Sometimes I wonder if I should drop ALL meds and ALL docs. They’ve made me worse, not better. But the suffering I’m once again doing (mostly anxiety in the solar plexus that I call butterflies, fatigue, dizziness and a few hot flashes) can’t have anything to do with the levothyroxine at this point. At least I don’t think I could have pocket flares that could bring my T4 high enough to make me anxious. Plus, this isn’t the kind of anxiety I’d have on the levothyroxine.

Headaches, toe pain, ear pain, anxiety, depression, beat downs, hot flashes, fatigue, lightheadedness… it never ends. Dark thoughts cloud my mind once again, and once again I wonder how much more I can take. Will I ever get better? I’ve been asking this on and off for nearly two years now.

I went from the freeloaders’ grasp to poverty to this. How sad. And yes, very negative. Sorry, sis, but it’s why I resorted to private blogging. I’m having more bad days than good lately. My bursts of wakefulness and energy are getting scarce. Believe me, I actually miss some of my old/lesser problems. I wish noisy neighbors and landscaping were my worst problems in life.

This definitely can’t be a lingering effect of statins either. I felt horrible yesterday till Tom got up, and borderline from when I got up till just a little while ago. I did sleep better last night too, so I took the opportunity to get some cleaning done and did a 10-minute walk by making two rounds around the circle. The weather was beautiful. When I did it a couple of evenings ago it was cool and windy.

I just miss the old me and I wonder if I’m ever going to have her back again for more than a few weeks or a few months if I’m really lucky. I don’t get it… my life gets better, but I fall apart? I’m tired of feeling as tired as an old lady and I’m sick of feeling like the unhealthy person I’m not.

Dr. A continues to frustrate me and said exactly what we expected her to say; that she thinks hot flashes could be responsible for perimenopause, but believes most of my anxiety is my medication phobia. Oh, come on! Anyone knows that my symptoms are very common for perimenopause, and what about my other phobias? I fear spiders and heights yet they never made me feel the way I felt when I was on higher doses of Levothyroxine and when I took the Statin. It’s just frustrating that no one seems to believe me because how can she really help me and work with me otherwise? I just can’t believe that not one single doctor I’ve seen has mentioned peri.

I can’t blame yesterday on the statins since I’m not on them now. Again, I’ve never been this way before two years ago and this is very uncharacteristic of me. No booming heart yesterday, though, and I still worry the statins may have caused that and the excessive bowel movements. It’s sometimes hard to tell exactly what’s causing what when so many things can mimic the same symptoms. But I know what’s normal for me and some things are just rather obvious. Tom and I both would be willing to bet just about anything that the vast majority of my symptoms are perimenopause and that certain medications can enhance those symptoms.

I can see waiting to test my thyroid and cholesterol in the fall, but why wait till then for the estrogen/hormone tests? I just don’t get that.

Another thing that frustrates me is all the fucking foreign doctors out there whose first language isn’t English. This calls for the patients to have a harder time understanding them due to their accents, and them possibly having a harder time understanding us as well. If I wanted an Ecuadorian doctor, I’d go to Ecuador.

Like Tom said, we’re not locked into these doctors or this Medical Group. Yeah, but like Charlotte said, would getting a different doctor or group really make any difference? I would still prefer older American doctors whose first language is English and who are more likely to understand perimenopause if they’ve gone through it themselves. No wonder someone’s review said Doc A doesn’t do well with older patients. 55-57 would be a good age group for doctors for me. Old enough to understand, but young enough to be my doctor as long as we’re here.

Again, I wonder if I should say “fuck A” and try the estrogen Tammy recommended, but you know me… always afraid to try anything.

Although I still think the statins are going to escalate my anxiety and give me the runs and a booming heart again, I’m willing to give it one final try, but as I told the doctor, this might not be until early July. Tom is going to try to get time off around the holiday, which would give him 9 days off counting weekends, and he would only be taking 4 of his vacation days off. I worry about hogging up too many of his days too fast with all the fucking appointments I’ve got. Or worse, he getting fired and then a low-paying job with an American company that doesn’t give as many days off per year. Sometimes I wonder if something up there led him to this job, knowing it was going to pick on me and that I’d need all kinds of doctors. I just want to be happy! I want the anxiety, fears and worries to just fucking stop! Stress is one thing, anxiety is another. I’d rather worry about things in my mind than feel the physical effects of the anxiety like the butterflies and racy heart.

Worst case scenario I tell the doc that Take-Two failed and ask if there are alternatives to statins. If she remains stubborn with a statin-or-nothing attitude and won’t help me find what’s right for me, then yes, I’ll be done with her. Meanwhile, I highly doubt I’ll die the next day or the day after. I couldn’t get that lucky.

She also recommended getting in to see Stacey and a new psychiatrist since Dr. L left. Even though I don’t see what good that’s going to do me, I made an appointment with the only doctor they had available. Sure enough, it’s male and foreign. Asian this time. I looked up Dr. Chiu to see what he looked like and confirmed my Asian suspicions. Can’t get in till December, though. Stacey, I’ll see in 10 days. Her I’m kind of looking forward to even if it’s more time and money that Tom says not to worry about because she really listens and has been the most helpful so far.

I don’t know what to do for now, though. Do I tap more often? Do I try giving prayer another shot? I hate to say it, but coincidence or not, prayer did seem to keep things going in the OR dump as well as after our motel crisis. Only problem is I don’t know if I believe in God, or that it’s a very good God with all the shit I see going on in this world, along with what I’m going through. It’s hard to believe it would care, but I guess it can’t hurt to try.

I looked in last year’s journal for when I did the Return to Sender spell. Did it on December 30th. Things got worse before they got better. The first week of January was bad, then it got better… until the statin. Can one tiny 10 mg pill really do all that? Probably not all of it, but I still think it did part of it.

Then there’s the rock. That possibly cursed quartzite rock from that possibly cursed land. It may seem silly as hell, but just in case unpacking it and handling had a hand in making me worse, it’s sitting out in the trash now.

I can’t help but ask… why is this happening to me so severely? Why do some women make the transition so easily while I get to sit and suffer big time? I feel so cursed, but then I think how lucky I am not to be blind or paralyzed or anything like that.

So much for hoping for a shorter, lighter period. It’s a little shorter, but definitely had more kick than the last one.

Tom said he wants to pull my medical records from the thyroid ultrasound done at Sutter cuz he swears there was something there about my arteries looking good. Well, the 16th will tell us if there’s likely to be any imminent danger, and again, I couldn’t get that lucky. Then again, while dying instantly may be “lucky,” I wouldn’t be so lucky if I ended up parlayed on one side like Nana Bella.

As I was telling Tom, as strange as it may seem, the two years we were in the OR dump may not have been perfect, and I hated the climate, but it’s the only place he and I ever lived where our lives weren’t predominately bad in some way.

Phoenix = money and freeloader issues.
Maricopa = money and freeloader issues.
Duplex = money and neighbor issues.
Dump = winning and shopping.
Trailer = money and mutt issues.
Here = terror, terror, terror!

And the next state? Really, I hate to think that those two years could’ve been our “best” years despite not having shit. That place was a total dump and we had shit for furniture. I had yet to know what real insecurity was. I could read without prescription glasses. I wasn’t as fat. I had no concept of the true meaning of the word anxiety.

More to write about, but not enough energy. I’ll just end this entry by saying that I “did the right thing” by giving my nieces my number in case they ever want to call and chat. But I’m SO glad to know I’m the last person they’d call to cry about their wonderful little daddy! Again, I’m sorry for them. Being in your 20s is awfully young to lose a parent. But I hate the guy with just as much of a passion as I did in 2000.