Today Yesterday was great. I slept in a little bit, puttered around the apartment, got sushi, went and saw a movie with my good friend Deanna, then got some pizza and watched Argentina and Germany be very angry at each other during a world cup game, after which I came home to do laundry, putter some more along with watch the old live-action The Tick show on Netflix. I also needed some supplies and I have no concept of things being closed so I also thought it would be a good idea to head out and get some things at the nearby grocery store. It’s walking distance and I’d made the walk in the midday heat before, so I didn’t see that there would be a problem. Unfortunately, there was a little bit of a problem, and about halfway home, I started to feel fatigued and had to continuously readjust the distribution of everything I was carrying.
It has been awhile since I’ve felt this particular feeling and it (along with a few other things I drafted but never posted) has been quite jarring and has given me a sort of mini-wakeup of the fact that I do have myasthenia gravis, and that I’m either pumped pretty incredibly full of various medications, or I simply run out of puff at some point through the day.
This particular concept is difficult to explain to some people. I can wake up totally capable of hopping around and jumping into the shower and walking a few miles and speaking properly, even when I’m not on very much medication, but if I am not careful with what I do, I can pretty quickly become fatigued. Even with my medications as they currently stand, things like moving have been far more difficult, and I paid for several days after getting everything to my apartment, even with the help of all of my fantastic friends.
A fantastic read, about what this kind of thing feels like comes from “The Spoon Theory.” This woman and her best friend of several years were talking one day and the friend asks “What is it like, having Lupus?” The author was surprised and immediately started describing a bunch of the surface symptoms of lupus, general physical sickness, which is terrible. The friend pushed on and wanted to know more. What daily life is actually like with the disease, “what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.”
The result is that the author describes what she calls the spoon theory. Basically, in a chronic illness that involves fatiguing, you start your day with a certain number of “spoons.” These spoons, or any other counter, really, are a measure of what you can and can’t do on any given day. It’s extremely true. When I first got the disease, it was often the case that I could do normal things in the morning, either for a certain amount of time or just a certain level of activity, and then after a certain point, just be completely useless.
Although it has been better in the past several months, it’s still important for me to be aware of, especially as the levels for my medications get adjusted, or I need to do different things throughout the day. I have been trying to change my medication levels, so I can rely less on pyridostigmine throughout my day, and ultimately, I’d even love to be done with prednisone. So a few days ago I started to realize that my need for pyridostigmine has indeed reduced a little bit, but I took it to this extreme level that not only caused my grocery incident tonight, but also an incident a few days ago where I hadn’t equipped myself with enough time to get everywhere I needed to be, and therefore tried to rush over the cardiac hill on campus. Needless to say, it lived up to its name and about halfway up I definitely started to feel like I wouldn’t make it. Fortunately I did, but I had a few bad moments that day.
I have also been wanting to lay out what I think about comparing my disease to other diseases. I implied a comparison between myasthenia gravis and lupus earlier, but the truth is, based on what I’ve read Christine Miserandino, there just isn’t any comparison, Lupus is far worse.
Which brings me to something that happened with Glenn recently: he compared MG to another chronic disease, Crohn’s Disease. Crohn’s, my understanding has it, is a terrible terrible thing where your internal organs are all messed up. On the other hand, my understanding is that the the symproms of Crohn’s, from WebMD, happen to be the same as the symptoms I experience from just one of my medications: Headaches, feeling faint, stomach aches and sometimes, diarrhea and vomiting.
Although I want to think Glenn knows a lot about my condition, having lived with me and been kept up to date on it since it was diagnosed, I think I may be sorely wrong about his awareness of it. It starts in that he wouldn’t listen to my explaination of how MG is categorized between autoimmune disorders and neuromuscular diseases, and what those categorizations mean. It’s not like I haven’t been on Google quite frequently since late 2008, learning all of this stuff. At that point, his telling me that my disease was similar to this other disease was just adding to my frustration.
To put it simply… yes, I have miracle medication, but no, that doesn’t mean I’m without the disease or I don’t sometimes have to be conscious of it, and the comparison Glenn was making was that this other kid’s disease was as bad as mine.1 That’s simply untrue no matter how you slice it. His disease has visible symptoms as bad as simply one of my medications. If I weren’t on that medication, I could be falling over in crosswalks, choking and improperly swallowing bits of Taco Bell lettuce, and generally having a hard time at living life.
And so, I have the article that I now need to show to Glenn. A few of my friends have already become aware of it and from time to time even ask me about my spoons, a gesture which I appreciate more than I care to share. We’ll see how relevant it remains or becomes as the adjustments to my medications begin to take effect.
Footnotes!
1: That’s not to suggest that I’m unsympathetic to people with diseases other than MG. This is simply to suggest that when you’re perfectly healthy and you have a friend with a chronic disease, it is a bad idea to tell them “this other disease is worse” especially when that is factually false, and continue to insist that you’re correct.