I was digging through my older entries and realized that most of my flares happen in fall - August or September, to be specific. Since I'm feeling crabby, I'm tempted to blame them on my inability to deal with (or warm to, heh) the Texas heat, but it's a phenomenon that started before A. and I moved here. It's possible I don't deal well with any heat? Or perhaps there's something about fall that sets my gut a-squirming. Season of change? Forgotten back-to-school jitters? The harvest moon?
Things have gotten quieter on the intestinal front, but there's still some delightful cramping and blood going on. In addition, my thinking is getting typically insular, my vision is tunneling, and my fingers are dried out and wrinkly from too many trips to the bathroom and the subsequent required handwashings. I am eating homemade chicken soup (the real kind, not my cheap-ass speciality). I am throwing all my meds down the hatch. I am contemplating calling the damn doctor, who will be sure to put me the Devil Pred. This is all eerily reminiscent of last year, when I finally finished the damn taper at the end of October.
Hmph. Stupid flare. Stupid Pred. Stupid everything.
Showing posts with label aches n pains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aches n pains. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
TMI TMI oh TMI, my TMI
Note the subject, okay? There will be copious amounts of menstruation discussion seeping all throughout this post.
The first day of my most recent period felt like I was being disemboweled with one of those hand-crankin' old fashioned apple peelers. I've had some beastly days before, sure, but this was the first one in a while where the uterus crampings seemed to be using my large intestine as an amplifier. (One that goes to eleven. At least, mine do.)
I couldn't figure out what to do. So I slipped into the weird, slow-crawling routine that I generally assume whenever I have a flare: I took my UC meds as ordered. I drank a lot of mint tea and water. I took very small steps when I walked. I took Tylenol - sparingly. I used a heating pad. I chilled after work on the couch.
In fact, nothing really worked. The Tylenol kicked in briefly and wore off quickly. At one point, I was worried that I had some sort of surprise perforation or toxic megacolon or something else horrifying, because my belly was bloating and stiff as a board. In addition to chilling in general, I tried a lot of deep, calming, relaxing breathing, which didn't work too well; at the end of the second day in, my shoulders were stiffer than my belly.
Then, on the afternoon of day three, the pain dwindled and disappeared. The period, of course, continued merrily along with minimal fuss and cramps. At no point did I see any blood out the back door, although it can be hard to tell when you're flaring and menstruating simultaneously. Naturally I was happy to be feeling better, but I'm still frustrated as to how to prepare for such a sudden assault the next time it occurs. That's the thing about having ulcerative colitis - at least, in my case. Even if one is in remission with successful ongoing treatment or medication or what have you, there is always a next time.
So, in the infernal internal equation of hellacious period + ulcerative colitis - riding it out like a champ, what's a lady in pain to do?
...
The Answer: homemade shortbread. Always shortbread, dears. With weak tea.
Scotch Shortbread
From The Fanny Farmer Baking Book, published in 1984.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Beat 2 sticks (1 cup) of butter until smooth and creamy. Add 2/3 cups of confectioner's sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract, and beat well. Stir and sift together 2 cups flour and 1/4 tsp salt, then add to butter mixture and beat until completely mixed.
On a lightly floured surface, turn out the dough. You can prepare the cookies in multiple ways, by rolling out in a sheet 1/2-inch thick and cutting with a cookie cutter, or by rolling up the dough in a log and slicing 1/2-inch cookies off. Also suggested is to pat the dough into a round pie pan, bake, then cut into wedges like pie pieces when serving. Place cookies about 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheets, prick 3 times with a fork, and bake for about 20 minutes or until cookies have barely browned around the edges. Don't over bake; they should not be completely brown. Remove and cool on a rack.
Enjoy the buttery goodness, perhaps with an episode of Downton Abbey or other Masterpiece Theatre delights. I'm currently watching the looong miniseries The Jewel in the Crown. Shortbread definitely helps. Although Art Malik is quite entrancing, and there are lots of familiar faces sprinkled throughout.
(If you don't know how to make weak tea, well. Try hard.)
The first day of my most recent period felt like I was being disemboweled with one of those hand-crankin' old fashioned apple peelers. I've had some beastly days before, sure, but this was the first one in a while where the uterus crampings seemed to be using my large intestine as an amplifier. (One that goes to eleven. At least, mine do.)
I couldn't figure out what to do. So I slipped into the weird, slow-crawling routine that I generally assume whenever I have a flare: I took my UC meds as ordered. I drank a lot of mint tea and water. I took very small steps when I walked. I took Tylenol - sparingly. I used a heating pad. I chilled after work on the couch.
In fact, nothing really worked. The Tylenol kicked in briefly and wore off quickly. At one point, I was worried that I had some sort of surprise perforation or toxic megacolon or something else horrifying, because my belly was bloating and stiff as a board. In addition to chilling in general, I tried a lot of deep, calming, relaxing breathing, which didn't work too well; at the end of the second day in, my shoulders were stiffer than my belly.
Then, on the afternoon of day three, the pain dwindled and disappeared. The period, of course, continued merrily along with minimal fuss and cramps. At no point did I see any blood out the back door, although it can be hard to tell when you're flaring and menstruating simultaneously. Naturally I was happy to be feeling better, but I'm still frustrated as to how to prepare for such a sudden assault the next time it occurs. That's the thing about having ulcerative colitis - at least, in my case. Even if one is in remission with successful ongoing treatment or medication or what have you, there is always a next time.
So, in the infernal internal equation of hellacious period + ulcerative colitis - riding it out like a champ, what's a lady in pain to do?
...
The Answer: homemade shortbread. Always shortbread, dears. With weak tea.
Scotch Shortbread
From The Fanny Farmer Baking Book, published in 1984.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Beat 2 sticks (1 cup) of butter until smooth and creamy. Add 2/3 cups of confectioner's sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract, and beat well. Stir and sift together 2 cups flour and 1/4 tsp salt, then add to butter mixture and beat until completely mixed.
On a lightly floured surface, turn out the dough. You can prepare the cookies in multiple ways, by rolling out in a sheet 1/2-inch thick and cutting with a cookie cutter, or by rolling up the dough in a log and slicing 1/2-inch cookies off. Also suggested is to pat the dough into a round pie pan, bake, then cut into wedges like pie pieces when serving. Place cookies about 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheets, prick 3 times with a fork, and bake for about 20 minutes or until cookies have barely browned around the edges. Don't over bake; they should not be completely brown. Remove and cool on a rack.
Enjoy the buttery goodness, perhaps with an episode of Downton Abbey or other Masterpiece Theatre delights. I'm currently watching the looong miniseries The Jewel in the Crown. Shortbread definitely helps. Although Art Malik is quite entrancing, and there are lots of familiar faces sprinkled throughout.
(If you don't know how to make weak tea, well. Try hard.)
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Pain, anyone?
Courtesy of my friend Sandy, here's a thought-provoking article from the New York Times Magazine about chronic pain and medications.
Monday, June 18, 2007
They'll fix you. They fix everything.
I watched Robocop last night, and the excessive violence and Ronny Cox managed to jam my digestion somewhere around the descending colon. A. tried to rub my back, and I did some stretches, but to no avail. This is really one of those interesting things about ulcerative colitis, and I believe it can show up with other digestive disorders, namely, the back pain. The last time I had major back pain, it was a herald for the ER flare. I did not get it, then. I didn't understand that the best thing to ride out a flare with is loads of water, sleep, light-light-light food and absolutely no stress. Ha.
It took me three days of struggling through work, coming home to loll on the couch with a heating pad, and spilling broth A. made me before I drove my ass down there, parked illegally and got a gallon of morphine.
Man, I'm as badass as Murphy. Or Lewis. They're both pretty tough.
Call me moronic, but I love that movie. Even better is (was?) the edited for television cut, with such FCC-appropriate gems as:
"You just finked with the wrong guy!"
and
"Ladies, leave." (original line: Bitches, leave. Why, Clarence! You've grown gentlemanly!)
and
"You're outta your freauhking mind!"
I wish you could buy edited-for-TV movies, just for the sheer hilarity.
But I do love that movie, even more so after being diagnosed, because though there might not be much comparison between a robotic cop and a library science student with ulcerative colitis, the idea of trading some of my organs for plastic or metal parts because I just won't survive or work right without them, well, we are somewhat alike. And that's my poor analogy for the day.
Plus, the fake news and commercials! Hilarious!
As for the back pain, that may be attributed to the pile of cherry slices candy I ate last night while watching the show. But you never know. I'll be watching this back pain closely, this time.
It took me three days of struggling through work, coming home to loll on the couch with a heating pad, and spilling broth A. made me before I drove my ass down there, parked illegally and got a gallon of morphine.
Man, I'm as badass as Murphy. Or Lewis. They're both pretty tough.
Call me moronic, but I love that movie. Even better is (was?) the edited for television cut, with such FCC-appropriate gems as:
"You just finked with the wrong guy!"
and
"Ladies, leave." (original line: Bitches, leave. Why, Clarence! You've grown gentlemanly!)
and
"You're outta your freauhking mind!"
I wish you could buy edited-for-TV movies, just for the sheer hilarity.
But I do love that movie, even more so after being diagnosed, because though there might not be much comparison between a robotic cop and a library science student with ulcerative colitis, the idea of trading some of my organs for plastic or metal parts because I just won't survive or work right without them, well, we are somewhat alike. And that's my poor analogy for the day.
Plus, the fake news and commercials! Hilarious!
As for the back pain, that may be attributed to the pile of cherry slices candy I ate last night while watching the show. But you never know. I'll be watching this back pain closely, this time.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Not last night but the night before.
Day one:
I seem to be losing some necessary function of my right leg. It feels like something stretched, or that I slept on it wrong. When I hobble around a bit to accommodate it, I appear to have an ever-lovin' stick up my ass.
The hobble makes for some Cherry Darling comparisons. (I could take that as a compliment, I guess. Hot Rose McGowan! Zombie-smashing abilities!) The pain itself begins with a dull ache in the morning, high in the pelvis and inner thigh and then worsens steadily throughout the day, whether I sit or walk.
By late evening, the ache spreads down to my calf and I start thinking about Shadowlands and horrible virulent bone-eating cancers. Hot water does not help. Elevating it or reclining does not help. Stretching the leg produces varied results between uncomfortable and relaxing, but ultimately does nothing for the pain.
It is not anywhere near excruciating or anything like that; it is just constant. Since I don't have a machine gun or Anthony Hopkin's pursed chilly affections, I'd rather have my leg back.
Day two:
Maybe I am just getting old?
Day three: (today)
It's baaaaaaaaack.
Side effect of medication, poor sleeping position, or maybe end-of-semester insanity?
I seem to be losing some necessary function of my right leg. It feels like something stretched, or that I slept on it wrong. When I hobble around a bit to accommodate it, I appear to have an ever-lovin' stick up my ass.
The hobble makes for some Cherry Darling comparisons. (I could take that as a compliment, I guess. Hot Rose McGowan! Zombie-smashing abilities!) The pain itself begins with a dull ache in the morning, high in the pelvis and inner thigh and then worsens steadily throughout the day, whether I sit or walk.
By late evening, the ache spreads down to my calf and I start thinking about Shadowlands and horrible virulent bone-eating cancers. Hot water does not help. Elevating it or reclining does not help. Stretching the leg produces varied results between uncomfortable and relaxing, but ultimately does nothing for the pain.
It is not anywhere near excruciating or anything like that; it is just constant. Since I don't have a machine gun or Anthony Hopkin's pursed chilly affections, I'd rather have my leg back.
Day two:
Maybe I am just getting old?
Day three: (today)
It's baaaaaaaaack.
Side effect of medication, poor sleeping position, or maybe end-of-semester insanity?
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