Post by butterwort on Jan 5, 2011 2:18:22 GMT -8
Yeah, so I signed up for this board a while back and then proceeded to completely forget about it, because that's one thing I am definitely good at.
Hello! I'm here via Facebook/Regretsy. I'm 29 and a biotech peon living in the middle of Silicon Valley. Actually I'm an artsy-fartsy type, and I kind of ended up with a career in science by mistake. I've been trying to make my escape back to the arts, but no luck so far...
About three years ago my general health started to go down the shitter in a variety of ways. I got sick a lot more often, and got tired really quickly. Work was frequently stressful, and I had been struggling with what was most likely PTSD from an abusive relationship and subsequent stalking.
I already knew what fibro was, since I had previously cared for someone with fibro*, so I knew it was possible that my diagnosis could eventually come to that. The downside of knowing was that when I started getting neuropathic pain and the classic tender points, I kind of freaked out. I was convinced I was going to have the worst case ever and ended up sobbing in my doctor's office like an idiot while my doc looked at me somewhat baffled and tried to explain to me that I was doing pretty well for someone with fibro, actually. Which is quite true. It took just under a year and three doctors to officially diagnose my condition as fibromyalgia, and no one ever told me I was crazy for my symptoms.
It took a few prescription tweaks over the last two years, but Cymbalta manages my pain very well. It's rare these days for me to need to take my horse-pill sized Naproxen along with it. The bigger problem lies with the lack of stamina and, most importantly, the cognitive impairment. Unfortunately, my job requires a lot of concentration, multitasking, and standing on my feet. As my symptoms developed, work got harder. I began to wonder how long I'd be able to keep doing this. Fortunately, about seven months after my diagnosis they laid off my entire department.
Now, I thought that would be the end of that, and I'd have a chance to relax and prepare to launch a second career in creative stuff--work on my art, make jewelry, finish the script to my graphic novel... uh, not so much.
Shortly after my job falls through, my then-boyfriend has a crisis of confidence and breaks up with me (not triggered by my job situation, but by his own underemployment). Two months after that, my mom has a bad case of bronchitis and fractures her ribs. As a result, she eventually finds out she has multiple myeloma. No family history, no exposure to toxic chemicals, no other risk factors--completely out of the blue. Shortly after that, my parents' dog gets diagnosed with tumors in her legs. Shortly after that, my dad gets diagnosed with a slightly aggressive form of prostate cancer. Everyone I told this story to asked if their house was maybe located on top of a superfund site or an Indian burial ground... to my knowledge, no...
My mom did frontline chemo, but didn't respond well enough to it, so they readied her for an autologous stem cell transplant. This... basically took up the entirety of 2010. My dad, my brother, and I took turns doing chores, taking the dog to the veterinary oncologist, visiting mom in the hospital, and attending outpatient caretaker classes. My brother and I also took turns trying to calm my dad down; he was in full panic mode a lot of the time, dealing with his treatments and running his practice in addition to helping mom.
So... I ended up not having enough spare time or energy to invest in making stuff this past year. Maybe I could have been more productive if I'd focused more, but at the time I didn't know what was going to happen next, and if something went horribly wrong with mom's treatment my dad was going to come totally unglued. And I really got knocked out every time I had to do chores for them.
After my mom got her transplant, my dad finished his radiation treatment, and the dog was in remission, I had to go have a laparoscopy to remove a dermoid cyst that was taking up real estate in my ovary. While my gyno was in there, she found out I also had endometriosis. And a random polyp in my fallopian tube. They initially thought I might have an ectopic pregnancy and made me go for an extra pregnancy test which scared the heck out of me, but no, it was just a weird growth. I'm like one of those multi-variety pear trees.
During my post-surgery bed rest I heard that my old company was looking to hire a temp to cover someone going on maternity leave... I didn't really want to take it, but now that I have fibro, cysts, and endometriosis on my medical records I'm looking at HIPAA health insurance once my COBRA runs out, which can run almost as high as what I pay in rent. I was not financially prepared to budget so much just to healthcare, but I'm not prepared to start making money on my own, either. And that leads us up to the present. You get a gold star if you read this all the way through.
*Ironically, the person with fibro I was supporting was also my abuser. Messed up, huh? Part of what kept me in that relationship was the caretaker obligation.
Hello! I'm here via Facebook/Regretsy. I'm 29 and a biotech peon living in the middle of Silicon Valley. Actually I'm an artsy-fartsy type, and I kind of ended up with a career in science by mistake. I've been trying to make my escape back to the arts, but no luck so far...
About three years ago my general health started to go down the shitter in a variety of ways. I got sick a lot more often, and got tired really quickly. Work was frequently stressful, and I had been struggling with what was most likely PTSD from an abusive relationship and subsequent stalking.
I already knew what fibro was, since I had previously cared for someone with fibro*, so I knew it was possible that my diagnosis could eventually come to that. The downside of knowing was that when I started getting neuropathic pain and the classic tender points, I kind of freaked out. I was convinced I was going to have the worst case ever and ended up sobbing in my doctor's office like an idiot while my doc looked at me somewhat baffled and tried to explain to me that I was doing pretty well for someone with fibro, actually. Which is quite true. It took just under a year and three doctors to officially diagnose my condition as fibromyalgia, and no one ever told me I was crazy for my symptoms.
It took a few prescription tweaks over the last two years, but Cymbalta manages my pain very well. It's rare these days for me to need to take my horse-pill sized Naproxen along with it. The bigger problem lies with the lack of stamina and, most importantly, the cognitive impairment. Unfortunately, my job requires a lot of concentration, multitasking, and standing on my feet. As my symptoms developed, work got harder. I began to wonder how long I'd be able to keep doing this. Fortunately, about seven months after my diagnosis they laid off my entire department.
Now, I thought that would be the end of that, and I'd have a chance to relax and prepare to launch a second career in creative stuff--work on my art, make jewelry, finish the script to my graphic novel... uh, not so much.
Shortly after my job falls through, my then-boyfriend has a crisis of confidence and breaks up with me (not triggered by my job situation, but by his own underemployment). Two months after that, my mom has a bad case of bronchitis and fractures her ribs. As a result, she eventually finds out she has multiple myeloma. No family history, no exposure to toxic chemicals, no other risk factors--completely out of the blue. Shortly after that, my parents' dog gets diagnosed with tumors in her legs. Shortly after that, my dad gets diagnosed with a slightly aggressive form of prostate cancer. Everyone I told this story to asked if their house was maybe located on top of a superfund site or an Indian burial ground... to my knowledge, no...
My mom did frontline chemo, but didn't respond well enough to it, so they readied her for an autologous stem cell transplant. This... basically took up the entirety of 2010. My dad, my brother, and I took turns doing chores, taking the dog to the veterinary oncologist, visiting mom in the hospital, and attending outpatient caretaker classes. My brother and I also took turns trying to calm my dad down; he was in full panic mode a lot of the time, dealing with his treatments and running his practice in addition to helping mom.
So... I ended up not having enough spare time or energy to invest in making stuff this past year. Maybe I could have been more productive if I'd focused more, but at the time I didn't know what was going to happen next, and if something went horribly wrong with mom's treatment my dad was going to come totally unglued. And I really got knocked out every time I had to do chores for them.
After my mom got her transplant, my dad finished his radiation treatment, and the dog was in remission, I had to go have a laparoscopy to remove a dermoid cyst that was taking up real estate in my ovary. While my gyno was in there, she found out I also had endometriosis. And a random polyp in my fallopian tube. They initially thought I might have an ectopic pregnancy and made me go for an extra pregnancy test which scared the heck out of me, but no, it was just a weird growth. I'm like one of those multi-variety pear trees.
During my post-surgery bed rest I heard that my old company was looking to hire a temp to cover someone going on maternity leave... I didn't really want to take it, but now that I have fibro, cysts, and endometriosis on my medical records I'm looking at HIPAA health insurance once my COBRA runs out, which can run almost as high as what I pay in rent. I was not financially prepared to budget so much just to healthcare, but I'm not prepared to start making money on my own, either. And that leads us up to the present. You get a gold star if you read this all the way through.
*Ironically, the person with fibro I was supporting was also my abuser. Messed up, huh? Part of what kept me in that relationship was the caretaker obligation.