The Bad Schmuckazoids

My sister and I are now referring to rheumatologists as a group as The Bad Schmuckazoids. She really knows how to turn a phrase.

 

It has been clear for some time that her B.S. was giving her the standard meds for arthritis and fibormyalgia, but that these meds were not good for her, and she's finally found a different doctor who's straightening it all out and getting her back on track. It's as if she lost six months of her life to bad medicine interactions. On the other hand, I was very proud of myself because I refused to make some of the changes that my doctor wanted (and which my sister made, because her doctor said to.) I resisted the injectables, and still will. I resisted dropping Lexapro (for depression) and replacing it with Cymbalta (for depression and fibro.) And then ...

 

I was reading an article yesterday on Medical Marijuana (as one does) and arthritis, in which the pros and cons of the MM vs. the standard treatments were given. To my horror, I learned that the med I am taking -- methotrexate -- is pretty sucky, too. I looked it up on an independent site, and found out that what I'm already taking also has a host of lovely side effects such as mouth sores and diarrhea (wait, isn't that why I take meds for Crohn's?), constant alternating hot flashes and chills (which explains a whole lot of my last few months), and, wait for it .... possible unexplained blindness and/or sudden death.

 

Needless to say, I am quitting this shit as soon as I can. I called the doctor's office to find out if I can just stop or if I need to wean off, and, suspecting what his answer would be, I called the pharmacist while I was waiting for the doctor to call back. I have the incredible luxury of using a small, family-owned pharmacy, one of the few left anywhere, and this is why. I have known the pharmacist I spoke to since he was a kid, since he delivered prescriptions for his father when we first moved to B-Town 24 years ago, and now he's been one of the pharmacists there for many, many years, and he knows me. All three of them know me. So I asked. He said it would be better to wean off. And the doctor said? Just stop it. I knew he would say that. That's what doctors say. It's like they're pissed because you're not taking the med they gave you, so fuck you. When I wanted to stop the hormones, that's what the gynecologist (that I used to go to) said: Well, just stop. Not wean off over the course of a year and half so you don't have sudden, horrible side effects (which is what the internist had me do.) Just stop. Fuck you.

 

Anyway (she said as she turned on the desk fan, mopped her face off, and took off the top layer of shirt), that's the tale of yesterday. I would so much rather deal with the arthritis/fibro/knee pain and take tylenol and shmear on Aspercreme than take that crap. (Oh, btw, one of its other side effects: avascular necrosis, which is the side effect I got from prednisone that's causing my knee and elbow to deteriorate. So I've probably been making that worse, since we already know it's a side effect I get.)

 

As for today, I'm not library walking, since I'm still very achy from yesterday, but I'll try to do the Fit after school. My little Shepherd's Pies with turkey came out really good last night, and I may, believe it or not, try it again in a few weeks with veggie crumbles, and use soymilk and soy butter in the mashed potatoes so that the Hubs can have some as well. It smelled good, or at least I assume so, since he hung out in the kitchen while we were eating, something he rarely does. Wednesday is one of our "on our own" days, so I may finish up some leftovers, or go with a frozen meal. Depends on what I eat during the day, I guess.

 

In goofy news, the underwire on my bra actually broke into two pieces yesterday while I was wearing it. I didn't realize this until I got home, but it made me wonder how long I was walking around with one low, so to speak. This is just soooo encouraging on the weight loss front, eh?

 

Anyway, I was going to share a picture with you all of my loved ones, as I see them on my desk, but I can't figure out how to do that in an email post. Toorrow, perhaps. I'm going to take the picture anyway, and see what magic I can work with it later at home.