Introduction & Early Stages

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April 2001

Tuesday, April 10, 2001

It’s Tuesday afternoon, about 3:30. After a nice two-hour nap, I’m ready for the second half of my day. Just ran (well, not in the literal sense) to the mailroom to get my greatly anticipated package: the bottle of Vioxx I’ve been prescribed to take instead of the Celebrex. I saw the doctor on Friday. He was less than thrilled at what my body looked and felt like and after asking me how I felt (which begged the question “want to change meds?”) he and I decided it would be time for a change. ‘If vanilla doesn’t do anything for you, try strawberry’ he has always said. So here I am, counting down the hours until I can take my Vioxx and then waiting a week or two to see if it is working. Oh the joys of life, right?

I had a really good weekend. It was (is) Passover, which is a celebration of Spring, after you trim the details away, in the Jewish religion. Like every other Jewish holiday, it is riddled with great food and lots of good company. Shayne, for example, came home to be with her family for the weekend. Which means we got to spend time together. There is something to be said about having someone you really care about (and who really cares about you) around when you’re not feeling 100%. After I leave the doctor I have a hard time walking for the rest of the day because of the positions he twists me into and the ways he pounds on my joints. But with Shayne I didn’t feel that intense pain and discomfort immediately after. I believe more and more that there is more here than just what pills and how many of them I take a day in determining how I feel. When I’m happy, it seems like many of my aches and pains go away (temporarily). That’s not to say that they don’t come back twice as bad the day after, but for the time being, everything seems to be suspended. Having fun with someone who is your best friend (and then some) goes a long way when it comes to living with a chronic disease.

So how will the Vioxx work? Well, who knows. Will I be posting a disgusting side effect like vomiting green mucus or something? I sure hope not. Will I be able to wake up in the morning, walk to the bathroom and not be in pain? Let’s keep the fingers crossed – or at least the good ones crossed.

Developing…

Monday, April 16, 2001

I’m one week into my Vioxx. So far my extremities are intact. My stomach is in one piece. No blood where blood doesn’t belong. No splitting headaches. I guess you could say this week has been a success. Pretty funny how at the end of almost a week and a half I am sitting here thinking about how lucky I am not to be peeing blood or how fortunate I am to still have a working liver. People down the hall and everywhere I turn are all up late worrying who Dawson will hook up with – or more to the point where they will go drinking this weekend. And I am quietly and responsibly thanking my lucky stars nothing has gone wrong, and so far the new medicine is working okay. Nothing to write home about – yet – but that remains to be seen. Maybe in a few days I will up the dosage (double it) so that I can start training for the Boston Marathon next year.

Which, by the way, ran right by Babson today. I really admire the people who run these things. Their collective will and determination is such an inspiration that I am almost at a loss for words. Any test like a marathon is one that I respect. But watching the race today got me to thinking…The reality is, we all accomplish – or fair – our own marathons everyday. They’re just on a different scale. For me, sometimes the marathon will be just getting to class in one piece, across campus. Those last flight of stairs up feels like an eternity. Once I make it I’m ready to sit down and rub my knees out. For some people the marathon isn’t getting to the classroom, but instead getting to the kitchen. Or getting to the car. Today’s marathon was nothing more than a glorified event with lots of T.V. coverage. Inside all of us is the happiness and accomplishment of crossing the finish line in one piece, ready for the next challenge.

I know that’s how I feel at least. A true Kenyan-at-heart.

Thursday, April 19, 2001

Just when I thought things were looking good…

I wake up feeling worse than ever. This whole week I was feeling good. I mean the Vioxx wasn’t too bad. I was prescribed 1-2 a day, but the HMO would only pay for one a day. So I was only planning on taking one a day. This whole week I was managing. In the back of my mind I thought that something was up – but I figured since I wasn’t puking blood, something had to be good. Maybe I turned the optimism dial a little too much, because hoping I would be okay didn’t make me realize that I really wasn’t. Tuesday I woke up feeling really crappy. My back and my hips hurt really badly. If I thought about it long enough, I could remember distinctly what it was like when they thought I had an ulcer and I didn't take any medicine. This scared me to death.

So I did the unthinkable. I actually went against what my HMO said I should do. I took two pills a day, instead of one. So I’ll run out. Big deal. I still have lots of Celebrex left over. Or do I? The good news is I’m feeling really good today and yesterday. I can definitely feel a difference. I’m not feeling twice as good, but the edge is definitely not there, and I’m able to at least walk and not limp. So I got that going for me.

Deep down inside I know that I’m being an idiot. I mean not only am I just jerking myself around here by playing Mr. Pharmacist, but I’m just not treating myself right. Is it a money thing? No. (Although Vioxx isn’t exactly something you get wholesale) (Although that’s not such a bad idea.) The bottom line is this: I have been laying in bed for the last 3 days wide awake saying to myself “You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot.” I’ve justified taking the second pill a day to myself by chugging down another Prilosec before hand. It’s as though I’ve empowered myself to decide what to take, when to take it, and how much of it I’m going to take. That’s probably the scariest thing. I am headed back to New York tomorrow. My mom will know what to do. She always does.

It used to be a lot easier you know. Back in the day I would swallow two ounces of bad tasting strong Advil and get on with my life. Back in the day…

Wednesday, April 25, 2001

Like water running down a hill, I have encountered problems with my new medicine. So much so that I made the executive decision just to take myself off of the new medicine (Vioxx) and go back to what I had been taking for the last year and a half (Celebrex). It was as simple as anything else. I didn’t even think twice about doing it. Why did I change? Well I didn’t feel any better on the new medicine, and most of the time I felt worse.

So without skipping a beat I put aside the Vioxx (that I had tried to double the dosage for during the week, and even that didn’t do much) and popped the Celebrex. And now, life is just the same as it was three weeks ago. Tolerable but not perfect. Good but not great. Decent but not fantastic. I guess a half a loaf of bread is better than no bread at all.

For once I will stop thinking about my condition (in hopes that it will go away?) and focus on my finals that are just over the horizon. I feel like my brain can only process one thing at a time, and I don’t want to get stuck in the “health loop” where all I think about is how sick I feel. Then nothing gets accomplished. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, it would be that…

I expect nothing but good times and painless joints this summer. I insist.

Monday, April 30, 2001

It’s Monday morning and I’m scrambling to do all of the work I put off all weekend. How much more typical does this get? It’s okay, the work is nothing major. Just odds-and-ends.

Finals are looming…they’re getting closer and closer. I’m starting to get emails about review sessions. I really have only one final, and then another test during finals week (which doesn’t count nearly as much as a final), so maybe that’s why I’m subconsciously not worrying all that much. I can’t sweat this small stuff. Really. I’m too busy worrying about how I feel to deal with that kind of stuff. So I get a B- and not a B+. Big deal. What does it matter in the long run? I guess my parents wouldn’t be too crazy hearing me say that, but honestly, when you have a disease that makes laying down hurt at times, details like cramming for tests seem as insignificant as they get.

Since the weather is so beautiful - finally - in New England, maybe I'll go outside and read a book in the shade. Or maybe I'll take a walk to the fields. It feels like the nicer the weather, the easier it is to cope with my aches and pains. Sounds like it's a psychological thing...