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It's not so often I touch on this subject, and that's probably just as well. [1]

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Date: 2023-02-08  

So I’ve been here technically for seventeen years, but I didn’t become very active until just about two years ago. 2020 was key, really, as the pandemic reached deep into the economic scene where I was working (in an administrative position in the auto industry), so I was laid off with pandemic relief. This was a mixed blessing, as my workplace had been sometimes a little rough sometimes, such as the day I walked to the time card area and found a picture of an upside-down OK sign (I told the floor supervisor what the symbol meant, and he played it off; later he explicitly apologized for one of his techs who kept dropping N-bombs, saying it was okay since the guy was black). So getting laid off was tough in one way, because I’d been at that place for a good long while; but it was also a relief not to have to face some instances of what I considered to be workplace hostility.

So most of 2020 involved me staying at home (not a problem for me, a homebody) and trying to stay grounded. This had its own challenges, which I’ll return to. But for the most part, 2020 was about trying to get back to writing poetry, something I hadn’t done in about a decade, and get more acquainted with books on fascism and propaganda, as that seemed to be the era into which we were moving. (I’m really not going to talk about politics.)

The other thing about 2020 was, well—and this is something I’ve alluded to before—I had a problem. Like many others, I had a drinking problem. It was significant. Point in fact, it had been going on for as long as I’d stopped writing poetry; those were tough times. Part of my pattern then, a pattern of denial, was to comfort myself that at least it was a functional problem: I still made it to work every day, never late, never called in sick (except once, when I legitimately had a gall bladder attack). All of the richest excuses, you know.

So when I got laid off, the main thing that went was a sense of external structure. Suddenly, my entire days were free. So, that was 2020, for the most part. I avoided Covid (though I kept up with the news); I avidly read online newspapers, getting subscriptions to maintain a connection to the outside world; and I subsisted.

2021 was really significant for me, for a number of reasons. First, I incidentally had run dry. Here’s where it’s just as well that I have limited means; I was not housebound, but it was not worth it to me to venture out in the cold. So I went about two months dry, and then I just let that continue.

Then, in late April, I received the Covid vaccine, and my life changed: for the better, and in almost every way.

I say that not to be overly dramatic, but several things came together. With the vaccine, you know, like most other people I knew that some people might have a severe reaction to the injection, might need to take to bed, etc. None of that happened to me. In fact, the one side effect I did have was that I lost my appetite.

Completely.

I went four days without eating. I would get up every day, try to eat, but I actively did not want to eat. I was not hungry. Around Day 4, I decided I would take advantage of this physiological change and would start exercising. Also, I knew I had to make explicit efforts to eat, because my body wasn’t telling me it was hungry but food is not optional. Since I no longer had desire tied to biological need, I was able to just rule in or out whatever food item. Because I no longer wanted to eat, I could eat what I wanted.

I made drastic changes. I didn’t want to eat any carbohydrates. I realized this also extended to a cancellation of any cravings for alcohol. So that was out; no wheat products; cut back on red meat. Eventually I even cut out rice. I went to a diet of vegetables and fruits; legumes; dairy; some oily foods like avocados, oily fish & olives; chicken; fish & seafood; nuts; root vegetables of all kinds for starch; and Muscle Milk supplements. It was a radical change of diet, but there was no sense of deprivation. I moved to taking a multivitamin to cover any nutritional “gaps”. (Months later, when I checked in with my doctor, I told him I’d like to talk to a nutritionist, but the clinic had let the nutritionist go in the wake of the pandemic. He told me to just make sure I was getting sufficient protein.)

Another major thing that changed around this same time: I began walking. I started out small, because I was heavy. Before the vaccine, at a previous doctor’s appointment, I had weighed in at 203. I remember that number because there had been an Oprah segment many years ago where she kept talking about the dreaded 2-0-0 (or something in that vein). So, you know, I noticed. I’d always been a bit chunky, especially since college; and the decade at sea—astagger—did no favors. I’m just saying that it was noticed, and kind of expected as a matter of course.

It was at the next appointment when I took to the scale and noticed that 10 pounds had fallen off, in just a month, and I hadn’t really changed anything (I hadn’t completely changed my diet yet; was not exercising yet). So I thought if I can lose ten pounds with little effort, how different things would be when I put some elbow grease into it. So, that’s what I did.

I had all the time in the world, and few if any responsibilities. I’m unmarried; I don’t have children. I was pandemic pay. I had full measure of my day. So what I did as the weather turned warmer was rise before sunrise and begin walking. I had to walk before it got too hot, as my body doesn’t control its own thermostat very well anymore (as from a thyroid condition diagnosed years before; plus a session of frostbite back in 2008). So, as someone was to later put it, I turned walking into a part-time job. By the time I was at peak stride, I had built up stamina and strength to walk ten miles per day—four hours, roundtrip, every day. I invested in walking shoes and everything. I was very committed.

I lost a tremendous amount of weight: about forty pounds in fourteen weeks. I would have kept walking but at some point I’d caused an injury to my right heel, and I kept walking on it, thinking, you know, “Walk it off!” That didn’t work for the type of injury I had. I guess this part of the story may be hard to believe, but the injury was severe enough that I was laid up pretty much all that fall; and then the winter hit and I wasn’t going outside.

Plus: Omicron! Oh my god, I was not going anywhere last winter. I did, however, put my ankle weights back on, once my heel healed to where I could put pressure on it. So, by the time I had to return to the doctor for a shoulder injury in April, I had managed to lose even more weight, where most people gain in the winter. The nurse remarked on this, and I told her about the ankle weights.

I’m so sorry this story is so long. I’ve never been good at writing short stories—only poems and novellas. And I was only decent at poetry writing (though I was once excellent at editing). So, my apologies.

So 2021 was very pivotal for me, in several ways, almost all having to do with my physical body. But also I was trying to get back into a habit of reading serious work at a serious clip. Other than the injury, I was feeling really good at how things seemed to be changing. I didn’t really believe that change was possible, but there I was.

2022 was harder, though not so much at first, and not all at once. I suppose I should save some details so as to try to cut this for length. Let me just say that in April I suffered a torn rotator cuff and had impingement on the same shoulder, which saw me take to physical therapy; the therapy didn’t help realign, but I learned valuable exercises to help try to rehab the shoulder at home. And that’s where things were until late July, when I got sick.

I regret to report that I don’t know what I had. I should have tested, and I didn’t. I waited too long; and/or I didn’t want to have Covid, so I didn’t want to know? I think it was a combination of the two: I really had hoped I didn’t just catch Covid from sitting in a rocking chair with my great-nephew in my lap where he sneezed right in my face, smiling. I mean, right in my face.

I was down for the count for about a full week, and I was under the weather for another two, just not fully there. Now, part of that could be some self-medication, which did happen and for which I had prepared. I am an advocate for harm reduction, so I could take the time here to point out why cannabis is effective with regards to Covid; but this story is long enough. Suffice it to say, I had CBD gummies for my out-of-whack shoulder, and a few other gummies besides. I would use the same items again, were I to come down with Covid again. (If anyone wants to know the science behind this, I’m findable. Asking hurts no one.) But I never tested; just tried to ride it out.

A lot of health problems began happening right thereafter. When I saw the doctor routinely after the bout of illness, he noted that my thyroid levels were out of balance again and that I should see the endocrinologist. Sure.

Other issues had cropped up by then, issues that I didn’t want to discuss with my GP. Not then, not yet, I suppose. Since I had to see the endocrinologist anyway, I thought I’d make use of the fact that that person was not in my regular life in any fashion but still was a medical professional with whom I could discuss touchy things. Like issues with memory.

I’d had obvious prosopagnosia (face-name disconnection) even way back in the early 2000s, but now similar effects were happening in other cognitive domains. Forgive me for turning to academic speak; I don’t know how else to describe this portion. I was extra-sensitive to any cognitive changes, because by this point I had immersed myself in Covid materials. Way back in January and even before, I’d begun to look into Covid and its effects on the brain. I bring that up, despite the fact that doing so obviously evokes questions, precisely to be up front with why I had that information just at my fingertips. I knew what kind of decline could accompany Covid infection. So that I was experiencing some of them made me want to tell someone in a position to help me.

It’s been a comedy of errors. I’ll save the details for maybe another time—this is so long! and I don’t want to bore you any more than I may already have—but after the appointment was over, I called her office to ask specifically about a particular compounding medicine that someone here at Daily Kos had mentioned in the context of her thyroid condition. But it was a real game of telephone—the receptionist either couldn’t hear what I was saying or just didn’t work her headset or whatever equipment she was using correctly: I could hear myself as though I were on speaker. After that, I heard back from the office, but they’d written down a completely different pharmaceutical: I’d asked the doctor to consider low-dose naltrexone (which was being used off-label in other autoimmune maladies as well as having a trial started), but the person taking the note kept repeating maltrexate— not the same at all. So there was that….

… and then, also (since I’m sharing utterly right now, I should include this, as it’s directly relevant; damn, I wish I could find a different way to phrase this, but I can’t) the endocrinologist’s office called back one day, when I had just stepped out for a walk, and left a message with the person who answered the phone. My mom. (I share an apartment with my dad and mom; all expenses are fully shared and split evenly, etc. No adult in my situation wants to talk about this, because of the huge societal blanket of condemnation and stigma surrounding this type of living arrangement. But it really is relevant, because I have no legal guardian, which means that lady had no right to give my personal information to my mother over the phone.) She told my mom—in just the twenty minutes I was gone—that the doctor would get back to me regarding memory problems.

I was stopped short, especially having myself worked in the healthcare industry. HIPAA exists! I was incensed at having my business outed before I was ready to share my concerns, before I even had any idea of what any problem could even be. I was so outdone. Apparently, I’d signed a release back four years ago when I had had my eyes checked at a ophthalmologist in the same broadly connected health system that they could discuss that care with my parents, as they were listed as closest relatives to contact; and the office used that release to excuse their message leaving.

At any rate, the rest of the story can be told as time goes on, I suppose. What I wanted to finally get to is that this turn of events began around October, and it’s unclear whether or not my concerns will get addressed. The endocrinologist is convinced that my memory problems are to do with my thyroid, though Covid may have kickstarted the whole thing into motion in the first place. It’s a big unknown. In the meantime, I wish I were not having such problems, but I am, so there you go.

I had an ultrasound on my thyroid last week, and I spoke to the endocrinologist yesterday. There is a nodule. This could be one of two things: either it’s functional, meaning it is out-of-whack but still responsive to the organ as a whole; or it’s nonfunctional, in which case it can be dangerous and might lead to something worse. It would need to be handled right away.

The endocrinologist acknowledged that there was a shadow and that another ultrasound would be needed. When I asked whether she would want a biopsy (as I understood it from my brief foray into thyroid info, that was the next standard move), she said that she hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. She’s been pushing me to get the tissue removed via ablation. So she just wants to cut the whole thing out and be done with it, and she’s really been pushing this “endpoint”, as she puts it. (I’m considering insisting on the biopsy if the second ultrasound confirms that the nodule is nonfunctional. I wouldn’t want the information that the tissue could provide to be completely lost.)

Long story. So sorry. I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle because I don’t have a proven PCR test for the possible Covid exposure, so she’s just not taking that under consideration AT ALL. My general practitioner, too, seems to be stymied as to how to determine at this late date whether I ever had Covid. All the while, symptoms are still making themselves known; and in the moment it can become hard to communicate this.

In the meantime, I’m trying to stay active insofar as I can: wearing ankle weights and reading, reading, reading. I’m writing, too—witness a very detailed post I made here recently—but mostly I’m just focusing on improving my academic skills, as I’d had decided well before this Covid/thyroid flare that I would investigate going back to school. Two years ago, that was not even a pipe dream; it was laughable. I was in no such shape. But today, I’m focused. I’m disciplined. I’m internally motivated. It’s just that things aren’t jelling the way they used to. I may not have the wherewithal financially to return to school at the moment (these last two years, I have seen this period as me paying myself in order to command my own free time and to pursue this type of intense study; that time will necessarily come to an end, as funds are finite); but I owe it to myself to pursue grad school. I know I can handle the material. (At least I can now.)

The general accepted rule of thumb when it comes to cognitive problems is that the best time for intervention is the first year after detection of symptoms. That gives a good floor, some parameters; but at the same time there’s a clock in the background—barely perceptible, but the time pressure is still there. What I fear is that one day I will stop noticing the symptoms and just accept them for how things are. I don’t want to get to that point. I think there are still interventions that can be had if implemented. But part of that is beyond my control—low-dose naltrexone is available only off-label, which neither of my doctors will consider; and the endocrinologist says that Covid is just not part of her specialty so she’s only considering the thyroid when she’s handling my case.

Meanwhile, both doctors are now mentioning my weight, which is within the range of normal for someone my height; they’re concerned about the rapidity as well as the amount. Tuesday I weighed in at 128, recording a loss of ~20 lbs since October, the last time I’d seen the endocrinologist. So I’m looking into that, too, seeing if the hunger hormone, ghrelin, might be a root cause. I’ve been without an appetite for almost two years now, and I think it’s possible that ghrelin might have something to do with that disturbance. (As for practical matters, I can certainly try to eat more, but that’s harder than it sounds. I’m simply not hungry. And I feel like my efforts from 2021 are in danger of being pathologized, which I find disappointing, as I knew I couldn’t claim full credit for the loss of appetite but I certainly put in all the walking. I put in work. *sigh* Even now I still have a plate of food to eat before I can go to bed.)

Why am I sharing this? Well, looking back at my involvement and engagement here at Daily Kos, a place where I make good use of the platform to hone my writing and to interact with you fine people, these last handful of months my performance here has been uneven. I’ve posted very academic stuff, some casual items, and even notoriously a rant (normally not my style). I received a letter from a good acquaintance here telling me that she was worried about me (ostensibly about one particular brouhaha that was bouncing about at that time, the M---t controversy), so I finally had an indicator here that what I was going through privately may be leaking out here anyway, despite my best intentions.

So I share this, I guess, to admit my vulnerabilities. I have stirred controversy here a couple of times, never maliciously; but probably more turbulently than some may have cared for. And I’m not perfect. I fall short of even my own expectations at times—that rant was cathartic and (I still feel) on-point, but it proved me inconsistent, and that surely has had its own fallout. I want you guys to know I still mean to hold myself to high standards when it comes to posting here. I mean not to be cavalier with the platform. This is a serious site, with some light-hearted fare on the side; I want to contribute to that, not detract from it.

And I share so that maybe I will seem more accessible and not so removed. I mean not to set myself up as an expert (though I shield my opinions with the expert opinion of others, yes, I certainly do that). I don’t know everything. I’m no saint. I do believe myself to be reflective; and if I can share something with someone else that may be helpful, I hope to accomplish that.

As I mentioned at the start, I’ve been here for years and rarely have shared anything personal, so perhaps by doing so I can shrink the space between us.

It had been my plan, absent all this medical news, to turn to writing an in-depth essay as a birthday present to myself. That deadline is purely tentative, but it’s just good to have even general goals that can be better sketched in as time approaches. When I wrote the really in-depth diary, that took about one full week of work (not including the reading—completely different timetable). And I enjoyed it, because it was something I wanted to do. Maybe you guys could help me narrow down my topic? I have a general one in mind, but other topics have come up in the meantime as items possibly to treat… y’all have any preferences?

Sorry to go on and on, but thank you for reading.

[END]
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[1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2023/2/8/2151948/-It-s-not-so-often-I-touch-on-this-subject-and-that-s-probably-just-as-well

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