Decisions, decisions

I’m so tired of having to make them.

10 years ago, the weightiest decision I had to make was which party I was going to go to.  I mean, seriously people, that was a MAJOR conundrum.  The guys at the Farm were always way hotter but the guys at the House of Big Decks always had free beer…what a quandry!

If you’d told me then that at age 31, I’d be on a medication that’s a low dose of chemo, another one that’s really bad for because it can kill bones and other things, and deciding between two different treatments that are both 8K-10K per year…I would’ve smiled at you, turned away, rolled my eyes as far back in my head as possible, called you crazy and went back to my beer.

What a difference ten years makes!

At my follow-up with my rheumy on Thursday, they approached me about another study.  Yes, I’m supposed to start Orencia last week. Actually, I was supposed to start it beginning of December. But who’s keeping track! I had it scheduled and everything.  But the insurance verification trolls made me delay it yet again.  SO FRUSTRATING.

Anyways, it’s a Phase 3 study by Eli Lilly for a yet unnamed drug that’s showing a lot of promise.  For the first six months, you get either one of two different dosages OR the placebo.  After the first six months, everyone gets the drug for five years. It’s self injectable every two weeks and would require me to stop by the doctor’s office once a month to pick up the injections.

In all honesty, my first response was HECK no.  I saw no benefit for me with the first study I did.  I’m certainly not going to stay on Prednisone for five years- you are batsh*t crazy if you think that’s going to happen. BUT, after reading on the new Lilly drug, learning that you can taper off of Prednisone during the study and doing math on how it would help me financially to not have to pay for co-pays, x-rays, labs, or meds for five years as well as five years of not having to fight with that douchewad known as Blue Cross Blue Shield….well, that right there is something to think about.

The fact that it’s less of a time commitment (on paper) than Orencia and the fact that after the first six months, I’m guaranteed to be on the drug…that’s even more to think about.

I’m torn but leaning towards doing it. I think many of us would say that new medications are scary, not from the side effects, but from the ‘what am I going to do if this doesn’t work?’  It took awhile but I had originally married myself to the idea of being on Actemra. Then my doctor wanted to wait on that and try Orencia first.  I was upset about that until I read more about it and finally agreed with him.  So now I’m married to the idea of being on Orencia.  And now that’s maybe going to change too.

It’s just scary. I think my doctor could see it on my face when we were talking about it.  I got quiet (which doesn’t happen often) and he just looked at me and pointed out that all the drugs that have made it to Phase III in the past 10 years have been very successful.

So now I feel like I’m kinda back to square one without a plan.  Also, I feel more than a little bit jerked around by the insurance trolls.

Am I really old enough and smart enough to be making these kinds of decisions???

It really doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

What’s next

It was a beautiful day here today and I treated myself to an hour long walk through the park and my neighborhood.

I have to bribe myself to walk lately- I think a summer of laying on my rear thanks to a flare has killed my motivation.  A couple weeks ago I figured out how to stream Pandora radio on my phone (my Ipod is MIA).  So I type in ‘old school rap’ and walk through the neighborhood repressing my urge to start dancing and feeling like a badass.  A badass who limps.

Can I please call that my pimp gimp?

Anyways, I was almost home this afternoon and a good song came on which necessitated an extra lap around the block.  Because, you know, it’s just not as much fun to listen to a good song sitting still!  In the course of that extra block, my left knee and left foot decided to mutiny.

I still haven’t been able to figure out how I can go from just fine to noticeably swollen in a matter of minutes.  It’s cruel.  It’s also evidence to me that I’m still having a lot of disease activity…

I have my last drug study appointment tomorrow.  I will find out what medication I’ve been on although I already am convinced that I’m on the placebo.  Why, you ask?  Because it hasn’t done a damn thing for me.  I feel like I’ve felt before- on the receding end of a really bad flare.  I remember how I felt the first time I took Humira and while I don’t expect to feel such a difference everytime, I would expect to feel improvement.  And I haven’t.  So…the drug study wasn’t beneficial but it also wasn’t harmful.

So what’s next?  My doctor wants to look at infusions. Specifically Remicade.  I want to try Enbrel first for a couple of reasons.  It would be so much easier for me to inject myself once a week than to go for a periodic three hour infusion.  Infusion therapy also really scares me.  I don’t want to try it until I’ve exhausted all easier resources.  I realize that sounds silly.

I’m a little frustrated.  From a lab-work perspective, my doctor says “you look great.”  I’m still seronegative which baffles me but my doctor doesn’t seem to think that is significant.  My CRP has dropped.  On paper, everything is better.  But physically, I’m still not where I was months ago.  My feet and knees are still bothering me.  My shoulder is too.  Remember that hellishly awful joint aspiration awhile back?  That ended up being a bust. Finger= just as swollen as it was before.  The fatigue is better but the nausea can still be a tad bit on the ridiculous side.  I’ve always had a sensitive stomach but it’s getting to be a running joke with my friends.  And if a certain coworker makes one more pregnancy/morning sickness joke, I may need help hiding a body.

Stay tuned- I will be sure to let you know if (when) I’m right about the drug I’ve been receiving and what the plans moving forward will be.

Blah…

You know the drill…

You’re starting to feel better.  You sleep in gloriously late on a Saturday morning and wake up to think about a date you had the night before. No, he’s not Mr. Right.  Hell, he’s not even a contender for Mr. Right Now.  But it was nice to have a good looking guy WANT to buy you a glass of wine and listen to you prattle on about mundane details of your life.  Except he’s really really boring.  So you sigh, mentally file him back in the Rolodex, roll over, and sleep for another half an hour.

You get up and you feel no better but also no worse than usual.  You’re okay with that.  You proceed to spend the next 3 hours laying on the couch watching movies and playing online.  You finally get off your butt to go do one of your most favorite things in the world: MASSAGE!!!!

You spend an hour getting pampered and relaxed.  An added bonus is that thunderstorm that comes along in the middle of it- thunder and the sound of rain always relaxes you so this just makes awesome more awesome.  It even makes you forget that, as always, you really need to shave your legs.

You leave the massage and hit up two more favorites: PEDICURE!  SHOPPING!  Afterwards, you pick up some junk food in preparation for movie night at your place with friends.  You’re actually having a really good day.

And then something (usually stupid and usually trivial) happens that reminds you about your RA and it completely ruins the rest of your day.

On Friday, it was the receptionist at my rheumatologist’s office who pissed me off so much that I found myself mad at my rheumatologist, which then made me mad at my old rheumatologist in SC, which then made me hate rheumatology in general.  At that point in time, I was suddenly morally obligated to ABANDON THE PATRONAGE OF ALL RHEUMATOLOGISTS EVERYWHERE so I called a naturopathic doctor I’m trying to get in with only to realize it was completely out of my budget so I then hated all naturopathic doctors too, and then I started thinking about insurance companies…

It is a vicious cycle that only makes me feel like I’ve lost something all over again.

Oh yes, and psycho.

On Saturday, it was seeing people running in my neighborhood.  I know that most people see people running and think “oh, they’re being so healthy.”  But I sometimes look at them and think they’re taunting me.  Stupid runners with your stupid healthy joints and your annoying ipods. And you- YOU- in the pink shorts with the blond ponytail and the HOT shirtless guy…I despise you.  I bet you have those fabulous heels I drooled over today.  You know, the ones that I am physically incapable of wearing.  IT IS SO NOT FAIR- THOSE SHOULD BE MY SHOES.

Like I said, psycho.  P-S-Y-C-H-O.

For the record, I did not verbalize these thoughts.

I continually come back to this overwhelming feeling about just how unfair this whole disease is for me.  For all of us.  Even when I’m feeling better, even when I have a million things going on that are positive, I just can’t shake it.

On the wrong side of the karma stick

I may have purposely forgotten to mention that I may have been a little rough on one of the nurses at my rheumatologist’s office last week.

I may have been a little frustrated that it took them 2 days to return an urgent call.  I may have been more frustrated because it takes at least 2 days to get a response on anything from them.  A two day turn around on a random question is gray area (in my opinion); a two day turn around on an urgent question is never acceptable (in my opinion).

I may have spoken a little harshly with the nurse who had the misfortune of calling me back after I left a second message asking for a response.  Perhaps a little more harshly than was warranted for said situation and definitely too harsh based on  the fact that she really was taking the time to try to understand what I was asking and trying to help me.

I may have been a complete brat and she definitely didn’t deserve that. As soon as I hung up the phone, I felt awful.

Enter karma.

At my appointment yesterday, I may have had my labs drawn by….you guessed it…the nurse who I was not terribly nice to on the phone.

I was immediately embarrassed and told her I was sorry for how I spoke to her on Friday.  That I was really frustrated but it was no excuse for me to talk to anyone that way, let alone someone who was trying to help me.

She was super nice about it, said she understood why I was frustrated and not to worry about it.

And then…don’t you see this coming…she got to go fishing in my arms.

No, I know she didn’t do it on purpose.  My veins just like to roll.  This is not the first time this has happened and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Complete suckage yet simultaneously totally hysterical.

Moral of the story: Don’t yell at people who may have to stick needles in you.

Duh.

A New One For Those Keeping Tally

Excuse the language.  Or if it bothers you, just skip this entry. I’m still a little upset.

“No, I don’t run anymore because I have Rheumatoid Arthritis.”

Momentary awkward pause while his hot little brain mulled this tidbit over.

“But…but…but you’re so pretty…”

Blink.

Swallow.

Vein twitch.

ARE YOU A F*CKING IDIOT?

At what point do you think that something like that would affect me having or not having RA or anything else for that matter?

Do you think immune systems ‘immuno-select’ who gets these things based on how people look or how much is in a bank account or what their last name is?

DID YOU FALL AND HIT YOUR HEAD ON CONCRETE?

That argument has just as much validity as you being very honest and telling me that “I’m dumb as a brick” and me responding with a whiny “but you look like an Abercrombie model.”

And what do I say to something like that? Um, thanks?  I think?

That’s almost as offensive as telling someone who’s lost 2 pounds that they look “SO MUCH BETTER.”

Really?

I mean  SERIOUSLY?

Seriously?

Can you at least follow it up with a well placed question like maybe ask me what RA is?  Anything? I realize that would ask an awful lot of the gerbil running the wheel in your head but just leaving it at that and then uncomfortably staring at me makes you look like Lord of the Douche, getting ready to do a little jig for me, and makes me feel awful about myself.

Yes, I know Mom.  I know I am being rude here.  You’re right- I was raised better than that.  No, please don’t give me the guilt trippy “I’ve raised horrible children” speech.  You’ve made that point numerous times in my life and I forgive you for making me so mean sometimes.  (I kid.) Yes, I will make sure to let everyone know that you sent me to Cotillion.  Twice.  Yes, I know it was expensive and I’m not entirely sure it was money well spent. Yes, I think you’re right that  maybe his parents didn’t send him because maybe (gasp) they didn’t think it was important.

I’d like to point out that it is YOUR daughter here, valedictorian of Cotillion, who is posting f-bombs online.

But seriously, “you’re so pretty?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Tequila is gluten free.

So yes, that’s pretty much my big take away from the weekend that started early Saturday morning with a shot of Toradol in my ass.  We’ll get to that in a moment….

Have you seen the movie Mean Girls?  It’s one of my favorite movies- snarky, hilarious and very well written (in my opinion).  If you haven’t seen it, in one of the plot lines, Cady is trying to sabotage Regina by telling her she should go on an all carb diet to lose weight.  Regina, not the brightest crayon in the box, keeps holding up items of food and asking “is butter a carb?” or “is bread a carb?”

So yes, that’s kind of how I feel right now grocery shopping.  It’s taking me forever and I literally read every package to see if it’s gluten free or not.  If I can’t tell by packaging, I whip out my trusty Blackberry and google “is rice gluten free?” I’m sure it’s pretty funny if you see it in action- me staring with a vacant, blank, confused stare intently at what is for most people a very simple package of food.  I’m sure it’s even funnier if you know much about my cooking style which I’m pretty sure I’ve alluded to here on multiple occasions.

Welcome to my home.  Allow me to heat you a wonderfully fresh gourmet Lean Cuisine.

But I’m slowly getting there.  I’m still cheating…but not as much…and have found a couple of things I really like.  I’ve found some items that are gluten free that really surprised me- TEQUILA and rice.  I even made a delicious Lentil casserole tonight.  And with that statement, somewhere, somehow, an angel got its wings.

I was being overly ambitious thinking I could go gluten and dairy free at the same time.  In fact, that’s what I was cheating with most often (I sprinkle a little bit of cheese everywhere- feta on eggs, cheddar on salads etc- and the soy cheese was awful.)  So I’m going back to baby steps- gluten free first.

So, about that shot in the ass….

I’ve give you the short version for now.

–  I went to a friend’s 30th birthday party on Friday night.  I rested all week for it, bought a new dress, and was really excited.

– Friday am, in true RA form, after a few days of feeling a little bit better, RA decided to make things more interesting.

– Things were so interesting Friday night midway through dinner that I left early.  I am still embarrassed- I tried to leave quietly but everyone asked why I was leaving and I had to give a bit more info than I wanted to at that time, especially to people who for the most part I don’t know.

– Saturday morning I woke up and things RA wise felt curiously differently.  By curiously different I mean REALLY EFFING AWFUL.  I wound up going to Urgent Care in tears, getting a shot of Toradol and prescriptions for another Medrol pack and Vicodin.

If I ever have children, they will be named Toradol and Vicodin.  For real.

That afternoon my neighbor, who witnessed my early morning emotional breakdown in the parking lot, came over to check on me.

Neighbor: So, how ya feeling Rockstar?

Me: A little better. Tired.  Sore.

Neighbor:  (chuckling) You must’ve had quite a night.

Me: (annoyed stare)

Neighbor: Ok, if you don’t want to talk about it…was it that bad?  Was he old or was he just not hot?

Me: (finally getting what she thought had happened) No, I was not drunk.  No, I was not walk of shaming home in tears.

I appreciate that though.  That’s awesome.

I would really like for my insurance company to hurry the heck up and approve this new medication.  Like immediately.

This flare is really getting to me.

I finally got into the doctor on Thursday.  

“Dr. D, I’m having inflammation and pain in new joints.”

“Like which ones?”

“Um, how does that kids song go?  Oh right, HEAD, SHOULDERS, KNEES AND TOES, KNEES AND  TOES. Ok, maybe not head but also wrists, hips and fingers. And also, I am unable to comfortably do the movements to the aforementioned children’s song right now.”

“Hmmm, and on our last visit I thought you were really starting to show improvement.”

“Sure.”

He examined me and agreed that things have really regressed.  We are pricing out two options with my insurance company- either Remicade or Actemra- and hope to have a final decision made later in the week.

“Is there anything else I can take in the interim?  I’m really having a hard time functioning?”

“Are you not taking the Tramadol I called in for you last week?”

“No, I do not take pain medicine.”  

Yes, you read that correctly. I believe that pain is a good warning sign.  I don’t want to NOT feel pain and then do something that would end up hurting me more.  My pain is caused by inflammation- I want something to treat the inflammation. Does that make sense?  

You should probably also know that I worked in a pain control clinic for two summers in college that coincided with the debut of Oxycontin.   Best job ever for two reasons: HOT RESIDENTS who invited me to attend ‘liver rounds’ with them on Thursday evenings and a handful of our patients were so nuts that I never had a boring day. So even though I may joke about pain meds and laugh about the potential of medicinal marijuana for RA patients, I’m actually pretty adamantly against it on a personal level.   I do realize that I am most likely in a different league of patient than what we saw there: our worst drug seeker was the alcoholic who passed out drunk on the train tracks and lost his legs.  True story- only in the south….

“Well, I don’t want to give you anymore Prednisone- I know you don’t like taking it and I know the problems you’ve had in the past weaning off of it.”

“I’m not asking for Prednisone.  It’s just that I’m taking x Aleve a day to get any relief from the inflammation and I don’t think it’s good for me.”  (imagine eyes bulging out of his head and no, I’m not willing to admit the number but let’s just say there’s a limit in the PDR about how many you can safely take in a day and my intake matched just that.)

So he put me on Mobic.  Not really a fun of it but my stomach likes it better.

I stopped at the vending area to get a Coke before my bloodwork because I didn’t have any breakfast and really thought that passing out during/after bloodwork would be pretty sucktastic.  While I was there, I got to peek into the infusion center.  I was actually pretty impressed- it looked like a “real” infusion center, not like a doctor’s office infusion center.  

Bloodwork was a breeze as usual and I was out the door fifteen minutes later.

I’m feeling a little better tonight after 2 days of good rest, good food, and some serious quality time in the hot tub and steam room at the gym.

And now it’s raining so I think it’s time for me to get in bed and enjoy the sound!

Just a few thoughts on a Sunday

This is random and scattered.  Just a warning!

-I got my bill for my joint aspiration last month on Friday.  All in all, total cost of aspiration was about $400, most of which was covered by my insurance.  That’s a miracle.  Especially since it was coded as “in office surgery.” If I’d known I was having “surgery,” I would’ve made some special requests.  Namely that awesome laughing gas I received when they took my wisdom teeth.  

– I went to church with friends this morning.  I’m a bit of a church snob because my grandfather is a Methodist minister.  Let’s just say that Granddad would be none too impressed that I went in jeans and flip flops.  I was kinda weirded out by that too but with how my feet feel lately, flip flops are amazing.  Anyway, the pastor was talking about financial freedom and about how he’s not trying to tell us what to purchase and what not to purchase but rather that we need to make decisions that give us freedom from debt.  So I was bored (I know, it’s wrong to say I was bored at church…but I was) and started thinking about if there are any choices I could make that would give me freedom from RA.  Not freedom by not having it (trying to be realistic here) but freedom by marginalizing it, by “putting Baby in the corner.”  

I realize that I need to make better choices about my health.  I live how I live until I flare and then I get all self righteously indignant on how “I had a salad last week dang-it and it sure did have  lot of veggies and I chose the LOW FAT dressing too because that is how terribly committed I am to my health.”  But come on Amanda: if you were as terribly committed to taking better care of yourself as you say you are when you’re flaring, you would’ve had that salad chock full of veggies more recently than last week!

I do realize there are other things that factor into flares but with this one, I am my own worst enemy.  I am very successful at making dietary changes….for about two weeks.

And before I turn people off by appearing to be anything close to deep or broading, I will tell you that I got the silly giggles during the last song (hymn? is it still called a hymn in a contemporary setting?) when everyone around me was swaying with eyes closed and hands in the air.  

-And finally, you know you’re taking Prednisone when you walk in to pay for your gas and find yourself lustfully eyeing everything “Little Debbie.”  OMG Zebra Cakes.

Back on prednisone

Why hello to you too, my sworn frenemy.

I love and hate you equally.

I love you because you will give me some relief until my rheumy can get me into to his first available appointment…in June.  (Don’t get me started.)

I hate you because …..well crap, I hate you considerably more than I love you.

I hate you because I only take you when I feel like absolute poo.

I hate you because you prove that it IS indeed possible to gain a lot of weight when you have absolutely no appetite.

I hate you because you make my skin crawl and give me night sweats.

I hate you because you make Aunt Flo come early and give me crazy mood swings. 

Addendum: My coworkers hate you for that second part. And my mom.  And the poor customer service reps at my insurance company.  But let’s be honest- I really don’t care about the feelings of my insurance company, prednisone or not.

I hate you so much that everytime my doctor mentions putting me on you, I cry.

*************************************************************************

Hello frenemy #2.

I do not hate you at all because on Saturday, you will meet YOUR sworn frenemies- full foils and bleach.

Joint Aspiration Follow-Up

The joint aspiration of my left pointer finger occurred approximately a week and a half ago.  

Here are some pre and post pictures for you.

What my left pointer finger typically looks like:

What my left pointer finger looked like immediately post medical assault (note the red puncture marks on the left side, sexy RA nodule on the right):

What my left pointer finger looked like 5 days post medical assault:

Doesn’t it look so different from before?  Doesn’t it look so much better?

Yes, I don’t think so either.  Moving on…

And then, on Thurs (about 9 days after) something happened.

I was sitting at my computer typing when I realized that typing didn’t hurt me.  Not even a little bit!  I looked down…

Hello almost normal sized left pointer finger joint!  How are you?  I haven’t seen you in ages…like 4 years.  Have you lost weight?  Because I recall you looking like a sausage and now you’re rather hot dog like.  You look GREAT! I am ECSTATIC to see you!

Having an almost normal sized joint in that finger is both a blessing and a burden.  I’m very self conscious about how it looks when it’s so swollen so the blessing is to have it looking normalish right now.  It’s a burden because at normal size, I have more of an idea of what I’m dealing with in terms of loss of use and joint destruction.  

I still can’t bend it all the way.

Nor can I fully straighten it.

It just kinda hangs there, somewhat useless.

What usually feels so swollen now just feels weak.

The nodule looks like it’s gone but I can still see it when I bend the finger.

I’m not sure if it can be ‘rehabbed’ at all or not.  I may not be able to straighten it because I have absolutely no muscle tone left.  That I can fix.  I may not be able to straighten it because I have so much joint damage.  That I cannot.  I think that it’s most likely the second option but when I go back to the rheumatologist in a few weeks, I plan on asking.

I’ve had a few pity parties the past few days over the thought of having that much joint damage but I guess it just is what it is.  If I hadn’t had the aspiration, it would’ve continued to be swollen and it would’ve continued to erode the joint.  And when the joint was so swollen, it was basically useless to me anyway.  Which means I shouldn’t be upset about it but really doesn’t make it any easier to look down at it and seeing it looking almost normal yet not capable of doing what  I need it to do.