Take Me Out to the “Bowel” Game

Ah, tummy troubles.  I’ve written here before on this subject, about the nausea and vomiting, (and, oh, the stains), and the (gulp) gut issues (see # 2 here) associated with my lupus bowel vasculitis.  These particular symptoms are a drag to say the least.  But the match lupus played with team GI last night was a whole new ball-game.  The lupus players were burly and dishonest and really very angry…and that umpire was lettin’ ’em get away with moida‘!

Due to some naughty nausea, I had yesterday eaten nothing before our late evening dinner.  Dinner was simple – grilled chicken, wild rice, a nice salad – and, although I was ravenous, I ate very little.  I play by the rules.  And everything seemed fine when we trundled off to bed, set the alarm and snuggled on in.  I felt a bit bloated, but managed to take the lead in light sleep fairly quickly.  Until a searing pain in my abdomen woke me.

I’ve NEVER had pain like this before.  It was churning, intense, and very sudden, nothing like any previous lupus-related symptoms, or even past bouts with severe food poisoning.  I desperately wanted to, ahem, void, regardless of the end of the alimentary tract utilized in that act, and surely felt that I needed to – but I could not.  For 5+ hours I alternately balled in the fetal position and stretched out flat on our creaky old recliner, sweating like the stuck pig I felt.  There was no relief.  This was most definitely a foul of the lousiest kind.

Mr. H snored and flopped about on a bed much more free in my absence through it all.  When his alarm sounded, he wandered blearily out to the living room, took one look at me and gasped, “What’s wrong?!” I mumbled something unintelligible, which, either by virtue of being a doctor or my husband, he seemed to understand.  Before I knew it, he’d called a time out, carried me to the couch, knelt before me and, after a quick (and painful) exam (I exhibited none of the signs of appendicitis, ectopic pregnancy, or other med emergencies; no “surgical abdomen” here, luckily), disappeared for a moment.  When he came back, he had a heat pack, which he placed just above my pelvis, and began to gently (read: distressingly) massage my belly.

I about went through the ceiling.

Mr. H calmly encouraged me to breathe deeply and began to reminisce about our recent vacation.  “Remember this?” he’d say, and tell me a story about his favorite adventure.  This went on for about a half hour.  I could feel that the fist squeezing my poor innards was slowly tiring.  The pain was not gone, but it was significantly decreased.  When I felt that the guilty parties were slowly leaving the field and that their disgruntled teammates had been sufficiently talked down for me to handle alone, I entreated Mr. H to go make ready for work and continued working my own fingers into my stomach, actually able to feel the knots of cramped tissue.  I must have fallen asleep because I just woke up, tucked in a warming blanket on the couch, next to a note from Mr. H telling me a) he’d called my rheumatologist for an appointment, b) to go to urgent care if I had increased symptoms, and c) to have a nice day.

A year ago, I would have been utterly embarrassed by this whole situation – needing someone to take care of me, make phone-calls for me, etc.  On some indignant level, it saddens me that lupus can so indispose me at times and destroy a little bit of my independent feel.  But, really, I’m just glad Mr. H was there to ref the game, and that he cared enough to do an excellent job.

____________________________________________________________
The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
.
Posted in "Tummy" Troubles, Disease Rant-About, Love and Marriage, Lupus and Marriage, Sharing, Snarkiness, Well Done | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Giant Piece of Cheesecake

I cannot stop smiling when I think on the vacation Mr. H and I had this past week – and the money we saved in being foxy shoppers for our hotel, entertainment, and dining choices!  In the few days we were abroad, we visited every impressive museum (and enjoyed every admission discount) we had hoped to, ate at every delectable restaurant (and redeemed every coupon) we had planned on, and  truly enjoyed coming home to our lovely hotel room (pricelined and prepayed into outrageous deal) at the tippy top of a historic, breathtaking behemoth.  We even managed a few spontaneous extras – like a half-price hair cut at a ritzy salon just down the street from our hotel (best haircut of my life – what bald spots, lupus?!), and an inexpensive membership deal at our favorite institute (pinky out, dear Mr. H, we are now of the superbly elite class).  Our time both out on the town and in with each other was nothing short of wonderful.

Add to it that Mr. H was beyond understanding concerning my physical limitations and that I have in my possession two fabulous pairs of practical shoes (classy, yet comfy is very hard to find, as many of you know, I’m sure), and our time classifies as perfection.  However, I was reminded quite sharply throughout our holiday that I do, indeed, still have SLE.  Lupus does not take vacations; neither, it seems, does Mr. H’s attention to mine.

After the grand drive (we discovered a pastoral shortcut to nip a bit of the traffic in the bud) to our grand destination, I had a grand case of stiff joints.  Mr. H desperately wanted to hit one of his favorite diners that evening.  But upon noticing my gimpy movements and repeated failures at stretching, he immediately suggested we redeem our room service coupon (and he pulled a surprise bottle of bubbly from his knapsack just to liven things up and sweeten the deal).  Walking that big beautiful city (because driving and parking are madness) in the following days was, after the first hour or so, very painful for me.  I did have great shoes but, when your joints swell, it doesn’t matter the quality of your footwear; there will be chaffing and blisters to augment your arthritic experience.  Yet, Mr. H had designed our on-foot excursions to a tee, even working in stores with seating where we might duck in and rest.  He also slowed his typically maniac pace, allowing me to set our strolling speed.  At museums, Mr. H would at times suddenly usher me to free seating for a short sit-down.  He later told me that every half hour he would begin searching for open benches (whilst I remained taken with the exhibits) and, on seeing one vacant, would enact Operation Prophylactic Rest.  Additionally, on a few occasions, my lupus morning nausea did call upon my intimate knowledge of the museum layout (I’d memorized restroom locations from maps provided online), and Mr. H followed and patiently waited for me outside the facilities, wondering when I emerged if he could take me home (my token response, no matter how long we’d been wandering the halls – “But we just got here!”).

After we’d had our fill of the day’s museum (at least 5 hours of rambling and reading and remarking), we’d sit for a few minutes, then begin the trek toward our intended place of lupping (lunch and supper together).  Brandishing whatever coupon we’d found, we’d start the meal slowly: coffee first, to tame my nausea, waiting to order until I felt this was a place and time I could eat (luckily, at only one such outing did I have to stick with bread and coffee or make a quick trip to the ladies room).  Mr. H never complained, even though he’s not wild about coffee and no matter how hungry he was (recall, I can’t eat breakfast, but his longing for three squares remains; during our trip he’d nibble for breakfast and wait patiently for late afternoon while his stomach cried for it’s normal noon repast).  After lupper, and once back at the hotel, I was always wiped out.  Mr. H would turn on afternoon television (blurgh, gulp, gaaah) and let me sleep for hours.  He’d wake me with just enough time to prepare for the show or the exhibition we had planned, and he’d massage my aching muscles and stroke my hair till I rolled over.  The very last night, sensing my exhaustion, he didn’t rouse me.  We missed the free evening exhibition we’d discovered through the hotel concierge – but waking up in the wee hours wrapped in my husband was the best exposition of human possibility I’d ever experienced.

So our little high-atus was a time of loving and learning.  I remembered that a day/night out with lupus is like a giant piece of rich, luscious cheesecake – you so want to eat it all but, halfway through, you’ve had all you can handle.  More importantly, I found that having the right fork and a little bit of patience makes the sweet things more flavorful, preserves the freshness.  I think I’ve got myself a pretty good fork.

____________________________________________________________
The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
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Posted in "Tummy" Troubles, A Good Day, Arthritis, Best-Laid-Plans, Coping, Holiday, Love and Marriage, Lupus and Marriage, Sharing, Story-Time, Well Done | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Whoops There, Dr. House. It WAS Lupus Tonight.

A rather splendid reader (thanks K.L.!) sent me this image, adapted from an offering of the folks at The Demotivational Posters Blog.  Despite the fact that I HATE House, M.D. (the TV persona and the show itself), and that I have not seen the famous episode wherein he utters, “It’s not lupus, it’s never lupus,” I did enjoy the poster.  Hope you enjoy it, too!

Image adapted from (and linked to) The Demotivational Poster Blog.

And before you ask, I also abhor Grey’s Anatomy, HawthoRNe, and Private Practice (didn’t even make it through one episode of that gem), and I haven’t seen Nurse Jackie.  Quite honestly, though, Mr. H and I don’t watch much television, having had neither time nor inclination during much of our life together, so never adopting the boob-tube habit.  (I didn’t even own a TV through college and while working my research jobs after graduation – I preferred to run or hike or bike or read or sleep or cook while cranking my music or podcasts/lectures in my free time.  Not until I started med school did I obtain a set; and then, what time?!)  However, there is a special spot in my no-soap-opera-sleeping-around-or-glamorizing-unprofessional-comportment-and-self-importance-or-unrealistic-health-drama-nonsense heart for Scrubs.  (Don’t tell Mr. H, or he’ll implement a Scrubs viewing marathon in the measly hour a day we have together this month!)

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The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
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Posted in Link Love, Snarkiness, Well Done | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

13th Annual LFA Lupus Advocacy Day

Today, 1 March 2011, marks the Lupus Foundation of America‘s (LFA) 13th Annual Lupus Advocacy Day.

Today I remember my journey to diagnosis, recall the effect this disease and it’s common  co-morbidities (Antiphospholipid Syndrome, Lupus Nephritis, Raynaud’s Disease, Migraine, Fibromyalgia) and uncommon associated syndromes (Common Variable Immunodeficiency) have had on every facet of my life.

Today I salute the other victims of this sometimes invisible illness, fighters all, and wish them each the very best.

Today I entreat those who have little experience with Lupus or other autoimmune disease (AI Dz) to learn more, and to gain an appreciation for the struggles, the limitations and the triumphs, of those who face it daily.

Visit the LFA’s site and the other resources provided on the For More Info on Lupus Page to educate yourself.  Thank you for taking the time to recognize the plight of those with AI Dz, for facing your challenges head-on, and for living with grace and strength the life you were given! All the best, a great Lupus Advocacy day, and an even better tomorrow to all of you!

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____________________________________________________________
The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
.
Posted in Lupus Awareness, Sharing, Well Done | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A High-atus

Today is the first day of a gorgeous, 9-day vacation for Mr. H and myself. No patients, calls, pages, notes, or work of any type for Mr. H. No doctors or PT appointments, no labs, no studying, no laundry (did the weeks yesterday), and no lonely days for me. Oh – and no writing or blogging (except for this last post*, of course). For four days we will be painting one of our favorite cities (thank you, dear Priceline, for the rock bottom prices), hitting the museums (lucky, a marvelous friend of ours works at two of the best institutions – free weekday pass and employee discount here we come!) and the shows, living what (wholesome – neither of us is the wild type) night life lupus allows (yay Yelp for the 50% off deals!). For the remaining five days, we’ll be enjoying our best haunts in our own city, including the warmth of our own home for streaming movies and music and sweet chats over steaming hot tea. I cannot wait to take in every second, high on life and my husband! And I do hope that you, too, will find reason to enjoy, to gratefully savor, the coming days in your own lives. Best to you, and see you in 9 days!

* Oh, but don’t fret!  I am ever formulating new posts in that little writing pocket in my head!  Tentatively planned for the week following our little hiatus: a thoughtful look at the effect of Mr. H’s rotation in Palliative Care, a “What’s in YOUR Bookshelf” post, a discussion of (hypothetical and personally feasible) future forays into fertility, and probably one or two posts about experiences from our little vacation.  See you then!

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The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
.
Posted in Friendship, Holiday, Love and Marriage | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Disease Subscriptions: The Spiritual and the Scientific

Glimpse of a highly simplified equation for disease X etiology

In two of my recent posts (The Logical Shame, The Righteous Anger, and The Good Doctor), I hinted at my beliefs about meaning and disease development.  The question is ageless, and variously answered at different times in history and among different cultures – Why do some people become so very ill, while others enjoy good health? The query is both fascinating and dangerous.  I’d like now to flesh out, or rather, to clarify, my stance on this antiquated inquiry.

To what I DO NOT subscribe

1) Karma and/or Divine Punishment.

As I wrote in a recent comment, I believe in “karma” so far as it relates to the natural consequences of one’s choices and actions. If one smokes, one is at a high risk for lung cancer. If one drinks, whether he is an angry drunk who beats his wife or a delightful drunk who tells fun stories, he is at risk for hepatic cirrhosis. If one is a glutton and quite sedentary, one is at risk for type II diabetes mellitus and sundry cardiovascular disease. If one is caustic socially, one is at risk for loneliness and all manner of social and personal consequence. And, if one exhibits poor professional comportment, one is at risk for demotion and reassignment. However, I do not favor broad application of the phrase “what comes around goes around,” or ” you reap what you sow.”  Individuals who develop diseases based in genetic and unavoidable environmental factors do not in illness suffer for previous or current moral wrongdoing.  I do not subscribe to the belief that such disease (or natural disaster, or true accident) is a punishment dealt by the balance of a measured world.

Similarly, as regards “Divine Punishment,” apply the thoughts I expressed on “Karma.” Concerning consequences of lifestyle choices, I understand if you abuse something or someone, it may eventually fail or come back to flail you.  But I don’t believe that everyone (heck, anyone) who develops a disease brought on by uncontrollable factors must be some terrible or chronic “sinner.”  The etiology of illness unrelated to identifiable lifestyle choices or habits does not lay in some brand of moral stain.  We are all of us corrupt; that Providence would deign to punish one type of “sin” or one specific “sinner” and ignore another, or stoop to honor the personal, vengeful desires of the particularly faithful by inflicting arbitrary disease, is beyond my comprehension.  I do not subscribe to the belief that disease (or disaster, or accident) is a punishment dealt by a just or wickedly wise deity.

But, you say, I knew a bad person who a bad thing happened to, or who got a bad disease.

Apologies.  And eureka.  I am a scientist.  I don’t do anecdotal.  And the plural of anecdotal is NOT data.  You show me a giant chart review comparing carefully selected social criteria to well chosen disease and mortality measures – NO – you show me a meta-analysis, a Cochrane Review, of a large number of such studies, show me not just significant, but AMAZING odds/hazard ratios or relative risks to correlate poor (or high) morality unrelated to poor (or good) lifestyle habits with disease (or health) – and you show me all the biostats to rule out confounders, avoid bias, analyze all possible variables and effect modifiers – and then I’ll consider adopting it as theory.

2) Divine Design.

Yes, I am a religious person, and, no, I’m not going to broach the subject of the union or non-union of the scientific and the spiritual.  And, no, what I believe on the topics of evolution and angels and near-death experiences and prayer and faith-healing and divine intervention and signs is not at issue here, either.  And, no, I’ve no scientific proof of anything I’m about to say.

I don’t think that God, (or god(s) or forces of nature, as you like) sits about with two decks of cards – one being cards displaying living or to-be living persons, the other a set indicating different diseases in numbers keeping with the prevalence or incidence of that malady – making thoughtful pairings between members of those two decks.  I don’t believe God thinks at all about who would “be strong enough to bear such a burden” or who would (shudder) “benefit by disease,” choosing “capable” or “deserving” victims accordingly. I’m a “He got the ball rolling, and now He’s just standing by watching it play out” kinda gal.  I do believe He is omniscient and omnipotent and omnipresent and all that jazz, but I don’t think He’s sitting here now tweaking my ANAs or poking my kidneys or diddling about with ideas in my brain.  I think He hears my prayers and He sends me strength and balance and such, but I don’t see that He is minutely involved in my everyday experience, or the detailed planning of my whole lifespan.  Again, that’s just me.  Free will and all.  Got no evidence.  But got plenty a’ spit.

3) SLE, CVID, and APS.

I made no charitable contribution to these particular entities, enjoyed no subsequent tax deduction for my generosity.  I have no idea who sold me out so that my name does appear on their lists.  Indeed, if I had known I was a candidate for their solicitations, I would surely  have sprung to the Better Business Bureau for help, or paid them off.  And yet, they send me their newsletter – their symptoms, their complications, their damage.  How do I write in and end this blasted annoying subscription!?

 

To What I DO Subscribe

Genetics + Environment + Lifestyle = Disease.

The etiology of many diseases has been at least partially uncovered – faulty genes, mutation, combinations of contributory alleles, infections, toxic exposures, damage, bad habits, etc.  But for the many illnesses that still allude science in these (and other) respects, although we know they are the product of genetic and environmental factors, and may have discovered some of the contributory factors, avoidance of disease development is currently beyond our grasp.  In short, disease is a complex combination of genetic predisposition and environmental triggers (some known, some as yet undescribed), an accident of birth and circumstance, neither inflicted nor planned. Here I stand amongst millions of scientists and physicians, having not only learned and read the scientific literature, but having participated in colleagues’ and performed my own basic research and seen the strong basis of this theory.

 

So, where does this leave me and the stacks of others who’ve been victims of chance and circumstance?  Well, a bit unlucky, I’d say.  A little bummed, I’d wager.  Perhaps feeling angry, and empty.  Most of us have probably entertained or still receive some guilt in their innermost parlours.  But we are NOT GUILTY.  And, certainly, never should we subscribe to any theory which bids us pass judgment on those who Misfortune, in her vast and winding and unscheduled, blank-itineray journey, has visited.

____________________________________________________________
The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
.
Glimpse of a Highly Simplified Equation for Disease X Etiology

In two of my recent posts (The Logical Shame, The Righteous Anger, and The Good Doctor), I hinted at my beliefs about meaning and disease development.  The question is ageless, and variously answered at different times in history and among different cultures – Why do some people become so very ill, while others enjoy good health? The query is both fascinating and dangerous.  I’d like now to flesh out, or rather, to clarify, my stance on this antiquated inquiry.

To what I DO NOT subscribe

 

1) Karma and/or Divine Punishment.

 

As I wrote in a recent comment, I believe in “karma” so far as it relates to the natural consequences of one’s choices and actions. If one smokes, one is at a high risk for lung cancer. If one drinks, whether he is an angry drunk who beats his wife or a delightful drunk who tells fun stories, he is at risk for hepatic cirrhosis. If one is a glutton and quite sedentary, one is at risk for type II diabetes mellitus and sundry cardiovascular disease. If one is caustic socially, one is at risk for loneliness and all manner of social and personal consequence. And, if one exhibits poor professional comportment, one is at risk for demotion and reassignment. However, I do not favor broad application of the phrase “what comes around goes around,” or ” you reap what you sow.”  Individuals who develop diseases based in genetic and unavoidable environmental factors do not in illness suffer for previous or current moral wrongdoing.  I do not subscribe to the belief that such disease (or natural disaster, or true accident) is a punishment dealt by the balance of a measured world.

 

Similarly, as regards “Divine Punishment,” apply the thoughts I expressed on “Karma.” Concerning consequences of lifestyle choices, I understand if you abuse something or someone, it may eventually fail or come back to flail you.  But I don’t believe that everyone (heck, anyone) who develops a disease brought on by uncontrollable factors must be some terrible or chronic “sinner.”  The etiology of illness unrelated to identifiable lifestyle choices or habits does not lay in some brand of moral stain.  We are all of us corrupt; that Providence would deign to punish one type of “sin” or one specific “sinner” and ignore another, or stoop to honor the personal, vengeful desires of the particularly faithful by inflicting arbitrary disease, is beyond my comprehension.  I do not subscribe to the belief that disease (or disaster, or accident) is a punishment dealt by a just or wickedly wise deity.

But, you say, I knew a bad person who a bad thing happened to, or who got a bad disease.

 

Apologies.  And eureka.  I am a scientist.  I don’t do anecdotal.  And the plural of anecdotal is NOT data.  You show me a giant chart review comparing carefully selected social criteria to well chosen disease and mortality measures – NO – you show me a meta-analysis, a Cochrane Review, of a large number of such studies, show me not just significant, but AMAZING odds/hazard ratios or relative risks to correlate poor morality unrelated to poor lifestyle habits with disease (and you show me all the biostats to rule out confounders, avoid bias, analyze all possible variables and effect modifiers) and then I’ll consider adopting it as theory.

 

2) Divine Design.

 

Yes, I am a religious person, and, no, I’m not going to broach the subject of the union or non-union of the scientific and the spiritual.  And, no, what I believe on the topics of evolution and angels and near-death experiences and prayer and faith-healing and divine intervention and signs is not at issue here, either.  And, no, I’ve no scientific proof of anything I’m about to say.

I don’t think that God, (or god(s) or forces of nature, as you like) sits about with two decks of cards – one being cards displaying living or to-be living persons, the other a set indicating different diseases in numbers keeping with the prevalence or incidence of that malady – making thoughtful pairings between members of those two decks.  I don’t believe God thinks at all about who would “be strong enough to bear such a burden” or who would (shudder) “benefit by disease,” choosing “capable” or “deserving” victims accordingly. I’m a “He got the ball rolling, and now He’s just standing by watching it play out” kinda gal.  I do believe He is omniscient and omnipotent and omnipresent and all that jazz, but I don’t think He’s sitting here now tweaking my ANAs or poking my kidneys or diddling about with ideas in my brain.  I think He hears my prayers and He sends me strength and balance and such, but I don’t see that He is minutely involved in my everyday experience, or the detailed planning of my whole lifespan.  Again, that’s just me.  Free will and all.  Got no evidence.  But got plenty a’ spit.

3) SLE, CVID, and APS.

 

I made no charitable contribution to these particular entities, enjoyed no subsequent tax deduction for my generosity.  I have no idea who sold me out so that my name does appear on their lists.  Indeed, if I had known I was a candidate for their solicitations, I would surely  have sprung to the Better Business Bureau for help, or paid them off.  And yet, they send me their newsletter – their symptoms, their complications, their damage.  How do I write in and end this blasted annoying subscription!?

 

 

To What I DO Subscribe

 

Genetics + Environment + Lifestyle = Disease.

 

The etiology of many diseases has been at least partially uncovered – faulty genes, mutation, combinations of contributory alleles, infections, toxic exposures, damage, bad habits, etc.  But for the many illnesses that still allude science in these (and other) respects, although we know they are the product of genetic and environmental factors, and may have discovered some of the contributory factors, avoidance of disease development is currently beyond our grasp.  In short, disease is a complex combination of genetic predisposition and environmental triggers (some known, some as yet undescribed), an accident of birth and circumstance, neither inflicted nor planned. Here I stand amongst millions of scientists and physicians, having not only learned and read the scientific literature, but having participated in colleagues’ and performed my own basic research and seen the strong basis of this theory.

So, where does this leave me and the stacks of others who’ve been victims of chance and circumstance?  Well, a bit unlucky, I’d say.  A little bummed, I’d wager.  Perhaps feeling angry, and empty.  Most of us have probably entertained or still receive some guilt in their innermost parlours.  But we are NOT GUILTY.  And, certainly, never should we subscribe to any theory which bids us pass judgment on those who Misfortune, in her vast and winding and unscheduled, blank-itineray journey, has visited.
____________________________________________________________
The new edition of The Lupie Log Autoimmunity Collection is out!  You can view the Feb Installment, and learn more about the The Lupie Log Project at the provided links.  Thanks to all for sharing their insights!
Posted in Disease Rant-About, Faith, Snarkiness | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

2nd Edition of the Lupie Log, for Feb 2011

Welcome to the Lupie Log for February 2011!

Prompt Responses

This month, the prompt was as follows:  Autoimmune disease can mean a lot of time spent in the offices and exam rooms of those with letters behind their names. In addition to multiple medical or osteopathic doctors of different specialties, we may also work with other medical professionals, such as podiatrists, physical therapists, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, nutritionists, nurses, various technicians, and practitioners of alternative and complementary medicine. Our experiences are often as varied as the professionals we see. I wonder, what is the worst experience you’ve had with a doctor or other medical professional? What is the best?

In response, I received some very honest accounts of patient-professional interaction, from the maddening and darkly hilarious, to the wonderful and uplifting.  Read on to hear the voices of contributors and discover the qualities they admire, and those they would admonish, in their medical care-givers.

*  *  *  *

I have APS (antiphospholipid syndrome; diagnosed 1995), Systemic Lupus (1998), and Sjogren’s (2000).

My worst experience was with a triage nurse in a big ER out of town. I was having the same weakness and tingling on one side that I’d had before my two prior APS strokes. I kept trying to tell her I was having a stroke, I’d had them before, and I NEEDED to be seen. I was DESPERATE – I knew this happened before the stroke and wanted to get it taken care of fast! She just said, “I got you, ma’am, go sit down now,” or “You’ll just have to wait your turn,” each of the 5 times I asked in the first hour. Once she actually pushed me down into a chair and told me to “hush up!” I sat for another hour and the weakness got worse. I decided to ask again and I couldn’t get up! I yelled, and she took one look at me (my face was paralyzed on the left) and put me through! I was shaking and crying and trying to say “Why didn’t you listen” but there was too much going on and my speech was pretty bad. I know it’s not often a skinny woman in her 30s comes in with a stroke and she probably thought I had some kind of anxiety disorder, but listen to me please!!!

The best experience was that same visit, probably because it was such an emotional day.  The ER resident was really on top of things.  She got me clot busted, scanned, and taken care of.  She explained everything that was happening to me, better than anyone with my previous strokes even!  She just kept telling me they would take care of me.  She even came to see me in the hospital to see how I was.  It really makes a difference when you can see that they care.

~Angie

*  *  *  *

The worst provider I had was an NP (nurse practitioner).  I told her about all the symptoms and she never even looked at me in the eye.  Then, she talked down to me.  She said nothing was wrong.  She told me I had an “abnormal reaction to stress” and that’s why I had pain and fatigue.  She told me “calm yourself down and it will get better.”  It didn’t get better.  I went to an MD and got diagnosed with lupus and RA (rheumatoid arthritis).  My best experience was with a podiatrist (foot/ankle/lower leg specialist).  When my arthritis got so I couldn’t cut my nails and pumice my heels he took good care of me and he was so nice about my ugly old tootsies!  He even cut my finger nails for me.  I told him he could be my honorary son any day!

~Anonymous

*  *  *  *

I have Lupus and MS (multiple sclerosis).  I can’t really point to one bad experience, but I’d say the worst thing in general is being in the hospital with new doctors.  I hate not seeing my own doctors.  I know they can’t be my personal hospitalists and they always consult with the hospital team and check on me – but dealing with a different team of doctors each time can be frustrating!

~Anonymous

*  *  *  *

I have lupus and APS (antiphospholipid syndrome).  I had a major stroke in 2007 at the age of 32.  In rehab I had this HORRIBLE therapist who really hurt me.  Seriously, she was like the mean coaches on “Biggest Loser.”  Sometimes she pushed me too hard, and she made me feel bad for being weak.  But there was this med student with her who’d hold my hand and she’d push me, but she’d say encouraging things.  She was the one who got me through that first tough month, and I was so sad when she moved on!  When she left, I immediately got a new therapist!  By the way – I regained almost normal function and LIFE IS GOOD!!!

~Encouraged!

*  *  *  *

I have lupus, APS (antiphospholipid syndrome), RA (rheumatoid arthritis), and Grave’s Disease.  (Doctors love to see me walk in).  I have been lucky – my experiences working with medical professionals haven’t been overly negative.  I do have a best though: my endocrinologist.  This doc is fabulous!  He remembers what we talk about and always asks about my family.  He even remembers my daughter’s name!  He respects my wishes (no surgery, no radioactive ablation, minimal drugs) and tailors his treatment plan to me.  He listens and he is gentle – I could not ask for a better person to manage my disease!

~ Grateful Grave-ser

*  *  *  *

My fiance was adamant I be seen at walk-in; I was caustically dismissive of the whole affair.  For days I’d been running a temperature, feeling always chilled and absolutely beat.  For days I’d had increasing, sharpening chest pain, experiencing uncomfortable palpitations and inexplicable migratory polyarthritis.  Finally, unable to deny these weren’t just products of stress or the latest bug-about-town, I agreed to make an appointment with my primary care physician.  For insurance purposes, I’d had to pick Dr. X from a list of providers – check a box next to a name among a handful of other faceless doctors accepting new patients – but I’d never actually seen her.  And, although I was a medical student, I hated going to the doctor.

I got in the next day.  Reluctantly did I leave class to keep my appointment.  A jolly nurse did my vitals and, shortly after I’d taken my seat, Dr. X came sweeping in.  I was shocked and dismayed to recognize her as one of the many clinicians who cycle through our exam-reasoning labs – she’d given my small-group pointers on the lung exam a few months before, helping us identify abnormal breath sounds in a sweet volunteer patient with COPD.  Great.  Examination by a professor in any venue other than educational was not something I desired.  But, I had no choice.  And she was an educator, so probably a great communicator, right?

Wrong.

Dr. X never even looked my way while I gave my chief complaint.  She stared at the computer screen, typing away as I provided my (brief and unremarkable) past medical history, my family history, and my social and lifestyle habits.  Only when she had done completing those parts of her note, filling the awkward silence with the sounds of her manicured nails smacking the computer keys, did she turn toward me.

“Gown up, please,” she said.

I did.  And she methodically examined me.  In total silence.

“You can dress now.”

I did.  When I sat down again, Dr. X sighed.  “Look, you’re in med school.  It’s a hard thing. You probably think you have some sort of heart problem – you are in the cardiovascular section now, are you not? – because you’ve been learning about it.  You do have a heart murmur, but it sounds benign.  It sounds like you also have PVCs (premature ventricular contractions), but those are also benign.  Your fever is probably due to a viral infection.  A couple of your joints are a little swollen, but you said you’d been running and had a fall on the ice a few days ago, and they’re consistent with that.  I’ll do some blood tests to rule out thyroid problems and we’ll do a basic panel, but everything seems to be fine.  And Headstrong, med school is only going to get harder.  I would caution you not to imagine that you have the symptoms and diseases you study.”

Waaaah?!

I didn’t know whether to feel angry or stupid.  Did she just brush me off, insulting me unduly in the process?!  Or was I really being naïve and over-worried by coming in for this?  The former proved to be true when my symptoms shortly increased and I ended up in the ER.  I was diagnosed with acute rheumatic fever (ARF).  And I NEVER went back to see Dr. X.

Do I see where Dr. X was coming from?  Sure.  I’m sure she gets loads of medical trainees who, having studied the worst, fear it for themselves.  But I neither offered her a differential diagnosis stacked with horrid disease, nor did I exaggerate my symptoms or try to connect the dots for her.  My presentation was not as one with a histrionic disorder.  She missed pericarditis.  She missed inflammatory arthritis.  She misinterpreted a murmur.  She didn’t connect my recent pharyngitis with the current symptoms and test for ASOs (anti-streptococcal antibodies).  She was in error.  And she was flippant and condescending, to boot!

Now, I have had many great experiences with non-flippant, non-condescending medical workers of all flavors, but the best was with a professional who was not my doctor.  During a hospitalization for a subsequent ARF flare, a physician I worked with in a research capacity dropped by each day to review my chart, sometimes advising changes to the treatment plan, and to sit and talk.  He was warm and cheerful and empathic and amazingly helpful.  For such a busy professional to take such a kind interest in me still induces tears of gratitude.

On a side note – isn’t it funny that when we complain, we tend to be more detailed, more verbose, than when we extol the good experiences?!  Yet another prompt to remind the ones we love why and with what strength we love them.  A hearty thanks to all the medical professionals out there – and to those caregivers whose degrees come from the Schools of  Fortitude and Hard Knocks –  whose kindness, whose pure intentions, and whose good care make illness a little more livable. 

Words cannot express.

~ Headstrong, from the blog Headstrong with Lupus

*  *  *  *

When I was hospitalized with pneumonia, the doctors noticed my kidneys were failing and eventually diagnosed me with lupus.  An intern (first year resident) was the one to tell me about my disease – and all he talked about was how brilliant he was for diagnosing me!  He didn’t say sorry or explain lupus to me!  I was so scared and angry about his bad attitude – that was my worst experience!  My best was my first appointment with my rheumy (rheumatologist: connective tissue, immune, and inflammatory disease specialist).  She said over and over how sorry she was and she let me ask all the questions I could think of.  She explained EVERYTHING.  I could tell she really cared.

~Jamie

*  *  *  *

The worst experience was when I went to my rhumie (rheumatologist: connective tissue, immune, and inflammatory disease specialist), thinking I was having a lupus flare. She matter-of-factly tells me, “You’re not having a lupus flare, you have fibromyalgia, so I’m prescribing Cymbalta.” I was in so much pain and confusion – isn’t that how we always feel when we get sick? Like we weren’t expecting it – which we aren’t – and like we have no idea what’s happening – because we don’t… So I just started bawling. And the Dr. said, “I’ll see you out front” and left the room. I’m thinking “This means another disease to try and figure out, live with, and take drugs for…not to mention explaining to everyone in my life that I now have ‘something else’!” Always something, is what they say. I am not supposed to be like this. A good experience…can’t think of one…

~Jeffinerd

*  *  *  *

I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis in 2000.  A few years ago I decided to have surgery on my feet to remove scar tissue and correct deformity.  The first orthopedic surgeon I talked to was not a nice man.  I sat through his condescending attitude – he made me feel like an ingrate and a piece of meat! – for one just one appointment.  Then I switched to another orthopod – and she was just great!  The rest of my experiences have been pretty good – I’m a pretty lucky lady!  And my feet look pretty nice, too!

~Julie S.

*  *  *  *

Worst: After my leg had swollen up very badly with normal MRI results and normal test results, my doctor yelled in my face “there is NOTHING wrong with you or your leg.” To which I stormed out of the office, only to find an apology voicemail on my phone when I got home. A year later with more signs, symptoms, and a positive ANA, she changed her mind. Which was a very good thing, seeing as she was the only thing I could turn to with a student health plan.

Best: “You are being so logical about all of this, Kelli, that I am very sure we are missing something on you too. When everyone else sees a horse, I see a zebra.” From my awesome current neurologist, Dr. B.  Lesson Learned: Ask your doctor if he/she sees a horse or a zebra…if you have an AI disease, you only want one that sees a zebra. Good luck on your zebra hunt! It’s a difficult one!

~ Kelli, from the blog Intricately Connected

*  *  *  *

My worst was with my old family doc.  He was an older guy I’d seen from birth, literally – he delivered me and all my sisters!  He was annoyed when I kept telling him my symptoms.  When I told him I had joint pain, he said that was normal when you hit middle age.  When I told him I had the diarrhea and the constipation, he said most women have issues like that at my age and “eat more fiber.”  When I told him I was really tired, he said, “Aren’t we all these days?!”  When I started feeling like I was living in a brain fog he told me everyone has bad days.  I knew this wasn’t normal stuff, and it really made me angry when he took an annoyed tone and told me this was just getting older and we all had to deal with it and to try not to worry.  He would even sigh and roll his eyes!  Needless to say, when I got a second opinion and she diagnosed me with lupus, I sent him a letter and never went back!

My best was with the GI doc I see for my gut problems.  He was about my family doc’s age, so I was really nervous when he came in.  Also, I figured seeing someone for problems with my bottom – especially a man! – would be really embarrassing.  But he listened really well and he never sighed at me.   He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all!  He did a lot of tests and figured out I needed physical therapy for my colon – some of the muscles just weren’t working right.  Who knew?!  It was really nice that he helped me, but it was the best that he believed me and treated me with respect.  He restored my faith in older male docs, that’s for sure!  Not all docs are bad – you just have to find the right one for you.  Don’t be afraid to keep looking!  There’s a lot of really great ones out there!

~Not Loopy

*  *  *  *

I have lupus and fibromyalgia, so I suffer from a lot of pain.  My worst experience was at a pain clinic.  At these clinics, you sign a contract and they do blood tests to make sure you’re using your medications correctly.  I always did exactly as they prescribed.  Then my doc did a blood test and checked the wrong metabolite – and he ejected me!  He made a mistake, and then no one at that clinic would see me anymore!  So now I drive across town to a different clinic where my new pain doc told me he was sorry for the other doc’s mistake.  He told me he knew I wasn’t selling or abusing the drugs and he was sorry this happened.  I know mistakes get made, but own up to it and apologize.  Otherwise you could ruin a person’s reputation AND yours!

~Rach

*  *  *  *

I was diagnosed with lupus in 2008.  My worst and my best experiences were with my nephrologist (kidney specialist).  He is foreign and I could NOT understand him at first.  I had just nodded when he talked – I mean, I didn’t want to embarrass him!  He even asked me a few times if I understood and I nodded because I didn’t know what to say!  After the first appointment I got in the car and cried.  I heard “chemotherapy” and “kidney failure” and “transplant” but I had no idea what else he’d said.  I thought maybe I had cancer or I needed a transplant now…I wasn’t sure what was going on!  I drove home and did some “googling” till I understood the chemo was for the lupus nephritis to prevent transplant.  I’m sure he said that, but I could NOT understand it!  I called my primary care guy and made sure this was what it meant and I didn’t have cancer on top of lupus!  A couple of days later I got a phone call.  As soon as he started talking, I knew it was my nephrologist.  I took a deep breath and listened really hard and asked him to stop and repeat when I got lost.  I was able to understand him much better this time!  He was calling to apologize that I left without understanding.  He had already sent a letter to me to explain my nephritis and the treatments, but he felt bad I left confused by his accent.  I was so touched!  We had a good laugh about it and I knew he was the nephrologist for me!

~Rochelle

*  *  *  *

I have Lupus and Sjogren’s disease.  When I get vaccines, I always get bad flares.  My worst was when a nurse at the free clinic gave me a flu shot I didn’t want.  She didn’t even ask, she just stuck me!   Ask before you go poking!  The best was when a nurse in the hospital was so good to me when I was upset.  They had come in and told me I would have to have my leg amputated because of my infection and that nurse held my hand while I cried.  She was there after the surgery too.  She made a big difference for me.

~Shauna

*  *  *  *

Bitter/Sweet Entries

The Bitter Entry

The bitter entry submission is from a woman of faith whose lupus has destroyed her kidneys.  She survives by “dialysis and prayer,” and currently awaits a new kidney on the transplant list.  This entry, a prayer, expresses her religious yearning, her deepest emotion about her disease.

Oh Lord,

Giver of life and protector of health,

I beseech you to remember me!  Remember your child!  See her suffering and act to take it from her as only you can!

Do not leave her in this dark place, this place of pain, of uncertainty, of mental fog.  Do not leave her in this prison of bodily hurt, of emotional turmoil, of sinking spirit.  Reach out your hand and lift her from this place!

Lift her to health, or lift her to you!  Give her hope, or give her peace!

Have mercy, oh God, MERCY on me!  Remember that I am your own, made in your form.  Remember my faith.  In you I trust.  To you I cling.

In sweet Jesus’ name I pray,

Amen

I ask that you, too, would pray or meditate or hope or wish as you see fit for this beautiful soul.  I pray that she will find the hope or be gifted the peace she so desperately seeks in this difficult time.

The Sweet Entry

The sweet entry submission comes from an inspirational woman with mixed connective tissue disease.  Complications of her progressive disease have led to end-organ damage, and heart failure, but her fighting spirit remains intact.  This great “Beater of Odds” has  throughout her illness kept a journal detailing her health journey, for herself, and for her family.  She recently underwent a necessary, but dangerous operation to remove a portion of her gut damaged by disease.  This entry was the first written as she recovered from that procedure.

Dear Journal,

Well, here I am!  I appear to be alive…I can tell because I hurt!  They thought I might not make it, but I guess I proved ‘em wrong.  I am very happy to open my eyes and see my room.  I’ve got a nice big window there.  It’s pretty sunny out.  The nurse here is male and he’s very nice.  And nice on the eyes!  Now he’s blushing!  My grand-baby is napping in the corner.  She was sitting next to me.  She lost a tooth last night!  She looks so pretty!  And here is my son – he’s writing what I’m saying because I can’t write now.  He’s been here since they got me in pre-op.  He’s a good boy.  I love him.  I hope his writing is readable.  He never did have good penmanship.  My daughter was here.  She went to get food for everyone.  She looked so worried – I guess I look like hell.  I feel a little like it.  I can sure feel where they poked around in me!  But he was such a nice surgeon.  I’m sure he did his best.  He was here earlier.  He’s got a nice smile.  Such a nice young man.  I wonder if he’s single?  My daughter should try for him!

Well, I’m getting tired now.  I’m sure this has been discombobulated.  My son is nodding.  But I just wanted to say, I’m so happy to be alive!  I love my family.  I want all of this life I have.  I feel lucky I got to do it just one more day, here.  That’s all journal.

Thanks son, just sign it off for me.

~Beater of Odds

And this is Headstrong, signing off, also happy for “just one more day here,” and so thankful for all this month’s Lupie Log contributors!

Thank you to all the Feb 2011 Lupie Log Contributors!

Your words and participation are invaluable!

____________________________________________________

I hope this edition of The Lupie Log has been informative, enjoyable, and helpful. And I hope you will lend YOUR voice – your important insights and personal stories – to the Mar 2011 edition of the log. Please consider submitting a Bitter/Sweet Entry, and/or a response to the Mar 2011 prompt. See The Lupie Log Page for more information on the project and to learn how you can participate.

Thanks for reading, for taking the time to submit, for facing your challenges head-on, and for living with grace and strength the life you were given! All the best, a great day, and an even better tomorrow to all of you!

Cheers,

Headstrong

Psst!  Don’t speak Medical-ese?  Want to learn more?  Here are a few links to help you understand the conditions mentioned in this month’s Lupie Log issue:

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Mar 2011 Lupie Log Prompt

Below please find the Prompt for the Mar 2011 Lupie Log.  You can leave your submission (a response to the prompt and/or a stand alone bitter/sweet entry) via 1) the blog comment function below (it and any accompanying messages are visible only to me, as I have enabled comment moderation), 2) an email (theheadstrongme (at) yahoo (dot) com), or 3) a PM if you are an MDJ user (Headstrong).  Visit The Lupie Log Page for more info.

March 2011 Prompt:  Autoimmune disease can dampen our individuality at times, but it can never dispatch of our distinctiveness completely. We all work variously toward creating and maintaining our unique personality in the face of chronic illness and, in the process, craft and cherish uncommon lives.  What is one thing you would like people to know about you – a characteristic, an experience, or a hobby – that defines you?

And thank you to everyone who sent submissions for the Feb edition of the Lupie Log!  The 2nd installment of the log will be published shortly.  Have a marvelous month and stay tuned to read Feb contributor stories about their good and bad experiences with medical professionals!

ooking rather like !!!!.  I actually do that quite well a lot of the time.)
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You Give Me Fever

We always used to laugh that we didn’t need an excuse for romance, a reminder to  admire and  tender appreciation for our soul mate.  Every day was a “Valentines Day” for us, we’d declare cheesily.  Sure, we’d mark the “commercial day of love” with a heartfelt card and a little cuddle, but never bought into the sweeping calls for gifts and expensive dining.  Yet, lately, as we rekindle our relationship, Mr. H and I jump at any opportunity to mark holidays and anniversaries, eagerly scheduling little heartfelt gestures and celebrations whenever possible.  And what Mr. H brought home to me yesterday, on the day of the martyred St. Valentine, was warm and lingering like few things I’ve experienced.

And, no, although he has in past brought me “the fever,” as in the latest bug rounding the clinic/hospital, an infection is not to what I here refer.

Yesterday, Mr. H insisted that HE would cook ME dinner – the WHOLE dinner, and a surprise one at that – and I was entrusted only with preparation of the desert of my choice.  Now, Mr. H currently has little time to explore the culinary arts, being a busy intern and all, but his basic skills in that department are quite above average.  Throughout school he cooked, I cooked, we cooked for each other often, and the resulting vittles were enjoyable to say the least.  So this lady was pretty stoked at the thought of savoring a lovely dinner cooked by her lovely beloved.  And that her Valentine’s gift for Mr. H was of a cooking theme, so might be of use on this day of love.

The day dawned bright and crisp.  I got up and got Mr. H off to work in good time and with not a few stolen smooches, then turned my attention to my desert-y devices.  I planned to make a layered Mississippi mud cake (heart shaped, of course) with a walnut butter fudge filling, and whipped cream cheese frosting, sprinkled with candied walnuts and bitter chocolate shavings.  Singing along with Ella and beginning to melt the ambrosial ingredients for the fudge on the stove top, I imagined the confection to be.

But then Ella stopped singing.

Silly internet connection, so wonky these days….

I bathed in the streaming sunlight (with my spf 30 lotion on of course – no one wants a flare induced by Valentine’s day rays) and listened to the sound of the wintery breeze outside, absently stirring my sweet charge.  But my sweet charge wasn’t melting.

Hmmm.

I became aware that our tiny fish tank wasn’t bubbling.  Through the still waters of the bowl, little Seamus and Tim looked sullenly up at me.  As I spun about the kitchen, I noted the lack of green clock digits on the appliances.  I spotted the blank screen of the thermostat.  I saw that the cheery  red light of the stove-deck was not shining.

Eee Gads!!!  We’d lost power!

I flew to the door.  The emergency lights in the complex hall were on, so this was not to be remedied by the simple resetting of the unit fuses.  Phooey.

Eh, no sweat, thought I.  It’ll come back on soon enough and all will be well.

No power means a number of things.  No stove or oven, of course.  No music.  No treadmill.  No computer or internet, (except my little netbook and portable wireless, good for about 2 hours on batt power).  No charging of the cell phone, which, unfortunately, boasted only one juice bar at breakfast.  No lights in the study or the bathroom.  No hot water.

Oh, and NO HEATER.

Radiant heat helps a bit, but residing in a little cement block network can make for some chilly living if the heater’s out to lunch.  I bundled up and sat in the sunshine.  For an hour.

When the power had been out for an hour, I called the manager to see what was up.  Something about an iced-up line and some fritzy thing-a-ma-jig in the wiring.  Would be set to right soon.  No worries.

I hopped on the recumbent bike.  For an hour.  Still no power.

Long story short, I did a lot of cleaning and suffering chilled Raynaud’s attacks and reading by the window and thinking about my cake and hoping for the ions to begin their flow, but the power did not resume till the sun, and Mr. H, were punching out for the day.  Electricity was restored about 20 minutes before Mr. H called to let me know he was on his way, and about 2 minutes before my phone died.  I felt just awful telling him there would be no marriage of cocoa bean and walnut for our desert, but he (and I) knew there was no help for it.  Instead, he swung by the grocery and nabbed an AMAZING mango cake square, bustling in with a few bags of supplies for dinner, and laughing at the howling of the heater as it valiantly battled the cool apartment.

He smiled at me, flustered and still in my work out clothes, waiting for the water to heat sufficiently before I bathed.  He started dinner while I took a quickie shower and donned his favorite dress and scarf.  I twisted and pinned my wet hair up, fixed my pretty little pearls in my ears, retrieved his gift, wrapped an apron about me,  and emerged to offer my services as Sous Chef de Cuisine.

Mr. H’s eyes were so still, so soft on me as I approached.  When I suddenly began serenading him with the Peggy Lee version of Fever, he grinned, but his expression remained deep and appreciative, in the moment.  Together we prepared the rest of the meal, Mr. H finding ample opportunity to use and extol the virtues of my gift.  It whisked me back to those wonderful early days in the kitchen together…

Dinner was OUTSTANDING.  Mr. H really outdid himself.  A fresh herb, radicchio, arugula, and spinach salad with tomatoes, artichokes, fresh croutons, and a homemade spicy balsamic viniagrette.  Potato, artichoke, and scallion croquettes with a lemon caper sauce.  The creme de la creme – a tuscan white wine and herb tilapia.  I was in comestible HEAVEN.  And the atmosphere – magnificent.  A few candles – indeed, votives from our wedding – some soft music, a half dozen deep red roses (bought that morning and kept in a vase in the doctor’s lounge during the day before they made the trip to our table), exchanged cards with earnest personal messages and misty gaze, Mr. H’s shining, limpid pools of mahogany eyes, and his dear sweet white smile and quiet voice.

After the meal, we made short work of the dishes, turned the lights down low, opened the blinds, and, wrapped up in each other, looked out on the lights of the city.

Squeezing my hand and pressing his chin a little closer to my temple Mr. H broke the saccharine silence to hum the final verse of the song I’d started earlier in the evening.  Pulling him closer still, I filled in the words.

They give you fever

When you kiss them

Fever, if you live you learn

Fever, till you sizzle,

What a lovely way to burn

I think we’re agreed that any gaudy holiday, any silly excuse, just any moment available for celebrating what we’ve had, what we have, and what we will have, is reason enough.  Yay, I burn forsooth.

Oh, and his gift to me?  Two lovely imported dinner plates, green and smooth, with an amber glaze and scalloped edges.  A fitting promise for more of the same…

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A Celebration of Love

Image adapted from The Graphics Fairy Collection

A happy Valentine’s day to all!

I wish you all a day filled with support, understanding, and communication of only the best kind, and real love of every kind. Roses, hearts, and valentines aside, I hope you feel cherished and appreciated today. I offer my deepest appreciation for all my wonderful family, my outstanding friends, my beautiful husband, and my budding blogosphere buddies – even those who challenge me and bid me defend and clarify my words and stance – and thank my lucky stars for my life and those who make it both lovely and interesting.

Best to all today, and may an even better tomorrow greet you!

Cheers, Headstrong

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