Gratitude

It has been in the back of my mind to write about gratitude for some time now, but recently something happened that brought the subject straight to the front of the line.

I just spent a week and a half travelling in Texas, Colorado, and Utah.  The most notable event, of course, was my sister’s wedding, which was beautiful and full of love, as a wedding should be.  The day before the wedding, while attending the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, it became increasingly clear to me that I was having an allergic reaction.  My face was breaking out in a red, bumpy, itchy rash.  It started as a couple patches of dry skin, but eventually spread over my nose, chin, both cheeks, and onto my eyelids.  And it itched BAD.

Now, this is inconvenient enough given that I was on vacation AND about to be a bridesmaid and have hundreds of pictures taken of me.  But on top of that was the uncertainty of what I was reacting to, the concern that it was related to the medication I’m taking, and the apprehension about what steps to take.  I have never had a reaction like this before, and I hadn’t done anything super unusual that I could blame.  Sure, I was using a different sunscreen, and drinking a different brand of vitamin water, but I couldn’t really identify anything as the culprit.  I did some internet research on allergic reactions and bromocriptine, wondering if it perhaps the medication has reacted with something.  All I found were multiple cautions and warnings, urging me to “Seek Medical Attention Immediately” and other such terrifying advice.  Although I was very concerned about it, I eventually came to the conclusion that these warnings were for individuals who were reacting TO the bromocriptine.  I knew that I wasn’t in that category because I had been on the medication for several months.

So I didn’t seek medical attention immediately, I just used a lot of cortisone cream and took a lot of Benadryl, and I layered on the makeup for the wedding.  The rash began to fade as quickly as it came, and after a few more days it disappeared.

It came and it went in about a week, and it didn’t cause any real damage, but it was this brief discomfort that brought to my attention all the things that are NOT wrong with me.  For example, my rash went away.  I do not have a chronic allergy or skin condition.  Isn’t that awesome?  Yes, I have a prolactinoma.  Yes, I have various aches and pains and weaknesses that cause me discomfort and distress.  But I also have two functioning arms and two functioning legs.  I have my eyesight, I have my hearing.  I don’t have kidney failure, I don’t have cancer, I don’t have schizophrenia, I don’t even have insomnia.  I have a whole, functioning, and pretty darn healthy body, and I have the ability to face the world each day with a smile on my face.

Now, I’m not saying that I am somehow better than those who are afflicted by any of the conditions that I just mentioned.  In fact, quite the opposite.  If you are suffering from any serious health condition that is painful or dangerous or limiting, you must be incredibly brave and strong, and I admire you.  I am saying that each individual has a specific set of conditions in life, and therefor a specific set of things to be grateful for.  If you don’t often take time to sit and think about yours, try it.  You might find that you are wealthier or luckier than you ever imagined.

Here are just a few of the things that I am most grateful for.  If I tried to give you a complete list, we would be here for days, for I have realized how incredibly fortunate I am.  I am grateful for:

My health.  For the ability to get out of bed each and every day.  To not be in a hospital.  To have a straightforward, effective, and affordable treatment for my condition.  For the availability of fresh, nourishing food and clear, clean water.

Safety and comfort.  For my apartment, and my kitty.  For sleeping in peace at night without fear.  For hot water, heating units, and air conditioning.  For my car and the freedom it provides.

Family and friends.  For love and loyalty and friendship and support.  For fun and laughter and spontaneity.  For good times and bad.

And finally, for my sister’s wedding — the breathtaking beauty of the Rocky Mountains, the purity of a lifelong union between two people in love, and celebrating with family and friends from all over the country.

Take a few minutes and think about it.  What do you have to be grateful for?

Moms and MRIs

During the process of my diagnosis, my mom did a bunch of research that helped us both feel a lot better.  If you are going to have a brain tumor, this is a good one to have.  It’s benign, it usually responds well to medication, and all it does is sit there and produce prolactin.  It becomes more dangerous if it grows or puts pressure on surrounding tissues, but this doesn’t happen with most microprolactinomas that receive treatment.  I’m grateful that my mom did this research for me, because after my first quick excursion into brain tumor research, I had been avoiding it altogether.

My mom also offered to fly out to go to my MRI appointment with me.  This is a secret, so don’t tell her, but I had been hoping she would say that!  So my mom flew out, and along with coming to my MRI appointment, she hung out with me at work, took me out for dinner, bought some cat food, and cleaned the bathtub.  Yay mom!

As for the actual MRI appointment, I spent the three hours leading up to it making increasingly demanding phone calls, trying to figure out why my insurance company hadn’t approved the MRI yet.  I’ll save you the gory details, but it was ridiculous, frustrating, and entirely not my fault!  The approval went through about 25 minutes before my MRI was supposed to start, after we were already in the waiting room.  I finally started breathing normally, sat down next to my mom, and suddenly realized that I still had to do the MRI itself…

My boyfriend came to the appointment too, because he’s sweet like that.  So after they called me back, I amused myself by imagining what my mom and boyfriend were talking about, as they had just met each other about fifteen minutes earlier.  It’s a good thing I had something to distract me, because MRIs SUCK.

First of all, they have you take off everything you’re wearing and put on some hospital pjs and bright red socks.  Then they poke you with a couple needles.  Of course, for me it took a few extra pokes to get it right.  Ew.  Then they lay you down on the table, and it’s freezing in there!  At least they covered me with a sheet… actually two.  Like I said, it was freezing!  I had hoped that they would walk me through the process, or at least give me some indication of what to expect.  Instead, the extent of my preparation was a single sentence: “You’ll hear a loud knocking noise…”

Ok, “loud knocking noise” doesn’t even begin to cover the variety of deafening and terrifying noises that an MRI machine produces.  Sure, it began with a loud knocking noise which circled my head, but then broke into a series of screeching and throbbing siren noises that made me think something was terribly wrong with the machine.  Just when I thought I had gotten used to it, it would surprise me with something louder, longer, or more insistent than before.  I felt like I was experiencing a bomb raid, and I was ignoring the siren and instead forcing myself to lie perfectly still.  For at least forty minutes.  Ugh.

At some point, they injected the contrast fluid through the IV in my arm, and I felt my whole arm go numb.  I think that the contrast fluid was just very cold, but at the time I thought maybe I was having some sort of reaction to it.  I couldn’t help wondering why it wasn’t over yet.  At long last, they pulled me out of the machine and unwrapped me from sheets and headphones and whatnot.  Then they disconnected me from the IV, which spurted blood all over my arm as a parting shot.  I finally got to walk into the warm hallway and change back into my own clothes.  As I was tossing the hospital pjs in the hamper, I noticed that returning the bright red socks was optional.  Just in case you wanted a souvenir I guess.