Type 2 Diabetes and Congestive Heart Failure are two common conditions that people are diagnosed with every day. Living with one of these conditions at any age is hard enough; imagine living with both at the age of 27. That's what this blog is all about. It's about my life with Type 2 Diabetes and CHF, and about showing that you can live a fulfilling life with each.
So, I finally got my hands on the test results that I’ve been waiting on for the last month and there is reason for optimism. Guarded, but optimism just the same.
The MRI report indicated that my ejection fraction (EF), which is a measure of how well my heart is pumping, is at 47% right now, which is a big improvement over the 35% from the last round of tests. By comparison, the normal EF in a healthy person ranges from 50% to 65%. So, if this report is accurate, I’m not far from that range. And, if the EF is in fact at 47%, it means that I probably won’t be having surgery to implant a defibrillator any time soon. Those are very big Ifs.
The results of the blood work done to check my potassium, iron, thyroid, etc… all came back within the normal ranges. And while there were a few blips on the tapes from the heart monitor I wore for a month, they don’t appear to be anything to worry about.
While all of those are good signs, I’m still left with a lot of questions about what the hell is going on. And, unfortunately, I can’t get in to see the doctor until March 9th. But, at least I have the reports and know what they say.
For now, I’m trying to go forward with guarded optimism that things aren’t as bad as believed. The clouds of doubt and despair that have consumed me in recent months aren’t making that easy, but I am trying. I guess time will tell.
So, it’s been two weeks since I went through a grueling barrage of heart tests to try and determine why there’s been a decline in my ejection fraction and what the next course of action will be. And, much to my dismay, I know as much now as I did going into those tests. Meaning I still don’t know. Meaning I’m still waiting for test results. And the waiting is driving me insane. I need answers. And I need them NOW!
I called the doctor’s office on Friday and left a message for them to call me back. I didn’t receive that call back. I attempted to call again today and, again, got no where. So, I’m going to give it another try in the morning. And if I’m not successful this time, I’m simply going to get in my car, drive across town to the office, and demand answers in person. I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what we are going to do next. Am I going to need surgery to implant a defibrillator in my chest? I need answers. And I need them NOW!
I’m trying to keep living my life while I wait, but this big dark cloud is looming overhead. I’m trying to think positively about things and believe that everything will be OK. But the negative thoughts in my mind are outweighing the positive at this point. Every aspect of my life going forward is tied to this one thing. I can’t really plan to do anything because I don’t know what’s going to happen with my heart. I am in limbo. And it sucks.
In the mean time, I’m stuck wearing this heart monitor that has become increasingly annoying in the past few days. Apparently, I’ve had an allergic reaction to the adhesive and/or conductive gel on the electrodes, because there are big red welts on my chest where the electrodes were placed. They hurt and itch like crazy, too. Just lovely. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had these blasted things rip off in the middle of the night. Great way to wake up, let me tell you. I sincerely hope it’s all worth it in the long run. I guess time will tell.
For now, I need answers. And I’m going to get them!
So, I’ve been talking about this thing since I got it Monday and decided that instead of trying to describe it in writing, I’d shoot a vlog post and show you. So, without further delay, I present My Heart’s Cell Phone. Enjoy!
So, yesterday’s visit with with my primary care doctor was quite revealing. Given the fact that she called me directly and said we needed to discuss a letter she received from my cardiologist, I knew it would be an interesting visit going in.
As I mentioned in a previous post, the results from a recent round of testing performed by the cardiologist indicated that the strength of my heart has deteriorated again, and my ejection fraction is back down to 35%. I knew that going into the appointment yesterday. And I knew that the cardiologist had ordered a more intensive test to confirm that result. What I didn’t know was what he was planning to do if the results were confirmed.
His plan, should the test I’m having next week confirm the ejection fraction is indeed less than 36%, is to arrange for a defibrillator type device that would, hopefully, protect me from sudden cardiac death. In the event that I should go into cardiac arrest due to ventricular fibrillation, the device would shock my heart and restore a normal rhythm. Which in turn should give me a fighting chance to get to the hospital.
Now, that could mean a couple of different things. Worst case: I have to undergo surgery to implant a defibrillator. An operation that, while routine, is fraught with the potential for disaster. Best case: I have to be fitted with a wearable external defibrillator, involving no surgery, etc. If I must have something like that, I’d much prefer the non-invasive option.
At this point, either option is on the table. And what happens next will be determined after the test next Friday. And while I truly hope the results are better, and that the results of the last test were just wrong, the pain in my chest is telling me otherwise.
My primary doctor and I both agreed that obtaining a second opinion from an independent cardiologist was a good idea, so between now and next Friday, I’ll be meeting with a new doctor to have them review my case. Again, I’m trying to be optimistic that fresh thinking on this will result in something good, but as I said, I’m struggling with that.
Until then, it’s a wait and see what happens game. And I’m not good with these games. I can’t begin to describe what all of this is doing to me mentally.
But there was one bit of good news that came of that office visit. My A1C was 7.0, down from 7.4 in September. And given everything that I’m dealing with right now, that’s a damn respectable number.
And at a time when things are quite dark and miserable, it’s nice to see that something I’m doing is still working.
Well, today is January 1, 2012. Happy New Year to everyone reading this right now.
Much like millions of other people in the world, this is a time when I think about resolutions for the New Year. Things that I want to work toward by the time the year ends. Some years, my list is long, and others, not so much. And some years I accomplish them, and some years I don’t. This year, I have only one resolution. And it’s one that I’m guaranteed to be able keep each and every day of 2012.
This year, I have resolved to Give ‘Em Hell. To give diabetes and congestive heart failure just as much hell as they give me.
I’ll be giving them the finger
each and every day.
Sticking it to both of them,
to survive another day.
My tactics will soon be changing,
because I’ve lost a little ground.
But I’ll keep doing what I must to
turn this back around.
The battle will be difficult,
and I’m sure I’ll shout and swear.
Consider this your warning,
don’t say you weren’t aware.
It is my fondest wish that
the battle will go well.
Just call me Harry cause
I’m gonna Give ‘Em Hell!
So there you have it. My resolution for the new year. Short, bittersweet, and to the point. And since this post has taken the shape of a wine glass, here’s to a healthy and Happy New Year to everyone! Cheers!
This just in! MDH News has received unconfirmed reports that Blunt Lancet is set to release a single of their Christmas song, The Twelve Days of Betes, just in time for the holidays. MDH Entertainment reporter Little G is investigating and will have a full report soon.
Blunt Lancet is the popular 90′s rock band that has staged an impressive come back over the last couple of years. And this is not the first time we’ve reported on a potential Christmas release from Blunt Lancet.
Last year, the band was rocked by the BetesLeaks scandal, in which a rogue agent of the consulting firm Dewey, Fuck’em & Howe stole the lyrics to the song and shared them on the notorious online site, BetesLeaks.
We are seeking comment from a representative of Blunt Lancet, and will have more on this story as it develops. In the mean time, here are the lyrics available on their website.
The Twelve Days of Betes
On the first day of Betes my doctor gave to me
The results from my first A1C.
On the second day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the third day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the fourth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the fifth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the sixth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the seventh day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the eighth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Eight goals for meeting
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the nineth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Nine pumpers pumping
Eight goals for meeting
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the tenth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Ten fingers bleeding
Nine pumpers pumping
Eight goals for meeting
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the eleventh day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Eleven lancers lancing
Ten fingers bleeding
Nine pumpers pumping
Eight goals for meeting
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
On the twelfth day of Betes my doctor gave to me
Twelve Dexcoms beeping
Eleven lancers lancing
Ten fingers bleeding
Nine pumpers pumping
Eight goals for meeting
Seven ways of cheating
Six bills for paying
Five loads of Bullshit!
Four insulin vials
Three rusty lancets
Two old brochures and
The results from my first A1C.
In previous blog posts and conversations over the last two years, I’ve made no bones about the fact that I’ve battled with bouts of depression and anxiety since I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and type 2 diabetes.
The daily routines of medications, blood sugar testing, meal planning, and other related bullshit, combined with the constant worry of trying to figure out how to pay for all of those medications and testing supplies, are simply overwhelming at times.
Add to that all of the typical stuff that goes along with every day life, you know… work, bills, chores, relationships, etc… and you’ve got yourself a great big barrel of fun.
Then top that off with dealing with a loved one being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and going through all of the activities and emotions that go along with that, and being forced to put a near 9 year relationship on hold while your best friend becomes the primary caregiver for that loved one, and that great big barrel of fun transforms into the biggest clusterf*#K you’ve ever seen.
It’s all enough to destroy someone mentally. And the extreme mental hurt quickly manifests into extreme physical hurt. And you eventually reach a point where you just can’t take it anymore, and feel like throwing the towel in.
As difficult as it is for me to admit, I reached that point in the early part of February.
And the hard part is that I know it didn’t have to happen. I had a little bottle of “happy” pills in my possession that my doctor had given me the month before. I just wasn’t able to take them immediately, because I was starting a new blood sugar medication and had to get through the side effects of it before starting the other medicine.
And then when it was time to start the Celexa, I kept putting it off and putting it off, because of the fear that I’d have the same problems with it that I had with similar drugs years before. When you’ve had a bad experience with medications, or anything for that matter, you tend to shy away from them. It’s perfectly normal to have those feelings.
Things finally reached a point in early February where I knew I needed help, and knew that I had to take the plunge into the world of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications again. And so, on the 21st of last month, I broke the seal on the prescription bottle, cut the little pill in half as the doctor had instructed, and jumped.
Tomorrow, March 21st, will mark a month since I started the medication, and I can honestly say that I’m glad I did. I’m not nearly as edgy as I had been, and feel quite mellow most of the time. And mellow is a good thing.
The moral of this story is this: It’s OK to need help; You just have to ask for it!
