Now, I didn't bitch when I got the vasculitis (Churg/Strauss Syndrome) although I wanted to! I won't post the pics of my breakout they are so disgusting...but, I am 46 and have been fairly healthy for the most part...no major surgeries and so forth. So, what the hey, I decided to grin and bear it. I kept thinking of my sister putting up with the same crap only much more so and now I was feeling some of her pain.
So, I still have a nasty rash on my legs and feet and I guess I've grown used to seeing it. I'm on my last antiobiotic (Praise Jesus) and I've weaned myself off of insulin and massive doses of steroids.
Can I say steroids SUCK? I was SO depressed while taking it in the hospital and at home. I remember when I watched a football game one evening, it was the NY Giants vs somebody that I can't remember at the moment and they lost. (I was rooting for NY). What did I do? I cried like a baby. Then when my Titans lost, I sobbed. Why???? STEROIDS. Don't take them, they suck.
Okay, then I am weaning myself off all this crap, right? Then on Sunday, I had been working and was seated with my laptop on my lap. I stood up and my Parkinson's got me. My balance was horrible and I could feel myself going down. Next thing I know, I feel something crack and my ass is on the floor. My knee is swollen and my foot was throbbing in pain. Oh, it's just a twisted ankle, I think to myself. I try to get back up and stand up on that leg....no, it isn't a twisted ankle, nor a sprain. I mean this HURT.
So, once again I go to the doctor who is trying to make an appointment with a Rhumatoid Arthritus doctor for my vasculitis. "Change in plans, doc...I hurt my foot really bad." So, I go to see a orthopedist today. I roll up my pants leg to show him my foot and he looks horrified. "Oh yeah, I have vasculitis." He puts on plastic gloves and looks like he is going to pass out examining my foot. He starts examining my foot, pressing here, pressing there....nothing too painful.
He goes to look at my x-ray. He comes back and takes his thumb and presses in the center of my foot below my 2nd toe. After he regained his hearing from the shriek of pain I bellowed, he remarks, "Did you take alot of steroid for your vasculitis?" I tell him yes.
"You know that steroids weaken your bones, right? That's probably what happened with your foot. By the way, your metatarcel bone is broken."
So, here I am hobbling out of the dr's office with a big honking foot brace. "See me in 2 weeks, it should heal on it's own," he reminds me.
Part of me is pissed and the other part thinks it's funny. I wish you could have seen the sheer horror on the dr's face when looking at my legs/feet.
I guess this long post brings me to this; I was trying to look on the bright side of all of this and it felt like it just kept coming at me. I was mad about it! But, I was brought up to make the best of things. Which I tried my best.
But tonight, I thought of a section of Roseanne Barr's book when she was detailing a similar situation. Here's the gist:
"I went to the store as a little kid and bought groceries for the family with money my mother gave me. I would walk to and from the store with 2 big bags...On my way out of the store, I saw an old lady that dropped some money and didn't realize it. I put my bags down and ran to get the money to give back to the old lady. I tripped when I ran through a pothole and fell.
It was then that I learned that God hates a kiss-ass."
More Musings Later-