#It's such a House MD-ass type of diagnosis.

[torchickentacos]

New way to cope with immune issues: viewing your immune system as an utterly incompetent minion or henchman of some sort that insists on fighting literally everything it comes across, much like Team Rocket trying to give Giovanni every random pokemon they find even though he asked for literally none of that and does not want them. Alternately, my immune system is a dog and I am shouting 'LEAVE IT' as it tries to attack things like stress or the fact that it's cold outside or perhaps just bad vibes. It is a cat bringing me dead mice in the form of allergic responses and I'm going 'oh. okay. I don't want this. thanks I guess. please stop'

[divine-noire]

Mononucleosis Awareness Post

So I caught Mono participating in Hot Girl Summer™ (jk jk lmao) but I did get Mono, and this shit is not a fucking joke. If you feel like you might have it, please go to the doctor. Over the past 4 weeks, I have been going through literal medical hell from complications. I’m gonna list the symptoms I’ve had and if you feel like you might have it, go get looked at. I thought Mono was something only horny ass teens got in high school playing spin the bottle, I’m 26 (27 next month) and was NOT expecting this shit at all.

Fatigue

My first symptom that something was wrong was fatigue. This is not normal, everyday fatigue. This is actually waking up and feeling like the world is ending when you take your first step, fatigue. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. While driving, I put my emergency break on at red lights because I was afraid I would fall asleep while at the standstill. At work, if there were no calls, my head was down (luckily, my boss is only here twice a week so I could get away with this). At home, I was in bed by 6PM and when you do sleep, it’s immediate. There is no gradual lulling off to sleep. It’s face-meet-pillow-meet-morning-alarm type of sleep. But I was still tired no matter how much I slept so I started using No Doze to counteract the effects. At first, it was fine, but even then, I still had the underlying fatigue. It got so bad, I drove over a friend’s house in Greenbelt, MD which is about an hour and a half away with rush hour traffic, using every bit of energy I had in my body to get to her, because she said she would take care of me, which she did. But by the time I pulled up to her house, I basically almost fell out of the driver side door when she opened it for me. That is not an exaggeration, that is the level of exhaustion I felt from just driving that far without sleeping. We thought I had the flu or something flu-like, so she gave me fluids and alot of Day & NightQuil. It made the symptoms lessen, but it never made them go away.

Sore Throat

At the beginning, my throat merely felt scratchy. This lasted for about 3 days, before I knew it, my voice was gone and my throat was in so much pain I gave up talking. The pain is not akin to Strep Throat, if you’ve had that before. It is actually worse. My throat was swollen as a symptom of the virus, but it graduated into its own infection of severe Tonsillitis. It was so severe that I actually began having trouble swallowing from the amount of swelling that it caused. I had to receive a steroid injection in my butt to counteract the swelling and start methylprednisone (which wasn’t strong enough and I had to go back for regular prednisone 20mg). I couldn’t eat anything without pain, so I stuck to drinking a lot of fluids and ice water. Ice water became my guardian angel because my throat was in a constant state of burning pain. I also grew exodus on the back of my throat, past my tonsils, as a result of the infection in my throat, and had to gargle salt water like crazy everyday to get them out. The exodus hurts, it is hard and feels like cement on the back of your throat and it makes the Tonsillitis 10x worse than it already is. I didn’t have a voice at all for 12 days, I had to use a dry erase board for all interactions (it’s quicker than typing on my phone.) 

Nausea

Now my case may be different because the doctors keep telling me my nausea shouldn’t have gone on as long as it did and that I need to go see a Gastroenterologist ASAP but that’s a different story for a different post. Nausea was my worst and most persistent symptom to date. The kind of nausea you may feel will be persistent. I woke up nauseous to the point of my mouth salivating as though I were about to vomit everyday for about 2-2.5 weeks. This never settled. There was never a time my mouth was not salivating, I had to begin keeping paper cups at my desk to spit the residual saliva into throughout the day because it never subsided. One day, I had a salad for lunch from Panera even though I wasn’t hungry, I knew I should try to eat something. (By this time, my throat had made some progress and I could swallow some whole things.) I immediately regretted that decision when I lay in bed at midnight holding my stomach like the world was ending. I was so nauseous that I couldn’t get myself together enough to even get out of bed. The thing that makes the nausea symptom so bad (for me) is that it never made be actually vomit, it just created the sensation of needing to. Eventually, I broke down and stuck a straw down my throat just to alleviate the symptom a bit and threw up the salad, and it didn’t even look like it’d been digested properly. That made the nausea go away for the night, and after that I gave up eating anything solid hoping that would prevent any future nausea, spoiler alert: I was wrong. My salivating mouth picked up right where it left off, it was as though all I went through the night before didn’t even matter. My stomach was empty and still nauseated. That night, the nausea was so bad that I just knew something was off and I drove myself to the ER (Note: I drive myself to the ER that is less than 10-minutes away all the time to save money on an ambulance, if you feel you are not safe to drive, dial 911, it is better to just pay the ambulance than cause an accident and make your situation worse than it already is.). When I got there, I was beyond exhausted, nauseous, dizzy, I just felt like I was dying. The doctor brought me back, took my vitals, asked the usual questions. I told him about the nausea, the Mono diagnosis, he said he wanted me to get a temporary room while he ran some tests. I got a room and a nurse came in and gave me a shot of Zofran for the nausea that did absolutely nothing. It was so bad that when he came back in, I asked for Ipecac or a straw to induce vomiting again. Alarmed, he said they wanted to avoid me vomiting and gave me an additional shot of Zofran. That helped that time, but I still just felt overall terrible. The doctor came in later and told me my potassium levels were extremely low, explaining the extreme fatigue and dizziness, that my liver was swollen from the Mono, and that the nausea was alarming and he would be admitting me for treatment. I was shocked that this virus had done such a number on me. My throat had even worsened and was now even more swollen and painful than it was before (I hadn’t gotten the 20mg prednisone script yet.). I spent 2 days with an IV in my arm, eating mushy foods and sleeping in the hospital. I had to take off work because I was in no shape to even drive there, let alone get anything done. After the 2 days went by, I actually felt back to my normal self! I was so fucking happy to exist and not feel like dying after weeks of wanting to that I went home and started cleaning my room. I had let it get atrocious from not feeling well or feeling like doing anything besides sleeping. Shortly after I began, the fatigue kicked in, the only symptom to never leave, and I sat my ass down and watched Rick & Morty with Sebastia and went to sleep instead, which was probably the safer bet. Fast forward 8 nausea-free days, and guess what’s back??? It’s tolerable now, but still an extreme nuisance. I get my Zofran prescription and it does didly fucking squat to alleviate the nausea. I call the Urgent Care that diagnosed me and ask if there’s anything stronger for nausea and they tell me all the stronger shit will have me bedbound and loopy. Bills gotta get paid so we can’t have that. So that night, in a moment of nauseous desperation, I took double the dosage of the Zofran to alleviate the discomfort. Now, I understand I shouldn’t have done this, but I was DESPERATE and afterward, I felt great. It was the first time the medicine had done wtf the doctors said it would do and the way it was supposed to: quick, fast and in a motherfucking sprint. So I stupidly called the Urgent Care to ask them about the nausea medicine again (I have such a good relationship with this UC for some reason, probably because I hate my primary.) and told them what I’d done the night before and that I was now out of nausea meds and needed a refill before it came back, which was all true. Jessica, the nurse I always saw, was alarmed and spoke to the doctor on duty there, and told them about what I did. Then they cut me off and said to go ask my Primary for the refill because I’ve been utilizing them way too much (long story short). But she also said that I shouldn’t need that much Zofran and something else is going on and I need to be seen by a Gastro. That $40 co-pay appointment is still pending. Andddd I’ve been nausea-free for about a week now, but as I type this, my mouth just began salivating so it looks like I’m gonna be dealing with that again soon. Fuck.

Dizziness

My dizziness didn’t come full force until about 4 days ago (Week 4). I was out at a shopping center getting groceries and while I was parking at a nearby Dunkin Donuts, the world legit started slanting. I felt like I’d been drugged all of a sudden. My skin felt cold and clammy, everything felt out of focus and I immediately needed to lie down. Luckily, it came right after I’d put my car in park and had the opportunity to put my seat back and do so. I waited about 10 minutes maybe, and then I felt ok enough to get out and go get some food because I thought I was just hungry because I hadn’t eaten yet. Even standing in line and waiting for the food afterward was difficult. I had to sit down or else I’d fall down. I got back in my car and ate and laid down again, went back to the store to get eggs I forgot to grab before, and on the walk back to my car almost walked into another parked car. Of course, people saw and probably thought I was drunk or something. I was embarrassed but didn’t have the motor skills energy to explain the situation of feeling like I was in 2 bodies at once. This symptom has come and gone as it pleases, but luckily after a good 2-hour nap that day when I got home, I felt alot better. 

Poor Appetite

While battling this virus, I have lost 10 pounds and still counting in the past 4 weeks. While it’s great to fit into clothes I was once too thick to get past my thighs, it is not the way I wanted to lose the weight. In the beginning, I always felt full no matter what, which made me not want to eat, combined with the nausea, it made eating something I just wasn’t in the mood to ever do. This went on for weeks, which caused the weight loss. I learned later that my swollen liver pressing against my stomach is what caused the sensation of fullness, hence, not ever feeling like I should eat. Now, my appetite has returned, and I’ve been eating nothing but starchy, fatty nonsense my diet never would’ve allowed before I got sick. And even with all the newfound calories I’ve been non-stop digesting (seriously guys, pizza 5 days straight, bread bowls, bacon egg and cheese croissants, cheesecake, donuts...) I’m still shedding pounds. My Gold’s Gym Membership is gathering dust because I can’t go workout with my body still always in fatigue-mode and it’s probably just not kosher to do with this kind of virus. My mom said I should celebrate for now until it becomes a cause for concern later, but I think I should probably be concerned now since the earlier you find something out the better health-wise. I lowkey did some research and think I might have Hepatitis-C from the virus, which is curable, but sucks all the same if I’m right. I inherited my mother’s extremely poor immune system, so I really wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll post before and after photos of my weight loss separately, don’t want Tumblr turning me into the Face of Mono™ because of this post. 

Swollen Lymph Nodes

This was one of the lesser symptoms that went away by week 2-2.5. They are definitely sensitive and noticeable. I found that icing them alleviated a lot of the discomfort and made it tolerable, but overall, these were the least of my worries.

If you experience any of these symptoms or think you may have Mono, definitely get yourself checked out. They can do a rapid test at any Urgent Care or ER and let you know during your visit if you have it. This shit is not a joke. I’m still dealing with the symptoms right now and have no inclination of when they will be gone. The literature says anywhere from a few weeks to a year, I’m praying for the initial option but I have no way of knowing for sure. I say all this to say, pay attention to and know your body, guys. You only get one. 

[itsdearsuga]

Grief: The Story of My First Major Loss.

Growing up, I only went to 2 funerals until I reached my 20’s.

My Grandfather, who was barely present in our lives. He was a man with his own set of issues, and we always had to stay in the car when we visited him those 3-4 times.

Then my late Pastor from Mowing Glade A.M.E Zion, who had mysterious health issues and eventually left us once the plug was pulled at a local hospital in Charlotte, where I once lived.

I was barely a 4th grader when both of these deaths occured in my life.

I always saw death as a catalyst for sympathy. I never truly understood it, I just knew it was a huge deal. If someone died in a person's life, I expected them to be out of school for like a month and for them to cry every 5 minutes. I just knew death to be this sad thing that was inevitable in people's experiences.

That was, until Granny’s diagnosis.

She was an avid snuff user, and growing up there was always a can of that black tar like substance that she spit out by the fireplace. I knew she spit in there but we always stayed as far away from that cursed can as possible. One day my cousin, sister and I knocked it over, and I honestly thought I was going to pass away my damn self. She used that stuff for over 50 years, some say since she was 8, and once I was in college, we received news that she had an extremely aggressive form of mouth cancer. When you’re a certified pessimist like myself from time to time, you’d probably hear the word cancer and think of the worse. But for me at that moment, it was a little different. I tried to muster up all the hope in the world for my grandmother. She cared for me and all of my cousins, she was my coffee buddy every sunday after church, I always made her laugh and we always sat on those rocking chairs on the porch, listening to the soft windchimes that clanged melodically in the countryside breeze, or played checkers in the cracker barrel before we were seated to go eat…  I remembered every bit of love and hope she gave me, and in that moment of hearing that news, I tried to return it all back to her. In all the things she handled in her years, it couldn’t be the snuff of all things that took her off this world. She held our family together, but unfortunately, the more sick she became, the more tensions rose amongst my loved ones. I never was the type that liked to talk in my family. It was a Hi then Bye kind of vibe when I walked in the room. Someone could look at my sketchbook, say I’m going to be the next picasso or something with an uncomfortable amount of enthusiasm and then keep it moving, It’s whatever. I only held long conversations with a select few in my family, but I typically kept to myself with a straight face. That’s where Granny came in with my nickname when I was kid. She called me “Suga” because of the irony of me being anything but. I hated that nickname for a long time, I thought it was to tease me, but she only called me that until, well, she passed. Her sickness was a long, grueling time in my life and my family’s lives. They fought over who took care of her, my aunts and cousins, and all I could do is watch the drama ensue or hear it over the phone from a distraught cousin all the way from Maryland. In the spring of 2018, our lives changed forever.

“Her tumor keeps coming back, they’re going to have to remove and replace the jaw.” These were the words I was told about the fate of my grandmother in the next coming weeks. This was also after she had ridiculous amounts of treatment. The granny I once knew as being a sturdy weight, eating alongside us , full of laughter and life, grew frail. She was always holding her jaw and groaning. She could barely say much without it causing her pain. It hurt like hell to see. I took time off of school and headed back to Charlotte for a little while, promising to handle my homework while I was gone. I barely slept that week. The hospital waiting room was full of loved ones during the operation, and I’ll never forget the moment before she was wheeled back. I was the last to see her, and that was the last time I heard Suga for quite awhile. Nonetheless, we played card games, visited the panera downstairs and anxiously sat and waited. Eventually, the surgery was over, and we went home while she was in recovery. Once back at the house, I only heard horror stories. One aunt said she looked like Emmett Till post surgery. I sat and listened to the hushed voices of all of my aunts as they talked about how she looked, but my mother hadn't seen her just yet. We were both worried and that was the first time I saw her cry. I could only hold her and try my best to reassure her that it can’t be that bad, but we had our own issues on top of this with our living situation, that would definitely be another blog post for another day. I stayed in my grandparents bedroom, anxiously doing my homework and talking on the phone to stay up and sane, drinking energy beverages and taking smoke breaks all night. It was hard, and I couldn’t sleep thinking about the major changes to a face that was so familiar to me. We eventually made our way to the hospital. When we arrived, I was definitely surprised. Her face was extremely swollen, and it looked as though her entire face was fused under the nose. I said nothing and when I walked in, my mother gave me a certain look as though it wasn't necessary to stay. I stayed. For days. If I wasn't by her bedside trying to teach her little signs in ASL that’d she’d eventually say whatever to and not use at all, or talking to her about how much of a pain in my the ass my classes were, I was in the lobby of the hospital, typing my essays tirelessly and staying sleep deprived. Eventually we went back to MD, and I only saw her from time to time when we went back home those few times. She didn't talk for more than 6 months, and phone calls were difficult, but when she got the ball rolling, she called my mom everyday and I eventually heard my nickname all over again. I was hopeful, until around valentines day of this year. I was working on a painting for her. One morning, she got really sick, with something like the flu, and the chemo and treatments were already too much for her immune system. I was at school that day, bitching about my work and getting annoyed at my dad's numerous text messages asking me where I was. My mom was in Greensboro for work at the time. I eventually came home and my dad told me to sit down.

Now at this point, I did experience my fair share of death, but nothing too close to me where I was broken. Nothing, besides Kaya maybe , but that loss broke me in regards to my place of empathy. And that story is another one in it’s own right. But I was truly oblivious to why my dad would need me to sit down so urgently. I guess a part of me was in a place mentally where I promised to see her again, and something in my psyche was reassuring myself that she wouldn't go anywhere until I could make that happen. Another part of me was too scared to hear what he had to say. Sure enough, I heard the worst. She was gone, and in that one moment, my entire world fell apart.

The drive after was the worst part.

I thought about the blackberry picking we did if we wanted a pie,

I thought about the times she took my scrap drawings and framed them, telling me that even the worst ones to me were everything to her.

I remember all the times I would hear my Nickname.

And everytime I heard it in my head, I was shattered all over again.

This was 6 months ago.

Now, I think I’m beginning to understand grief a little better. It feels like a never ending one way street, With an occasional traffic circle that doesn't tell you where the exits are going to take you.

Some exits take you on a beautiful scenic route, where you feel a little more comfortable to reminisce on the better days with that person, and some exits are rainy and disgusting. No matter how fast the windshields are going, you still can't see the road ahead even with the high beams on, and on top of that, you’re getting motion sickness, and it’s fucking brutal.

Grief is never a straight shot. It feels like one for a while, but the roundabouts are unexpected. Sometimes they show up after around a half a mile, and other times, they don't show up for about 7 or 8 miles.

Either way, they’re a journey that almost everyone takes, and it's okay if there's trouble on the trip because we’re human.

Love Always, Suga.