Yesterday I had an appt. with my primary care physician. Yearly checkup.
I sat in that lovely paper gown for a few moments before the nurse came in and entered some information into the computer file on Morris, Marilyn 04/21/1938. We went over all my medications, which I had brought with me, and then she took my blood pressure and temperature. Everything okay there. So far, so good.
Then the doctor came in and she proceeded to check me over. I asked her about a small mole on my right arm; she looked at it with a light and then said it was nothing to worry about. So far, so good, there.
No flu shot, please, I said. She agreed.
Then she looked in my mouth. Oh, man. She stepped back in surprise. "You've got a lot of dental work in front of you."
I told her, "I'm just going to get dentures. It's cheaper than implants." She nodded. "It's the Sjogren's, isn't it?" And I told her my dentist said within six months to a year, I would have no teeth left. And after implants he wanted to do, I would have no money left: $60,000.00.
Besides, Sjogren's would make short work of whatever teeth I had implants.
So the search is on for a good dentist who will make my dentures. According to one of the women I used to work with, during a brunch conversation on Friday, she told me about a woman in her office who had her teeth pulled, with no general anesthesia, dentures put in place, and the next day she was back at work.
That sounds good to me. I can take the pain; Lord knows we Lupies are accustomed to pain.
I think I'm going next week. Wish me luck......
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Sjogren's: An evil twin to Lupus
Isn't it enough that I have SLE (systemic lupus erythematosus ) CHF, (congestive heart failure) Asthma and various and sundry offshoots of those primary diseases/syndromes, that now I have to take a real hard look at Sjogren's and what it has been doing to my body?
More specifically, to my mouth. Dry mouth. I sip on something all day, spray my mouth often with the remedy for dry mouth, which lasts oh, maybe four minutes, and I cannot cry. I mean, I cannot produce tears. I use eye drops several times a day, a brand that is used especially for dry eyes.
So it was no surprise when I went to my new dentist. My former dentist and I had a falling out; mainly it was his staff who got sideways with my daughter, who pays my dental bills. Long story. Essentially, I went to see another dentist. I had lost a tooth....in the front, top. Where it's visible. I look like Granny Clampett.
I asked him if he could re-insert the tooth, and he shook his head. Nothing to attach it to. We talked implants for a while.
After a thorough exam, and a scan like an MRI, he gave me the bad news. Every tooth in my mouth has cavities. Every. Single. Tooth. So I suggested that maybe he could fit me with dentures. Get the whole thing over with. Okey, Dokey. He worked up an estimate, or two, really: $60,000.00 or $80,00.00.
Before we sent the estimate to my daughter in CA, we did some Internet searching for places who make dentures. Every step is itemized on those sites.
I quickly realized that it's not as easy a process as it had seemed. And my new dentist had warned me about patients who had insisted on dentures, and a week later, they were back saying, "I don't like these one bit." Of course, he was looking more at implants and bridges.
I did appreciate him telling me, after he had decreed all my teeth were "hole-y" it wasn't my fault. Nothing that I did or didn't do caused my teeth to be in danger of crumbling, right before my very eyes.
So, right now, I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for the next tooth to drop. Which it will, very soon. New dentist had told me that within six months to a year, all my teeth would be gone. Lovely.
Bad enough I have a missing tooth on top, next to my new crowns bonded together for strength, as I kept losing the temporary crowns and the dental techs scolded me about "not being careful" as they re-inserted the temporary crowns each time. I even bought some denture adhesive to keep them in, but they still fell out.
My self-esteem has taken a nose dive, for sure. I had a good smile, darn it. Now I've got a gaping hole where a nice white tooth had been. I'm convinced I look like a hillbilly who has been drinking too much Mountain Dew (said by some to be Hillbilly Heroin).
One good thing: I have good bones. Long ago, I had bridges on both sides of the bottom teeth, which were badly done and infection deemed it necessary to remove them. That was when I had dental insurance from my workplace. Unfortunately, Medicare doesn't provide any dental coverage. So, essentially, I've been gumming my food for years without any ill effects.
TMI, I"m sure. Too much information about the dental issues I've been encountering, right? But, I suppose I'm really asking for validation, or dire warnings from all my lupus buddies.
If you were this 74 year old woman with lupus, etc. would you want to take any of the measures mentioned above?
Every so often, I think, Why bother? Let the teeth fall where they may, so to speak. Buy a heavy duty blender and eat mush. Somehow, somewhere, a bit of pride intrudes and says I'm worth it. Even if they plant me the day after I get my dentures, by golly, I've taken care of myself.
This week, in a message to someone on the online lupus support group, I quoted M. Scott Peck's opening line in his book that changed my life: The Road Less Traveled.... Life is difficult.
Yes, it is. I have to keep remembering that.
More specifically, to my mouth. Dry mouth. I sip on something all day, spray my mouth often with the remedy for dry mouth, which lasts oh, maybe four minutes, and I cannot cry. I mean, I cannot produce tears. I use eye drops several times a day, a brand that is used especially for dry eyes.
So it was no surprise when I went to my new dentist. My former dentist and I had a falling out; mainly it was his staff who got sideways with my daughter, who pays my dental bills. Long story. Essentially, I went to see another dentist. I had lost a tooth....in the front, top. Where it's visible. I look like Granny Clampett.
I asked him if he could re-insert the tooth, and he shook his head. Nothing to attach it to. We talked implants for a while.
After a thorough exam, and a scan like an MRI, he gave me the bad news. Every tooth in my mouth has cavities. Every. Single. Tooth. So I suggested that maybe he could fit me with dentures. Get the whole thing over with. Okey, Dokey. He worked up an estimate, or two, really: $60,000.00 or $80,00.00.
Before we sent the estimate to my daughter in CA, we did some Internet searching for places who make dentures. Every step is itemized on those sites.
I quickly realized that it's not as easy a process as it had seemed. And my new dentist had warned me about patients who had insisted on dentures, and a week later, they were back saying, "I don't like these one bit." Of course, he was looking more at implants and bridges.
I did appreciate him telling me, after he had decreed all my teeth were "hole-y" it wasn't my fault. Nothing that I did or didn't do caused my teeth to be in danger of crumbling, right before my very eyes.
So, right now, I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for the next tooth to drop. Which it will, very soon. New dentist had told me that within six months to a year, all my teeth would be gone. Lovely.
Bad enough I have a missing tooth on top, next to my new crowns bonded together for strength, as I kept losing the temporary crowns and the dental techs scolded me about "not being careful" as they re-inserted the temporary crowns each time. I even bought some denture adhesive to keep them in, but they still fell out.
My self-esteem has taken a nose dive, for sure. I had a good smile, darn it. Now I've got a gaping hole where a nice white tooth had been. I'm convinced I look like a hillbilly who has been drinking too much Mountain Dew (said by some to be Hillbilly Heroin).
One good thing: I have good bones. Long ago, I had bridges on both sides of the bottom teeth, which were badly done and infection deemed it necessary to remove them. That was when I had dental insurance from my workplace. Unfortunately, Medicare doesn't provide any dental coverage. So, essentially, I've been gumming my food for years without any ill effects.
TMI, I"m sure. Too much information about the dental issues I've been encountering, right? But, I suppose I'm really asking for validation, or dire warnings from all my lupus buddies.
If you were this 74 year old woman with lupus, etc. would you want to take any of the measures mentioned above?
Every so often, I think, Why bother? Let the teeth fall where they may, so to speak. Buy a heavy duty blender and eat mush. Somehow, somewhere, a bit of pride intrudes and says I'm worth it. Even if they plant me the day after I get my dentures, by golly, I've taken care of myself.
This week, in a message to someone on the online lupus support group, I quoted M. Scott Peck's opening line in his book that changed my life: The Road Less Traveled.... Life is difficult.
Yes, it is. I have to keep remembering that.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Another Gift from Lupus
As if having a brain fog and injecting 70 units of Humalog, instead of 70 units of Lantus, going to the ER and having the result of my body and brain going AWOL for several days, I added a new situation: I lost a tooth.
Now, little kids look cute when they have lost their baby teeth, and have that charming little smile. But I'm an adult, and my smile makes me look like a hillbilly.
Sure, the tooth would be one that showed any time I smile or open my mouth to speak. Blame my dry mouth syndrome on Sjogren's, which a lot of people with lupus have added to their full plate. No kidding, I didn't even suspect that tooth was going to make a swan dive very soon. I bit into one of those trail mix bars, chock full of nuts, raisins and chocolate...very soft and "smushy" so I know I hadn't bitten into anything hard.
Fortunately, I found the errant tooth, still in my mouth surrounded by the chocolate, nuts and raisins. I called my new dentist and asked if I could have the dentist look at it and see what we can do. I already had an appointment for a cleaning, anyway. So she asked if I could come in at 7:30 AM. Normally I wouldn't have accepted that early an appointment, but my vanity got the best of me.
In the meantime, it's a mean time.
I didn't put the tooth under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy.
Now, little kids look cute when they have lost their baby teeth, and have that charming little smile. But I'm an adult, and my smile makes me look like a hillbilly.
Sure, the tooth would be one that showed any time I smile or open my mouth to speak. Blame my dry mouth syndrome on Sjogren's, which a lot of people with lupus have added to their full plate. No kidding, I didn't even suspect that tooth was going to make a swan dive very soon. I bit into one of those trail mix bars, chock full of nuts, raisins and chocolate...very soft and "smushy" so I know I hadn't bitten into anything hard.
Fortunately, I found the errant tooth, still in my mouth surrounded by the chocolate, nuts and raisins. I called my new dentist and asked if I could have the dentist look at it and see what we can do. I already had an appointment for a cleaning, anyway. So she asked if I could come in at 7:30 AM. Normally I wouldn't have accepted that early an appointment, but my vanity got the best of me.
In the meantime, it's a mean time.
I didn't put the tooth under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Some Lupies Have Diabetes, Too....
On Saturday night, I took my usual dose of 70 units of Lantus. At least, I thought I had taken Lantus. As I was putting the vial back in the refrigerator, I looked at the vial in horror....NOT Lantus, which is a slow release for me at night. It was Humalog, that I take in the daytime before a meal, if necessary. And on a sliding scale, per my doctor's instructions.
So, what do I need to do?
I told my son what I had done. He suggested I call the pharmacist where I get my meds. The pharmacy was closed. So I asked the friendly kid who answered the phone for another one that stayed open all night.
So I called one of the two choices, and held and held.....finally the pharmacist came on the line and after telling her of my predicament, she said, "Don't go to sleep. Take your blood glucose every two hours; if it's low, eat something with carbs, protein and sugar."
By that time, the extra strength dose had hit my body, hard. I began shaking and sweating, the usual reaction to low blood sugar. But I had no idea how long this would last, since I had taken such a large dose.
Meanwhile, my son had done an Internet search and one of the instructions was to go to my friendly neighborhood ER.
So off we went.
This was about 8:30 PM. A nurse took all my vital signs and installed a port if we needed to do any infusions. She input all the info into the computer and then said the doctor would be in shortly.
The doctor was a young woman (at my age, all doctors are young) who reassured me; this happens sometimes, and it was a good thing I had done to come to the ER. They took my reading every two hours, and on the last two hour stretch, someone came in bearing a turkey sandwich with a bag of potato chips and a glass of water. I was told to eat all of it. Which I did.
And two hours after that little snack, my glucose was up to a normal level. I could go home. It was now past 2:00 a.m.
I went to bed and slept until 9 a.m. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. A very large truck. I read the printout Woody had looked up, and the gist of the post was to do essentially nothing for the next couple of days.
That's almost against my religion. I know that I should rest more with a lupus flare, but I resist every time. Besides feeling beaten up, my brain reverted to its former status: Brain fog. This was Sunday.
Surely I would feel better the next day, I rationalized.
Nope. On Monday, I managed to get out of bed, but I still felt lousy, this time more of a brain dysfunction than physical.
Now, it's Tuesday, and I feel better, all things considered. Even my brain fog shows it's fading away.
The moral to this story is: Always, always, look at the label on the medication. In fact, someone on my lupus support group, a former nurse, told me she was trained to look at the label three times....First, when retrieving the med from its storage place. Second, preparing to inject, and third, after drawing up the amount to be injected.
And another precaution: my diabetes medications are now in color-coded, different sized holders in the refrigerator. So far, I have had only a couple of occasions to inject the Humalog, and Lantus in the evening, which I cut back from 70 units to 50.
Mission accomplished.
So, what do I need to do?
I told my son what I had done. He suggested I call the pharmacist where I get my meds. The pharmacy was closed. So I asked the friendly kid who answered the phone for another one that stayed open all night.
So I called one of the two choices, and held and held.....finally the pharmacist came on the line and after telling her of my predicament, she said, "Don't go to sleep. Take your blood glucose every two hours; if it's low, eat something with carbs, protein and sugar."
By that time, the extra strength dose had hit my body, hard. I began shaking and sweating, the usual reaction to low blood sugar. But I had no idea how long this would last, since I had taken such a large dose.
Meanwhile, my son had done an Internet search and one of the instructions was to go to my friendly neighborhood ER.
So off we went.
This was about 8:30 PM. A nurse took all my vital signs and installed a port if we needed to do any infusions. She input all the info into the computer and then said the doctor would be in shortly.
The doctor was a young woman (at my age, all doctors are young) who reassured me; this happens sometimes, and it was a good thing I had done to come to the ER. They took my reading every two hours, and on the last two hour stretch, someone came in bearing a turkey sandwich with a bag of potato chips and a glass of water. I was told to eat all of it. Which I did.
And two hours after that little snack, my glucose was up to a normal level. I could go home. It was now past 2:00 a.m.
I went to bed and slept until 9 a.m. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. A very large truck. I read the printout Woody had looked up, and the gist of the post was to do essentially nothing for the next couple of days.
That's almost against my religion. I know that I should rest more with a lupus flare, but I resist every time. Besides feeling beaten up, my brain reverted to its former status: Brain fog. This was Sunday.
Surely I would feel better the next day, I rationalized.
Nope. On Monday, I managed to get out of bed, but I still felt lousy, this time more of a brain dysfunction than physical.
Now, it's Tuesday, and I feel better, all things considered. Even my brain fog shows it's fading away.
The moral to this story is: Always, always, look at the label on the medication. In fact, someone on my lupus support group, a former nurse, told me she was trained to look at the label three times....First, when retrieving the med from its storage place. Second, preparing to inject, and third, after drawing up the amount to be injected.
And another precaution: my diabetes medications are now in color-coded, different sized holders in the refrigerator. So far, I have had only a couple of occasions to inject the Humalog, and Lantus in the evening, which I cut back from 70 units to 50.
Mission accomplished.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Grieving
| On
Tuesday evening, I had dinner with a good friend. This lady is strong
as vinegar; been through so much in her life, yet she maintains an air
of serenity and dignity. Until Tuesday evening. She said, "I'm not in a very good spiritual condition lately." Hmmm. That's just what I posted on the Lupies site the other day....I think. I told her I would listen, as I had no words of wisdom to give to her; no advice. Just listen with my heart. Two of our mutual friends are gone from our lives....hers more than mine, friends, I mean. Our friend Tina died of pneumonia in the hospital; we attended her funeral about a month ago. Another friend, Nancy, has been bundled up and flown to MD, by her kids, as they are afraid of her growing Alzheimer's. We probably won't see her again, if her kids have anything to do with it. (Snort.) So, what's been brewing in my muddled mind is: We're both grieving over our recent losses, and I'll add one more item: Grief about growing old-er. Nothing I can do about that. But I hate the "infirmities" of old-er age. My friend likes to sit in a booth, but man, how hard it was for me to haul my butt out of the booth. I'll have to remember I suggest a table next time we go eat together. We used to go places at the drop of a hat, excited about antique -ing. Finding new places along the road. Now, I have to consider how I'm doing that day -- never mind planning in advance. What I think is going on with both of us is not so much grieving over the loss of our friends, but also grieving over our former selves. And here I thought I had done that already! But with lupus, when it sneaks back like a thief in the night, I get blind-sided. Again, I have to go through the grieving process. And that sucks. |
__._,_.___
|
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Book Title
I'm often asked how I choose the absolutely correct title for my books. This book about lupus is no different.
I wrestled with several phrases, all of which sounded not quite right."Living with Lupus" sounds lame, and I'm sure there are several books out there with that title. (Note to reader: Titles are NOT copyrighted. Anyone can publish any book with the title: Gone With the Wind, or To Kill a Mockingbird. Of course, any astute reader would recognize the rip-off right away. So that's not too common a practice.)
"Life in the Lupus Lane" was also considered, then aside.
Other titles with great alliteration followed, although I can't remember them right now. That's how memorable they were.
Finally, my publisher came through with the perfect title. Somebody at some point said, or wrote, "Life isn't fair. You have to play the hand you're dealt." That led to "The Cards We're Dealt."
Perfect. That describes lupus perfectly.
I wrestled with several phrases, all of which sounded not quite right."Living with Lupus" sounds lame, and I'm sure there are several books out there with that title. (Note to reader: Titles are NOT copyrighted. Anyone can publish any book with the title: Gone With the Wind, or To Kill a Mockingbird. Of course, any astute reader would recognize the rip-off right away. So that's not too common a practice.)
"Life in the Lupus Lane" was also considered, then aside.
Other titles with great alliteration followed, although I can't remember them right now. That's how memorable they were.
Finally, my publisher came through with the perfect title. Somebody at some point said, or wrote, "Life isn't fair. You have to play the hand you're dealt." That led to "The Cards We're Dealt."
Perfect. That describes lupus perfectly.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Hope I Can Remain Lupus-Flare Free
I'm going to attend a writer's conference on Saturday. For the past few days, I've been gathering up materials to haul into the venue so I can (a) take notes during speakers' presentations, and (b) sell my books in the Author's Bookstore. Of course, I don't have all my books here at home; some are "out of stock" meaning I haven't ordered any new books in a while. So I'll have to do with Sabbath's Gift, Sabbath's House, Forces of Nature and two or three copies of The Cards We're Dealt.
I've also created a three-page "flyer" to insert in each book, listing all my books, along with a business card.
So I'm taking things slowly, being organized, so I won't have to rush around on Friday night, looking for things.
Yet I'm a bit apprehensive. It's about a 40 minute drive, in heavy traffic, and I need to register around 8:00 AM. Knowing my body as I do, I will arrive kind of frazzled from doing battle with other cars/trucks/buses on the Interstate.
Then there comes the setting up of my books in The Bookstore at the venue, where I don't have to be there to sell my books; instead, others will be present to take the credit cards/money, etc, so I can feel free to attend the speakers' presentations.
So far, what's the problem? I hear you ask.
Well, I'm the kind of person who goes "all out" in learning something from a writers conference. Talking to others "of my kind" (authors) is a real "high" for me, with my adrenalin running a marathon through my body. I concentrate so thoroughly it's a wonder my head doesn't explode.
So I'll focus, focus, focus. Leave one meeting room for a presentation in another. Then lunch, then more meetings, presentations, until evening, when I pack up my books and head home.
I'll be shaking with fatigue. I know that ahead of time. Last Saturday was no exception, as I enjoyed myself thoroughly at a readers group tea. Books were traded and I came home with six. So many books, so little time. I shook all the way home and when I finally got into the house, I peeled off my clothes and put on my nightgown. Bedtime was very early.
So, this is my plan for Saturday. Prepare ahead of time, expect the traffic to be horrible, focus on all the presentations, meet other authors and wanna-be authors, enjoy myself and then pack up and head home.
No doubt I'll be shaking about half-way through the conference. Not visibly, no. Just an unsteadiness on my feet (note to self: wear sturdy shoes. To heck with trying to look fashionable.) and an inner trembling that gets my attention. I'll come home, peel off my clothes and put on my nightgown. Bedtime very early.
Not exactly a writer's glamorous life, huh?
But I wouldn't miss it for the world. "Ya pays your money and ya takes your choice." I'm prepared to pay for this adventure with a couple of days of feeling lousy and fatigued.
That's the way my lupie world works. How about yours?
I've also created a three-page "flyer" to insert in each book, listing all my books, along with a business card.
So I'm taking things slowly, being organized, so I won't have to rush around on Friday night, looking for things.
Yet I'm a bit apprehensive. It's about a 40 minute drive, in heavy traffic, and I need to register around 8:00 AM. Knowing my body as I do, I will arrive kind of frazzled from doing battle with other cars/trucks/buses on the Interstate.
Then there comes the setting up of my books in The Bookstore at the venue, where I don't have to be there to sell my books; instead, others will be present to take the credit cards/money, etc, so I can feel free to attend the speakers' presentations.
So far, what's the problem? I hear you ask.
Well, I'm the kind of person who goes "all out" in learning something from a writers conference. Talking to others "of my kind" (authors) is a real "high" for me, with my adrenalin running a marathon through my body. I concentrate so thoroughly it's a wonder my head doesn't explode.
So I'll focus, focus, focus. Leave one meeting room for a presentation in another. Then lunch, then more meetings, presentations, until evening, when I pack up my books and head home.
I'll be shaking with fatigue. I know that ahead of time. Last Saturday was no exception, as I enjoyed myself thoroughly at a readers group tea. Books were traded and I came home with six. So many books, so little time. I shook all the way home and when I finally got into the house, I peeled off my clothes and put on my nightgown. Bedtime was very early.
So, this is my plan for Saturday. Prepare ahead of time, expect the traffic to be horrible, focus on all the presentations, meet other authors and wanna-be authors, enjoy myself and then pack up and head home.
No doubt I'll be shaking about half-way through the conference. Not visibly, no. Just an unsteadiness on my feet (note to self: wear sturdy shoes. To heck with trying to look fashionable.) and an inner trembling that gets my attention. I'll come home, peel off my clothes and put on my nightgown. Bedtime very early.
Not exactly a writer's glamorous life, huh?
But I wouldn't miss it for the world. "Ya pays your money and ya takes your choice." I'm prepared to pay for this adventure with a couple of days of feeling lousy and fatigued.
That's the way my lupie world works. How about yours?
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