self. Even if something makes me half sick with nerves, I still feel like I'm up to the challenge. There's a misconception out there that anti-depressant/anxiety medication dulls people's real emotions, turning them into mindless, grinning zombies. But, I'm finding that I feel like myself again. The prospect of a news interview still made me nervous enough to be nauseous, but I could overcome it.

Several months ago, I would have called in sick everyday until the news reporter quit calling me because I would have been literally incapable of facing the physically gripping terror that kind of stress would cause. Sometimes I think it's worth it to feel really bad for a while, so I can remember to appreciate it when I feel good again.

Misdiagnosed

After my doctor appointment earlier this week, I'm pretty sure "HYPOCHONDRIAC" is scrawled all over my medical records because of this one physician's assistant who thinks I'm crazy. Let's call her Physician's Assistant Who Thinks I'm Crazy, or PAWTIC for short.

I've been seeing this doctor for several years now, mostly for my yearly check-up, but from time to time I get sick and she fixes me up. I've had bronchitis and a bladder infection and a few other minor things over the years. Generally I go to the office, the doctor tells me what's wrong, and she writes a prescription for whatever will solve my problem.

Except, when I'm unfortunate enough to get an appointment with PAWTIC. No matter how bad I feel and how many tests she runs, there's never anything wrong with me according to her.

The first time, I didn't think too much about it. I was complaining of a sharp stomach pain that would come and go. I had already been diagnosed with irritable bowel, but this hurt worse than usual, so I didn't want to ignore it and end up dying of an aneurysm even though I was pretty sure they would tell me it was nothing to worry about and send me on my way. However, after poking my guts and asking me some questions, PAWTIC decided to send me for a CT scan. Of course the results were fine, but that just verified what I had assumed all along.

Maybe a year or so later, I started having shortness of breath. My childhood asthma flairs up sometimes when my allergies get bad, so I made an appointment for a breathing treatment. But, after the treatment I still had trouble breathing, and I started freaking out a little bit. PAWTIC measured my oxygen levels and air flow and told me I was breathing plenty, so there was nothing she could do for me. This is when I started to notice a skeptical look passing over her face, and I thought it looked familiar from the time she told me my CT scan was clear.

Looking back, maybe I was a little crazy and suffering from not-yet-diagnosed anxiety which was causing my chest to feel tight. However, instead of telling me I wasn't having trouble breathing despite my insistence otherwise, PAWTIC could have - I don't know - tried to figure out what my problem was. But I'm not bitter.

I didn't see her again for a few years since I was staying basically healthy and she went away to have a baby - that is until earlier this week. I made an appointment because I was feeling a little "feminine discomfort" (and yes, that is as specific as I'll get). The doctor wasn't available on short notice, so I got stuck with PAWTIC. She prodded and jabbed my nether regions and proclaimed I was perfectly fine with an unspoken "except that you're a pathetic attention seeker" in her voice. Of course I didn't want something to be wrong with me, but just once I'd like her to have to admit I have a legitimate medical complaint.

I'm thinking about giving myself food poisoning just so I can show up and puke on her.

Whoops

There's Plenty of Room for Improvement

But still, holy crap! I just "ran" half a mile.

Granted, it was v…e…r…y s…l…o…w…l…y. It took me 8 minutes, which puts my pace somewhat less than 4 mph - slower than many people walk. But I kept telling myself that slow was better than not at all.

Of course there had to be an extremely fit shirtless guy practicing wind sprints on the same block I was huffing and puffing my way down. I kept focused on fighting osteoporosis and cardiovascular disease and managed not to die of embarrassment. Hopefully if I stick with this I'll also manage not to die of lots of other things, too.

Taking Care

Now that my mental health is back up to par, I’m realizing how badly I’ve neglected my physical health. For the past five months I have shunned exercise and embraced any type of food-stuff that’s fried, cheesy, or chocolate-flavored. If I continue like this I’ll have to start washing myself with a rag on a stick before next summer.

As much as I hate the idea of being fat, I worry more about diabetes, osteoporosis, cancer, and stroke. I’m also tired of being tired. I really want to feel stronger and more energetic. So, while it would be awesome if a better focus on fitness and nutrition suddenly qualifies me to be a Victoria’s Secret model, I really just want to be healthy.

I know what works. A few years ago, I made a very reasonable plan for myself - limit sweets, full-fat cheese and dressing, and fried foods and exercise most days of the week for 30 minutes or longer. I definitely felt better, but I put too much emphasis on how much I weighed. Every time I stepped on the scale and didn't see any weight loss, my day was ruined. It actually made me cry.

Over the course of about three months I lost ten pounds. But it wasn't happening fast enough, so I got frustrated and discouraged and quit trying altogether. If I couldn't be skinny right NOW it didn't seem worth the effort. Of course I've gained back those ten pounds and ten more.

It won't do me any good to focus on that, however. I'm making this about taking care of myself. I assume I'll drop a size or two in the process, but if not I promise not to punish myself for it. What I hope to achieve is to enjoy my body. To be able to hike and ride my bike and feel good doing it.

To reward myself for the effort, my plan is to treat myself to a day at a water park next summer. I love swimming and playing in the water, but right now, wearing a bathing suit all day would be too physically and emotionally uncomfortable to bear. However, even if I do have jiggly thighs next summer, which I assume I will, I will be confident that my body is healthy and strong and I deserve to have fun in it.

I'm sure there will be times over the next year when I'll get lazy or stressed out and will put off exercising or eat too much cake, but the point will be to get back on track with the intention of taking good care of myself for a lifetime, not to punish myself with neglect and contempt.

Leaning Left

In this rare case I don't mean politically.

I worked hard to fight off a cold all last week, telling myself I just had to stay well through my birthday/house-awesoming party on Saturday night. I guess my brain came to some compromise with my germs because they patiently waited until Sunday evening to attack.

Saturday night was cool and very low key, and despite staying up until about 3:30 a.m., I woke up at a decent time on Sunday morning in a great mood. The Husband and I had a very enjoyable day together. I discovered cheese blintzes with blueberries and sour cream at Cyndi's N.Y. Delicatessen. So Good! We browsed at Half-Price Books, and I bought almost nothing I intended to, but still managed to walk out with an arm-full.

That evening we went for dinner at Shuck'n Jive, an oyster bar, which had inconveniently run out of oysters. The sore throat that had been plaguing me for a week began to reassert itself, and I can now recommend a spicy bloody Mary as an effective sore throat remedy.

However, the relief was short lived, and I spent the next two days snuffling and coughing while I wasted my Fourth of July vacation lying in bed, floating in a Sudafed and Benadryl induced haze. Well, I didn't waste the whole vacation. I roused myself on Monday night long enough for fondue and birthday prezzies courtesy of The Husband.

Today I woke up feeling much better after a good night's sleep, but on getting out of bed I nearly careened into the wall. The whole world seems slightly tilted to the left. It's not too bad overall because I mostly feel better, and the disorientation has me feeling slightly giddy. I'm hoping that one of my ears is just stuffed up and I don't have an inner-ear infection or something equally unpleasant. In the meantime, I'll just lurch around and do my best not to bounce off things.

Catching Up: Mental Health Edition

Before my brief blog hiatus last month, I was "quacking" up. Heh heh. See, how I call myself the "Unruly Duckling" and then I made a quack-related joke. Funny, right? Maybe those meds aren't quite doing the trick. Anyway.

So, there I was suffering from an anxiety disorder, starting medication and therapy with much optimism. And, despite a slightly rocky start I have to say that I'm as mentally well as I can probably expect to get.

A couple of days after I began taking Lexapro, I thought I was going to have a full-on, raving-lunatic breakdown. Coming back from a off-site meeting to my office I suddenly became completely overwhelmed. I ended up sitting in my car, trying desperately to summon the will to go upstairs, gasping and sobbing while it felt like my skin my going to crawl off my body. The only reason I was able to pull myself together was that the idea of having to explain to my boss that I couldn't come back to work because I was in the parking garage going crazy was worse than actually making it into the office.

Once I collected myself well enough to go to work and act normal, the rest of the afternoon wasn't that bad, especially since a meeting I'd been seriously dreading (for no good reason) was postponed at the last minute. This meeting - a monthly staff meeting we'd been having for at least a year - had already been postponed once because I called in sick the first time it was scheduled. That was when I first knew I had to get some help.

Despite the fact that I was able to suck up the crazy long enough to get through the day, I was rather concerned to find out whether this was part of the natural progression of crazy and it would go away once the meds kicked in or if the meds were driving me more crazy.

Once I got home I dug out the literature that came from the pharmacy when I picked up the prescription to see what it could tell me. I probably should have done this before I started popping the pills, but I was pretty desperate at the time.

Coincidentally, the doctor also discovered a minor bladder infection when I was in for my physical, so she prescribed the antibiotic Cipro for me. I hadn't given much thought to the antibiotics with everything else that was going on, but I glanced at the brochure to see if maybe I could discover something awesome about its anthrax-fighting powers or otherwise nifty. This is what I actually discovered:

ADVERSE REACTIONS:

* Nausea (5.2%),
* Diarrhea (2.3%),
* vomiting (2%),
* abdominal pain/discomfort(1.7%),
* headache(1.2%),
* restlessness(1.1%), and
* rash (1.1%).

The following were reported as less than one percent:

* CARDIOVASCULAR: Palpatation (feeling your heart beat), heart flutter, fainting, angina, heart attack, cardiopulmonary arrest, blood clot to the brain.
* CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM: Nervousness, dizziness, headache, lightheadedness, insomnia, nightmares, hallucinations, manic attack, tremors, irritability, seizures, lethargy, drowsiness, weakness, no appetite, depression, numbness, depersonalization, ataxia ( lack of muscle coordination), agitation, confusion, delirium, toxic psychosis, muscle twitching, involuntary eye movements.
* GASTROINTESTINAL: painful oral mucosa, thrush(oral fungal infection),intestinal perforation, G.I. bleeding, jaundice, difficulty swallowing, constipation, intestinal gas, swelling of the pancreas.
* MUSCULOSKELETAL: joint stiffness, back pain, neck or chest pain, gout flare-up.
* KIDNEY/URINARY: Kidney failure, urinary retention, urethral bleeding, acidosis, nephritis (inflammation of the kidneys), increased urinary output, kidney stones.
* RESPIRATORY: difficult breathing, throat or lung swelling (edema), hiccoughs, bronchial spasm, blood clot in the lung, nosebleed.
* SKIN HYPERSENSITIVITY: itching, rash, sensitivity to sunlight, flushing, chills, swelling of the blood vessels or lymph system, swelling of the face, lips, neck, eyes, or hands. Cuticle candidiasis (yeast) and hyperpigmentation.
* SPECIAL SENSES: Blurred or disturbed vision, sensitivity to light, seeing double, eye pain, ringing in the ears, hearing loss, bad taste in mouth.
* MISCELLANEOUS: Elevation of triglycerides and cholesterol. Blood and albumin in the urine, elevated serum potassium, glucose, and albumin. Anemia and agranulo-cytosis (potentially fatal condition where the white blood cell count goes extremely low).

Did you notice that bold part? Nervousness, insomnia, dizziness, agitation, delirium, toxic psychosis? They may be rare side effects, but that risk isn't exactly what I needed while struggling with a mental illness. Not only that, but I wasn't supposed to have any caffeine while taking Cipro because it magnifies the effect. Again, not helpful for an anxiety patient. I had sucked down several cups of coffee during that boring meeting the morning before I nearly flipped my wig.

I figured out that it was the Cipro driving me nuts (nuttier, I guess), but I stuck with it as long as I could in the fear of spawning a super-bug with my improper antibiotic usage. The very day I was done with the stuff, I started to feel better. After all I'd been through, bladder infection treatment nearly sent me over the edge.

Moral of the story: Ask your doctor point-blank about side effects, and read the stuff the pharmacy gives you before cramming any drugs down your desperate maw.

Unhinged Duckling

Well it's official. I've gone a little nuts. As in "on meds" nuts.

Professionals don't call it "nuts" of course. I'm experiencing an anxiety disorder.

I guess it was earlier this year when I first started to notice that my brain was going a bit wiggy. Normal, innocuous things would give me a momentary panic. For example, my "you have a new email" message would pop up while I was working, and I'd get a surge of adrenaline as if someone had jumped out at me with a knife. But, I wouldn't actually feel emotionally frightened. I would wonder, "WTF, body? Calm down. It's just an email." Over time, these strange startles would happen more often, and it would take longer and longer for me to calm back down.

In the last couple of months I started waking up early in the morning, an hour or two before my alarm would go off. While I was lying there, trying to go back to sleep, random thoughts would occur to me, such as, "I should probably water the plants today." And that would be all it would take to panic me. I would get a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, and my heart would start to beat faster, as if I just realized that my neglect of watering the plants would have terrible consequences. Every little thought that popped in my head would cause this reaction until it felt like being shocked over and over by electricity. My arms and legs would be tingling with adrenaline by the point it was time to get out of bed.

In more recent weeks, I have been walking around with an almost constant sense of worry and dread. The simplest tasks at work seemed completely daunting, so I started avoiding them. I was taking random sick days and spending too much time surfing the internet instead of facing what needed to be done. Of course, that just made me fall farther behind and heightened my stress. All I wanted to do was hide. I was starting to lose my ability to function.

My regular yearly check up was last week, and I discovered I have one of the best doctors in the world. I'm swathed in a paper gown, and she comes in and asks how I've been doing. I told her, "...well, I've been better." I was so reluctant to bring up this big issue about how I'm crazy and all when I was just supposed to be having a check up, but she sat right down in a chair across from me and said, "Let's talk." Relief just washed over me as I finally said out loud what a hard time I'd been having, and she told me how common this issue is and that she could definitely help me feel better.

So, hopefully some drugs and a shrink will do the trick and I can go back to feeling like a normal person again instead of a paranoid tweeked-out spaz.

Things I Secretly Think Will Kill Me

1. Ovarian Cancer - I'm pretty sure that the whole Irritable Bowel Syndrome thing - the bloating and the pain and what-not - is actually a fatal case of ovarian cancer. I expect to find out when it's too late and to die a particularly dramatic and touching death.

2. Abdominal Aneurysm - If it's not ovarian cancer, it must be an aneurysm. In which case, it will burst suddenly, killing me without warning. Everyone will be left shaking their heads, muttering, "What a waste. She died so young and beautiful."

3. Bird Flu - I have crap lungs. One of them spontaneously collapsed recently. If a deadly respiratory disease sweeps the globe, I will definitely be one of the first to go.

4. Brain Tumor - One time, I think it was in Reader's Digest, this guy wrote about how the first symptom of his brain tumor was how when he scratched the back of head it sounded like scratching an empty cardboard box. I totally have that, right behind my right ear. Again, I won't be diagnosed until it's too late and I'll linger heroically for some certain amount of time until I succumb in a heart-breaking fashion.

5. Horrible, Mangling Car Accident - This is the one that I really believe is going to kill me. I guess maybe this is why I have so much respect for the admittedly inconvenient tendency of The Husband to refuse to get a driver's license.

6. Also, diabetes. Not very dramatic, but it gives me the motivation I need not to spoon powdered sugar directly into my mouth 24 hours a day.

7. Strangely enough, NOT cirrhosis of the liver, despite the fact that I'm drunk right now.

On Being a Tortoise

New Year’s resolutions have never been my strong suit. I actually made my last resolution in July, which was to eat infinite vegetables every day. If I aimed for infinity, I might actually eat 5 or 6 servings, right? That strategy worked pretty well for about a month, as do most of my self-improvement schemes.

Despite being weak on the resolution front, I’m all for vague good intentions. My most recent vague good intention is to try to be in better shape. Not to do anything specific, mind you, just to try to be somewhat better.

Well, even though every time the subject of running comes up I say that I hate running and I’m not a runner, I secretly wish I could run and run and run. It sounds freeing and exhilarating. At one point ten years ago I could sort of run, but I don’t remember enjoying it. I set a goal to run 5K. I did, and then immediately quit. When I think of running now, I think of feeling fast and strong, not in terms of time and distance.

A couple of times recently, with vague good intentions, I decided I would learn to run. I would start out running about a minute at a time, figuring I would work up from there and the whole process would be easy and painless. But, after 30 seconds my lungs would be burning and my legs cramping, and I would be hating the whole thing.

But then, I stumbled across some website (which I am kicking myself for not book marking) explaining how even the laziest of lazy-butts could learn to run by going v…e…r…y s…l…o…w…l…y. She said to go so slowly you would be embarrassed if anyone you knew saw you. This floated around in my brain for a while, sounding like a better and better idea until the other night I tried it.

I ran farther and longer than I have in ten years. And! It felt good.

You may be skeptical that running so slowly would have any benefit, but it was definitely a better workout than walking. I got out of breath, but not in an imminently fatal way, and my quads were sore the next day, but not excruciating.

This may be boring for a lot of people to read, but I am just bubbling with excitement. The fact that my pudgy little round body actually RAN anywhere has me grinning and surprised. I’m actually looking forward to trying it again!

On a side note, this whole “try to be in better shape” thing came to fruition when I realized I had gained several pounds over the Christmas holiday, mostly due to the efforts of my coworkers. Every day for a week people were supplying all manner of candies and baked goods. I do not understand this urge to spontaneously make food to offer to people who didn’t ask for it. My coworkers are wonderful folks, but I wouldn’t dirty the kitchen for them unless I had to.

Public Service Announcement

Please, please, please make sure you have health insurance.

The bills from my adventures in pulmonary disease are starting to come in. My four-hour visit to the emergency room cost $5,800. Essentially, I had an EKG, a CT scan, some drugs, and then I was sent home. I didn't receive any treatment, and I wasn't admitted, and if I didn't have health insurance I would owe the hospital $5,800 right now.

A few years ago, I found myself uninsured after the company I was working for went bankrupt. While looking for new employment, I got a temp job at Children's Medical Center in the internal audit department, and I regularly saw hospital bills in the six figure range. I immediately started shopping for health insurance and was able to find a policy for a little more than $100 a month. It didn't cover routine doctor visits or some pre-existing conditions, but if I were badly injured or seriously ill, I knew I could cover the deductible and avoid going bankrupt myself.

Another important action to take is to know what your deductibles and out-of-pocket limits are on all your insurance policies (not just health insurance) and be sure you have a plan to cover those amounts if you need to. If you don't have any savings and you're barely making ends meet, it can be just as impossible to come up with $1,000 as a million. In fact, one of the most common reasons for middle class people to declare bankruptcy is medical bills, and most of those people had health insurance when they got sick. (See this article for example.)

At this point, this post could easily veer into a long rant into what's wrong with this whole country. But, I'm just writing this to urge you to be aware and do what you can to take care of yourselves. If you are reading this, I probably really like you and don't want anything bad to happen to you.