Tag Archives: Vicodin

Food.Tired.Sleep.Banana.

I’m staying home from work today.  I feel like P. Diddy.  I brused my teeth with a bottle of Jack.  So long as I’m going to be drunk in the mornings, I might as well take up drinking, eh?  Alcohol will kill whatever I got.

My head and eyes are swollen and my brain can only be described as having some activity on the seismic scale.  When I walk it feels like my body parts are not communicating with each other.  I’m going back to sleep after breaking my fast and watching Dr. Oz (which is not my cup of tea). I swear I’m going to lose all the Oprah and Oz fans if I come clean on my view of them.  I kid, Oz isn’t so bad…  Oprah is.

Usually, I scramble and search for the point in time where I went wrong to set off severe symptoms.  I’m trying to learn not to blame myself for something I did, I ate, I took, and later ended up knocked down.  I can’t prevent from causing every single flare no matter how much money I spend on organic food, how many pee-tasting potions I drink, or how much I deny my cats hugs and kisses (mildly allergic).  Buuut I’m stubborn and still chastise myself when I ‘think’ I know what I did.  Still beating my self up for the Vicodin I took yesterday.

My husband knows more about painkillers and medicines than half the doctors that are getting shut down in Florida do.  He warned me and was adorably vigilant in the way I took them.  I took them as needed, and only half.  But after taking them awhile, their effectiveness wears off and the moods begin to wobble.  I was desperate yesterday. I’ve read that Lupsters end up paying hard if they don’t manage stress and sleep like handling a Faberge egg. I haven’t slept well in 3 days (out of discomfort and/or missing my ‘body pillow’), was in pain, and tried to re-do the spare room without help, but I knew I had to make it to work today. Mmm hmm. Not gonna happen.  Being knocked out by the pill sure lessened the morning pain, I woke up okay in that department.  But I woke up sad and crying.  For no reason.  Watching Dr. Oz here on the screen, he would say that my dreams were subconsciously telling me there is something wrong in my life.  Ya think?  But he would need to be given the proper intel: narcs change your brain chemistry, Doc. Simple.

Once I called in sick, after much deliberation and harassing my sister via text and leaving Husband messages for when he wakes up in Miami about how I wanna make that money to get a food processor and need to be at work and the world was going to fall apart if I didn’t go assist administratively, it was like I finally had that cosmo and I relaxed.  My body is tired and stressed.  And for someone who has an inflammation and an oxidative stress disease, I’m attending my full-time job way too much.

I continue beating myself up and telling myself I need to save my time off for the chiropractor, for the rheumy doc, and maybe indulge the idea that I can take a real vacation day soon.  Trying to reason with yourself when your brain ironically would rather sing Ke$ha songs to protect you from hurting yourself… is not a good idea.  Take that dollar-sign from the universe and stay home.  Don’t I always say pay attention to your body?  I’m the first to admit I that taking your own advice is harder than pooping with someone standing outside the door.

The benefit of today: I had a real breakfast.  I ditched Quaker for a new man, Bob’s Red Mill Rolled Oats that all these hippies are talking about.  Quaker has never claimed to be gluten-free and there’s risk of cross-contamination.  And yes, they we’re much fresher tasting and yummier than the processed ones.  Soymilk, a monkey-sized banana, blueberries, and  quarter-sized dollop of peanut butter.

So, here’s what I was working on writing last night before my brain started to party in its skull:

This draft was supposed to be an I CANT HAVE PIZZA rant.  By the time I’m ready to post it, the winds of food have changed.  Brownies are too sweet, fast food seems so plastic-y, and I put the ice cream right back in the freezer after having two sorry spoonfuls.  I don’t even know who I am anymore, but I’m crushing on this new mysterious stranger.  This detox may kick my a$$ energy0wise, but the progression is noted.   I feel cleaner.  My appetite is not dangerous anymore, I’m desire healthier things, I don’t want to kill people who eat a slice in front of me.  Well, yes.  I still do.  But I didn’t know I had accepted my situation until today (that was yesterday).  Three recent things have happened:

Number 1: I walked into a Taco Bell and didn’t long for the gastric caress of a grilled stuff burrito (I went to get tickets to Nuclear Cowboyz, not a Chalupa).  The smell of crumbled mystery meat simmering in grizzle didn’t appeal to me.  I stopped to identify what was the longing sensation I was feeling: It was the emotional connection of being stuffed and indulged once I’ve gobbled the burrito without ever tasting it.  It was the immediate satisfaction.  Two weeks ago, I would’ve caved and ate it in front of my cats making them promise not to tell my husband.

Number 2: For lunch I found myself eating an apple, a handful of blueberries, roasted edamame, hummus, and celery sticks, and felt very satisfied and proud.

Number 3: I found this website http://hungryhungryhippie.com/. Please also see the Favourite Links page for the other website I added as well.  My life is about to change.  Now I’m sure this great lady doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal and I won’t, but I find her fantastic.  With so many diet restrictions,  I haven’t found a flexible, easy diet (because I get fatigued too fast when I make complicated and long meals) that makes palatable sense to me other than a macro diet, and the answer to that is: yea right!  I’m hungry and always will be.  Her diet matches my diet.  It’s interesting, versatile, and crunchy.  I have been perusing (that word is  so pretentious for wannabe writers) her website for two days now and couldn’t wait for the weekend to start trying some of her ideas.

For dinner I had leftover brown rice, threw a butternut squash in the oven, and mashed half a little hass avocado all folded in with the rice like sour cream.  And oh.my.god!  Food-gasm!  First I’ve had in a long time since I’ve been banned from what-we-consider regular food.  I made yummy noises that I shouldn’t be making when Husband is out of town.  Chelios and Mishka were terrified.

It's a celly pic, so pardon the quality.

Detox process is in full gear.  I am not craving crap anymore.  Or veggies that kick me around.  I’m not lactose intolerant but out of my own free will, I kicked the dairy habit.  Cheese naturally produces morphine and opiates after all; why do you think we GOTTA HAVE it on everything?

More mini updates:

  • I’ve had to drop the green tea.  Too twitchy, even though on low caffeine.  Slso acidity rate was becoming obvious, tummy burns.  It helped with inflammation immensely though, so that sucks.  Sticking to ginger tea and might try Turmeric tea.
  • That celery juice…added pure aloe vera, cinnamon and ginger to the blender. Bellisimo!
  • I now need a tofu press and a more fierce and bigger food processor that’ll whip foods hiney, literally and figuratively.  Eating completely different requires change in thinking, budgeting, and accessories.  I wish it required a new wardrobe too.

So, I’ve had friends offer to cook for me only to find out that they have no idea what to make, even if they’re willing to change up their menu.  Another conundrum was the first time I rattled off the list of things I couldn’t eat to my sister so she can cook for me when I visit her back home.  She waited for me to shut my gluten-free no-pie hole and rightfully asked: “Well, what CAN you eat?”.  (Also coming to posts near you)

Here is an example of my green-light foods, I’m on a rotating diet of  (all foods must be organic or at least whole, artificial,dye, and preservative free)

  • Lentils (mine and Husband’s fav)
  • Brown Rice
  • Jasmine rice
  • Black Beans
  • Eggs (I’m doing Egglands best, but intend to switch to organic, range-free, from the farms where they don’t kill the irrelevant male chicks 😦 )
  • Tortillas (Salvadorian style)
  • Salmon
  • Non-spicy spices
  • All herbs
  • Corn Cereal
  • Rice Crackers
  • Rice Cake
  • Hummus
  • Peanut Butter
  • Almond butter
  • Apples
  • All kinds of berries
  • Bananas
  • Avocado
  • Asparagus
  • Broccoli (I don’t care for cooking broccoli. Stinks.)
  • Watermelon
  • Celery
  • Carrot (sticks)
  • Cucumber
  • Onion
  • Soups w/o strong spices
  • Occasional Grass fed turkey or chicken (hardly ever, don’t care for the taste of dead animals)
  • Occasional Greek non-fat yogurt or white cheeses

Just added to my list:

  • Butternut squash… where have you been all my life?

It sounds boring to someone accustomed to a different diet, but I’m not bored by it.  I love it.  And when you can’t just go out and pick up a burger, you get really creative mixing and matching.  Recipes and pictures will write themselves eventually.  This week has sucked for energy and activity so when I feel whole again, I’ll share how I’ve been managing to cook lately.

(Drastic conclusion cut-off.)

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Filed under Foodsies, Housewifing, Loopy Lupus, Under the Weather

Somewhere Over the Percocet

At work, a small white tablet was found straggling around in my purse.  I heard angel choirs chanting not too far off this multi-dimensional realm.  I split the porcelain little helper in two.  Even before popping the first half, the placebo effect of the hope that was to come was already melting troubles away like lemon drop shots.

All these mornings have been groundhog-ish.  I had an interruption in my regular treatment for the ‘wolf disease’, and so the inflammation and pain came back with a vengeance.  With permission from a doctor’s note, I have stumbled into work late almost every day in the last two weeks.  When I pry my dessert-dry eyes open in the morning, while blood is trashing around in my skull, I begin the process of gauging my pain levels.  Neck: Stiff.  Hips: swollen.  Feet: extra swollen.  Back: stabbing.  Elbows: Stuck. Wrist and Fingers: numb.  Organs: Tender.  I’m exhausted from lack of recuperation, but also mentally, from the automatic conditioning that has set in;  the rapid-fire assessment I make two minutes from wake-up time.  I know the day is going to be a battle and my brain wages war to stay home for an hour or two more.

Eventually I unfurl my spine and muster the bravery to place my feet on the floor.  Morning stiffness and swelling is normal. For the rest of the day, continual movement is paramount, otherwise, my joints will stay stuck in motionless positions.  I still don’t know how to describe many of the symptoms that come with this condition.  The best one yet, which I don’t know if the average person can understand, is that it feels like my blood doesn’t fit inside its veins and my limbs don’t fit inside it’s skin encasing.  The most recent pain is my lower back.  The doctor said there is no damage.  “It’s just inflammation.”  I doubt the words of that arrogant fool, but I’m also helpless in my limited amount of time to take off work and see every doctor for every spot on my body that’s wrong.

My excitement for the Perk was because I had run out of them.  The physician switched me to Vicodin, a very unpleasant substitute which reduces pain, adds headaches, has angered my autoimmune and takes my literal breath away.  This cannot continue.

For that reason, finding a lost little Percocet made my next 4-6 hours.  However, the concern simmers within. It won’t be long before it wears off and no more rogue pills will be laying around to be found.

This is not the most unbearable pain I’ve ever experienced, but it’s the most ongoing pain I’ve ever  had to deal with.  I’m not sure how to do it and when the big picture spans out before my eyes, out of focus and blurry, panic begins to stir.

Am I becoming dependent on a short-term solution?

Am I falling trap to a cognitive dissonance that justifies pill popping. Even if its prescribed?

What constitutes the right to pain killers?

What if you need them to keep your job?

What is the deal with organic herbs that ease pain without causing systematic damage like synthetic narcotics? Why don’t I live in California or Amsterdam?

When will they build a Whole Foods in my neighborhood?

How do I keep my job and my home from being neglected in my condition?

How am I to reduce to a more manageable part-time, if I need to pay for so many medicines, appointments, and tests? How am I supposed to keep my mental peace when its at war with my body?

How am I going to do my part as a capable housewife if I run out of energy too early on the same day that my beloved cat decides to poop on our mattress and pee on all our spare mattresses?

What if  I don’t stop asking all these unanswerable questions and die right here of cardiac arrest?

All these questions ruminate above in my head with great insistence.

They tumble inside my brain like a dryer with damp laundry all they want, but none of it is solvable if i don’t stop the cycling.  Stress exacerbates fatigue, pains, and surrender.  Action however, gets the job done.

I’m a big believer of a mini-break down. If you fight it too long, you’re have a certified melt-down and that’s just too inconvenient for everyone.  After you’re done crying and venting to a friend/family member who provides you a less morbid solution than resorting to admitting yourself in an insane asylum, you wait for your blotchy skin to normalize, you assume rhythmic breathing, you decrease your voice’s pitch from supersonic back to human, send a quick prayer through the proper channels, and you lay out your plan.

As soon as your vision isn’t blurred,  you call all your doctors with reasonable inquiries and requests.  Then you research on acupuncture and and natural therapies because your doctor is bound to take guesses as good as a two-year old.  You buy a box of pinch-proof gloves and an enzyme cleaner for unpleasant odors.  You put aside any feminism and ask Husband for suggestions and to kindly pass the vacuum once a week for you (He won’t know if you don’t ask).  Draw smiley faces on the bills you don’t intend to pay.  Powder your face again if warranted.  Thank your friends for letting you be at your worst with them and still letting you maintain your credibility when the show is over.

Ages 4-7

You also learn to prepare better for next time. It’s time to invest in the sponge bat I’ve been suggesting might be the greatest problem solver in the world.

I especially like this one with the adjustable size for the days my symptoms throw me on the couch and the cats start meowing suspiciously.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Pain killers are a temporary solution. Being in turmoil is inevitable but should always be dealt with.  Being overwhelmed doesn’t have to be the dirty little secret many sweep under the ground as if this life was a summer breeze.  Take meds if you must, but learn how to get on by your own terms. That alone is like natural opiates.

 

 

And that’s the way Sue C’s it. *

*High-five, Glee Geeks!

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Filed under Indulgence, Loopy Lupus, Picture of Health, Post A Week, Stimulating the Economy, Under the Weather