Irma L. Olguin Jr.

I didn’t plan on writing another posting because it seemed like all I was doing was writing about more bad news, and who wants to read that?  But, because you asked, I’ll give you the facts as they are right this second:

The last time I saw a doctor was just about two weeks ago and that was my neurologist.  She’s pretty great by the way.  She’s blunt about the situation and doesn’t try to give me hope like everyone else really wants to do.  She’s also surprised that I haven’t sunk into a deep depression and that amuses me quite a bit.  In spite of the reasons for going, I look forward to seeing her.

Just about three weeks ago, I was hired by a company called Band of Neighbors.   These guys are really going out of their way for me, and I couldn’t ask for more.  Well, I could ask for more money, I suppose, but that would just be looking a gift-horse in the mouth.  With this job comes insurance.

I haven’t received confirmation of my new insurance yet, so I can’t breathe a gigantic sigh of relief.  But it’s coming.  I can feel it.

Using all the charm I have in my bag, I persuaded my doctor to wait until I have insurance to have the next set of procedures done.  (It didn’t require that much charm, to be honest.) The onset of insurance coverage will also mean a new medicine will be prescribed to me.  The last statin I was on (it’s a medicine that breaks apart things in your blood, often given to people with cholesterol problems, but in my case, just used to keep my blood ultra thin)  ate away at my muscles and left me fatigued and hurting.  It was a difficult time for me, and heartbreaking, I think, for the people closest to me.  I was a shell of myself, but I’m better now.

I was removed from the statin, and underwent a withdrawal period which was painful, but still better than being on the Rx.  As soon as I have that insurance confirmation, I will get a new statin, and have an MRI/MRA and a CT Doppler, which is all fancy-talk for fresh pictures of my brain.  I’m not ecstatic about the new statin.  I’m leary that it will take away my energy, which would be upsetting.  I’m not exactly looking forward to the procedures either because they hurt (the medicine burns to an almost unbearable point and then it goes away).  On the other hand, I am anxious to know whether things have gotten worse, better, or are the same.

Health-wise I’m doing much better than I was just two months ago.  I’m still at significant risk for CVA (cerebral vascular accident = major stroke), but at least I feel pretty normal most of the time.

Things that have changed because of this beautiful mess:

• I bleed A LOT!  My blood is now like water, only bright red.  I was camping recently and poked my finger on a jagged piece of plastic.  I didn’t know I was cut until I felt the blood dripping down my hand.  Oops.  Now I have to be extremely careful not to get cut.
  
• I am beat at the end of the day.  I miss my old energy.
• Sometimes I have a hard time concentrating when I’m that tired.
• My hands and feet fall asleep sometimes for no reason.

That last one is a point of concern as it could be a sign of bi-lateral stroke symptoms.

Say what?

Well, you see, when people have strokes it’s because the brain is not getting enough oxygen (which is carried up there by the blood).  When the brain can’t breathe, the half that is affected causes problems in the body, like a sagging in half of the face, loss of motor function on one side, the ability to speak or make sense of words, loss of feeling in the opposite half of the body, and so on.  If these pieces of my body that are going numb, or falling asleep are a result of the issues with my brain, then that would mean that both sides of the brain are suffocating and that’s really really rare.  We don’t know if that’s what‘s happening yet, but that’s the talk around the watercooler.

According to my medical records, there’s already evidence of suffocation in parts of the brain, but I don’t know what that means.  I’m hoping to find these things out after the next round of procedures.  (When I say ‘next round’, I mean it.  I’ll be doing this the rest of my life, I’m told.)

I know this all sounds very bleak.  That’s most of the reason I stopped writing.  There’s no good news here, and I’m not sure there ever can be.  At the same time though, I feel supernaturally above the problem, and I can’t explain that properly except to say that everyday I am able to get up and go to work and make some jokes, is  pretty good day in my book.

That about covers it.  Any questions?