It’s spring here in Colorado. The first baby bunny appeared this week, and the plants in the yard are starting to burst out in green buds. The roses are looking like they are going to do really well this year (except for that one that the bunnies ate…) and there was a huge outbreak of my little bulb flowers in the front garden. I have new cushions for my patio swing, and I sit in the sunshine, reading and drinking my morning latte, every warm morning. On chilly mornings I wrap in a favorite shawl and stay out with the cats as long as I can. The first grasshoppers of the year have arrived for the cats to chase, and the air is filled with birdsong. There are even blue jays!! Good days.
A couple of day have been so warm I couldn’t stay in the sunshine long and I’ve had to deploy the umbrella shade. Then, the next day, there may be snow. This is spring in Colorado: rapid changes and big temperature swings. The same is true for the barometric pressure; look at what happened this week.
My emotional stability has been a little like the air pressure the last couple of weeks as I’ve gone through a round of testing and doctor’s appointments. I was very upbeat when I went in to get my blood draw to check my iron levels, and the bone density scan last month was just routine. I mean, I’ve been feeling soooo much better: more energy, sleeping better, more mentally alert and even my appetite has improved. Suddenly my gut doesn’t hate me, and I am getting out of the house more. I went to my knitting group for the first time in months! I was positive that my test results would reflect the improvement.
Not so much. After weeks of eating iron-rich foods and downing my iron supplement there was absolutely no change in my test results, and in fact, the test that measures the concentration of hemoglobin in individual red blood cells (MCHC) got worse. Seriously? The only gain was one value of 25.5 that went up to 25.6; still too low. After all that red meat, salmon, iron pills, avocado, and spinach all I got was 0.1 improvement? Kind of disheartening as this means that I have to have some invasive testing to see if I’m bleeding in my stomach (it’s a scleroderma thing), and I don’t think my doctor will put it off much longer. (It’s called watermelon stomach) (fabulous) (of course this is rare) (my zebra self is not happy).
Then the bone density scan results arrived. I have somehow developed a fairly serious case of osteoporosis in a short time span; the report says to start immediate treatment. Then I did some googling and found out that the diuretic that I take can cause osteoporosis, and I absolutely shouldn’t have been taking it because I have a strong family history and I’m kind of high risk. (Of course I am) (I stopped the diuretic) (now my feet are swollen) (my zebra self is crying).
I have to be honest. I was kind of crushed by the bad news that I absolutely did not expect. Then I mentally slapped myself around, did my exercises, potted some lavender plants, and went shopping on Amazon for some cheer-me-up jewelry. Just what I needed to pull myself together. One day at a time, right? I already have more than my share of challenges, so I shouldn’t waste any energy on things that haven’t happened yet. Next week I have an appointment with my internist, and we’ll work out a treatment plan for the osteoporosis and next steps for the anemia. (I took another iron supplement) (my inner zebra has pulled itself together again) (the zebra wants to point out that its lips aren’t as blue as they used to be).
Today I woke up to a snow/drizzle mixture that was too unwelcoming for even Mateo to go out on the catio. All my joints hurt, and my muscles weren’t sure if they were going to play nice either. Of course, I had to drive across town to get lung testing and a sit-down appointment with my pulmonologist to go over all my results. I put on my cute Weekender Crew sweater, wore my new “in your face, scleroderma!” jewelry, and headed off for the testing. It hurt to breath as I walked into the building. I convinced myself that it was just the cold air; after all, I feel pretty good, and I was overdue for some good news.
The lung testing specialist is now my friend. We laughed and talked and caught up as she got me ready for testing, and then I breezed through all the parts of the pulmonary function testing and the 6-minute walk test. Every single result was cause for celebration as Stephanie (my technician) became more and more excited with the little graphs and data appearing on the computer screen. “This is better!” she kept saying. By the last test she was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “This is great! This is great! she crowed as she walked me to the exam room to see my pulmonologist. “I’ll let him know that you are here.”
I love this pulmonologist. He is the doctor who first listened to me and picked up on the fact that I had a hole in my heart and pulmonary hypertension. He held my hand and told me I could cry when my interstitial lung disease was first diagnosed. He has always been the doctor who was most honest with me; he told me last year after the tide had turned that they hadn’t been sure I would make it a year. He supported me when I halted the anti-fibrotic drug due to quality-of-life concerns. Today he was all smiles as we went over the results and my exam. My lungs have maintained on the scans. I have regained some lung function. The decision to halt the drug was the right one; there is no obvious sign of fibrosis right now. This is the best possible outcome right now; everything that he hoped for. I was the last patient he saw today, and he was pleased to have such a good one. “Best appointment of the day!” he declared as he walked me out. We were both enclosed in a bubble of joyous happiness as we walked.
Outside the clinic the parking lot was almost empty. The cold drizzle was steady, the sky was full of sad lumpy grey clouds, and the gloom of early evening was creeping in. Around the building some ornamental trees were just beginning to open their flower buds, but in the shelter of the courtyard on the south side, the sunniest location, one tree was covered in blooms. Kind of a metaphor for the last couple of weeks. Sit in the sunshine and bloom, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
On the drive home, in my mind, my zebra self was dancing for joy.
Yarn, Books & Roses 