Tag Archives: medication

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. The limits of better living through chemistry. My doctors and I like to play a fun game. The goal of this game is to wait until I am just about feeling normal and then decide it’s time to add, take away, or otherwise screw around with one or more of the medications I’m taking. The whole thing seems purposely designed to leave me feeling vaguely disoriented, tired, out or sorts, and anxious as often as possible. As we are closing in on a year of this abject medical fuckery, I’d hoped we were a bit closer to reaching some kind of steady state with all this. So far, however, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

2. Eternal cold. I’m approximately 2/3’s the man I used to be. Apparently all of that represents lost insulation and I am, therefore, always uncomfortably cold. I’m forever wandering around the house putting on additional layers. I have extra fuzzy coats at the office. I have four layers of blankets on my bed. Every seat in the living room has at least one blanket… and I generally use multiple while watching TV in the evening. File this as yet another problem that I foolishly assumed would somehow be resolved by now. It’s very strange not having any idea what was the last time that I really felt warm. I didn’t realize it was something I was taking for granted.

3. Streaming television. The number of people who look at me like I have 16 heads when I tell them I still subscribe to old fashioned cable television is pretty astronomical. I get everything from stunned disbelief to pitches for satellite, antenna, and every streaming platform under the sun. The truth is, aside from cost, I’m basically satisfied with cable. There’s one “box” to deal with and every program it supplies is available with the push of one or two buttons. My user experience with streaming services has rarely been so seamless. Whether it’s updating passwords, constantly switching between apps hunting for the generic “something to watch,” or some episodes of a series being available on one service while other episodes are on another, or the sheer cost of building out an array of stream services to match the programming natively available through cable. Most of my television “watching” is in fact, listening to television in the background while I do other things. Cable excels at performing this function. It simply doesn’t require any thought at all as something is always on when you push the power button. Sure, I’ll keep rotating through the myriad of streaming options as I slowly consume their “prestige television” contenders, but I don’t see any world where I’m happy with seven or eight streamers attempting to replace or replicate the proper channel surfing experience. I’m sure streaming is a brave new world for others, but for the foreseeable future, I don’t see it being much more than an add on for me.

On normalcy and not hitting the panic button…

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For as long as I can remember, every medical professional I’ve encountered told me that I’d feel better if I lost weight. Having lost a not inconsiderable number of pounds, I think they may have sold me a pig in a poke. The fact is, as far as I can tell, I don’t feel any better in February 2024 than I did in February 2023. How much of that is reality versus looking backwards with rose tinted lenses, I couldn’t tell you with any degree of accuracy.

I can say with some confidence that I’m feeling better today than I have since the end of June when all my latest health fuckery kicked off. I’ve worked myself off of being medicated for diabetes. I suspect the next time I see my GP, I’ll be instructed to start back off blood pressure meds. The anxiety, which at times was just about debilitating, has receded into a background hum which mostly crops up when I have the occasional odd ache or pain or when some vital sign pops off with an outlying reading.

Since none of my extremely well credentialed doctors seems to be concerned beyond “continue to monitor,” trying to get my head into a place where I don’t hit the panic button on a daily basis is probably the right thing, but it’s been challenging. Being someone who as a child was perfectly capable of worrying himself sick, this is a bit of a work in progress.

Even if none of that were true, I know I’m feeling better than I was in the summer and fall because my reading pace is picking up. Instead of sitting here in the evening holding a book and idlily flipping pages and being entirely distracted, I’m actually reading, comprehending, and burning through pages. My attention span is coming back. I’m intensely grateful for that… it’s been a long time coming.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Plumbing. My well’s pressure tank has had a slow drip for 18 months now. It’s one of those projects that I knew needed to be taken care of, but there was always something more pressing. Every couple of weeks I’d go down and empty the coffee can that was sufficient to contain the waters. A couple of times recently I found my coffee can full to running over after just a week. Since it’s the kind of thing that feels like it would inevitably let go during Christmas and facilitate a real crisis, I finally called out my usual plumbing outfit to make the fix – the ones who are good and fast, but absolutely not cheap. The thing about home ownership that no one tells you is that it feels like 90% spending money on stuff that’s entirely essential, but in no way is a joy to purchase. Anyway, I’ve got a brand new obscenely expensive pressure tank and associated couplings installed now so I guess that’s my Christmas present to myself.

2. Slack time. It’s not that I hate having slack time. Not really. Slack time through the week is very welcome, mostly. On telework days, there’s always more than enough alternatives to keep my attention until the next Thing To Do shows up in my inbox. When it falls on an “in office” day, though, it does make the time stuck in fluorescent hell drag on indefinitely. I suppose slack is just an occupational hazard this time of year… and with only two office days between now and the end of the year, the annual hazard will fix itself before long. Until then, I suppose the trick remains to look busy enough to avoid falling victim to anyone walking around with end-of-the-calendar-year good ideas.

3. Slowly unwinding. I know I should be happy it seems to be working, but I’m absolutely tired of the pace at which the anxiety causing metformin is slowly working its way out of my system. Six full days from my last dose and I continue to feel slightly less prone to panic as each of those days slips past. That’s not to say that there aren’t still a few bad minutes and hours in the mix. Still, we seem to have crossed some kind of threshold where there’s more good than bad… and that hasn’t been true in a number of weeks. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’m just a bit put out that it wasn’t the instantaneous relief I really would have liked to receive.

A tale about health, both mental and physical…

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For years, I listened to every medical professional I met tell me that I’d feel much better if I lost weight. Over the last six months, as you know if you’ve been following along, I’ve finally been following their advice. I’ve been following the very broadly defined advice of “eat less, move more.” In my case, that equated to about 30 minutes of pretty mild exercise – walking or time on the stationary bike – and a pretty fanatical devotion to tracking calories. Since July, I’ve been consistently losing right around 1% of my body weight every week.

Even as I’ve closed in on my initial goal of losing 80 pounds, I can’t say I felt better. Sure, I was a bit more flexible and found that taking the stairs wasn’t hell on my knees, but I felt increasingly awful. In fact, the more I lost, the worse I felt – physically and mentally. 

For the last six weeks, I felt like someone who was definitely not me. My head was in a constant fog, I was struggling to regulate my emotions, and was spending most days in a constant basket of worry and anxiety about everything and nothing. Even my blood pressure, which has been wonderfully controlled for months started to creep up past the “elevated” level towards hypertension. My primary care doctor preliminarily identified the problem as anxiety stemming from my cardiac health scare in June and July. He gave be a very small prescription for Xanax in hopes that would get me over the hump for the worse of the anxiety. I took it, but didn’t notice any difference at all. 

Last week, after a very tough weekend, I finally made an appointment with a behavioral health professional – a therapist – convinced that there had to be something going wrong with my head. My big beautiful brain has always been what I consider the natural gift I got – it certainly wasn’t athletic ability or good looks. Something messing with my brain has always been my nightmare scenario. 

In any case, the therapist I consulted with gave a preliminary diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder and instructed me to get back with my general practitioner to discuss options for going on anti-depression medication. I wasn’t thrilled, but honestly by this point was pretty desperate to get some relief and get my thinking back under control. Fortunately, I was able to get an appointment the next morning to talk with my doctor. 

We met for almost 45 minutes Friday morning while I described all my symptoms and he asked some probing and uncomfortable questions. A few in office blood tests later, we had ruled out a lot of physical possibilities and we’re closing in on saying yes, my brain was sick… or at least we were until I mentioned how disappointed I was with my weight loss as it seemed the more weight I lost the worse I felt. 

That sentence seemed to hit the doc like someone throwing a light switch. After consulting my chart again and reviewing the bloodwork results, he noted that “You’re still taking metformin…” He went on to explain that in some case, dramatic weight loss can actually send diabetes into a form of “remission,” meaning that it was entirely possible that we were treating for a disease that was no longer trying to kill me on a cellular level. Even though my home testing had never caught any evidence of classically low blood sugar, he speculated that the medication was, in fact, causing my system to mimic the body’s natural response to low blood sugar – releasing stress hormones among other things. It’s possible, he seemed to think, that I was experiencing a form of pseudo-hypoglycemia rather than a true mental health problem. He instructed me to immediately stop taking the metformin and see if that resolved the issues over the next week or so.

Today is my 3rd full day of not taking meds for diabetes in a very long time. I’m keeping a pretty close eye on my numbers, but my head is definitely clearer and I’m feeling much more like myself. I don’t want to call it a comeback just yet, but I’d dearly like to believe the answer to two months of increasingly feeling off kilter is as simple as not taking four little white pills. 

That’s a long way of saying that I have a new appreciation for just how important it is to be your own most forceful health advocate. To our collective detriment there’s still a stigma attached to seeking mental health treatment. There shouldn’t be. The brain is just another organ capable of misfunctioning. Getting help for it is no more problematic than seeking out a cardiologist for heart troubles. Without taking to a therapist, it’s hard to say how long I’d have just stayed mired down in a bad place. If you don’t take anything else from this screed, take this as encouragement that if you need help or need to talk to someone, go do it.

Anyone who thinks less of you for it can fuck directly off.

Feel free to tell them I said it. 

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Meds. One of the fun parts of being on the new blood pressure meds is that it puts most common decongestants on the embargoed list. If there was ever a motivation to get my weight down and off the prescription medication, it’s 100% so I can take a goddamned Sudafed and a shot of NyQuil instead of just raw dogging cold and flu season with hot beverages and an occasional spoonful of honey.

2. Covid. There’s been a time or two I’ve felt worse, but my week with Covid is definitely ranked. From the raging sore throat, to rivers of sinus drainage, to sleep no longer being a thing I do in any appreciable block of time, it’s just unpleasant. Add in the 36 hour saga of trying to get some antiviral meds and this third week of October is going in the books as a shit week of what has already been a shit year.

3. Protestant guilt. I’ve hoarded sick leave since the day I started working for our wealthy uncle. Last time I looked I’m sure I had something like 1800 or more hours of it on the books. So far this week I’ve taken 23 hours from that total. So why the good old fashioned Protestant guilt? Despite having more than enough in the bank, I know that my being out this week means there’s mostly been one guy doing what three of us were doing a month ago. I hate knowing he’s getting dicked over because I finally walked into the viral buzz saw. Admittedly, even if I were there I wouldn’t be capable of doing more than warming a seat while trying not to hack up my left lung. I hate that when I get my feet back under me there’s going to be a hellacious backlog of whatever came pouring into my mailbox this week. I feel badly about all of it… but I’m keeping in mind that sick leave is one of the more valuable components of my total compensation package and I’d feel even worse for not using it.

Good news… it wasn’t a heart attack…

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There are, as you know, things that I don’t discuss on social media. It’s an old fashioned notion, even sharing as much as I do, that some things at least ought to remain private. I say that only to note that what follows is an incomplete telling of the tale. The salient points, however, are unmolested.

My trouble started on a Wednesday night. I wasn’t doing anything more dramatic than sitting in the living room watching TV after dinner. Out of nowhere, my heart revved up to a roaring gallop and stayed there. No pain. No trouble breathing. No light headedness. I’ve never understood what people meant when they said they experienced an impending feeling of doom. I do now though. All in, the trouble lasted maybe an hour or 90 minutes before it began subsiding.

After first trying to power through it and then consulting the family medical professional, I eventually conceded that it was probably something I needed to have checked out. Shortly thereafter, I was being given the once over at the local emergency department, where they quickly ruled out a heart attack and monitored me for four hours before sending me on my way.

The next night, same time, same place, same experience. Well, not quite. It wasn’t as bad and didn’t last as long. It was still deeply disturbing and I spent the rest of the night felling like absolute trash.

By Friday morning, I still felt decidedly “off,” for lack of a better description. I later described it as feeling like someone had filled my head with wool and then pressurized it. I knew if I called for emergency services they’d just dump me back where I had been on Wednesday night. That wasn’t an especially comforting thought.

Whether it was entirely advisable or not, I drove myself over to the “main campus” facility of the local hospital system. After many of the same tests given to me two days earlier, but finally having met with two cardiologists, they confirmed that I wasn’t having and didn’t have a heart attack. Their most likely diagnosis was supraventricular tachycardia (SVT) – essentially a (probably) not life-threatening electrical problem in one of the upper chambers of my heart that can cause an erratic heartbeat.

They prescribed some new meds to slow my heart rate and scheduled me in for a proper cardiology appointment after which I assume we’ll start the full battery of diagnostic tests and determine a long-term treatment plan. My first proper cardiology appointment is later this week. 

I haven’t had any more incidents, but I spent the better part of a week feeling entirely wrung out. If it wasn’t for needing to feed the herd, it’s hard to say how little I’d have forced myself up off the couch. All told it was every bit of two weeks before my head stopped feeling wooly and I was able to concentrate for any length of time. Even the meds they gave me as a temporary expedient aren’t entirely benign. Over the last week or so a couple of side effects have gotten more pronounced and working with the medicos to get that dialed in has been significantly less than fun.

Look, I’m thrilled that the diagnosis is “not a heart attack,” but going into the second month of feeling like warm trash isn’t exactly the summer adventure I envisioned for 2023. I’ll know soon enough if this week marks the end of the beginning or if just kicks us right back to go. Given the abuse I’ve hurled at my body for 45 years, I should probably be impressed that it’s just now starting to seriously object. I only wish the good times would last a little longer. That not being the case, we’ll just have to play the ball from where it lies.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. The end of a long-running gag. Forty-four weeks after the new telework policy for supervisors (that was also supposed to be the new telework policy for employees) was published, my employer and AFGE Local 1904 were finally forced into terms by the Federal Service Impasses Panel. In their Solomonic judgement, the best solution was to split the baby. Rest assured I’ll cover that in more detail in a separate post. That said, the inability of the union and my employer to find their ass with two hands and a flashlight has featured in the lead off position of What Annoys Jeff this Week for the last 40 weeks. While I am pleased that a separate government entity has finally forced them to come to terms, I’m just a little bit sad that it’s a regular and recurring crutch I won’t have to lean on week after week. As I have yet to learn how my employer will choose to actually implement this newly imposed policy, though, I can’t help but believe we haven’t seen the last of telework being a prominent topic on Thursdays. 

2. Bad chicken. It’s not unusual for me to load up the crockpot on a telework day and cook up a dish I can eat multiple meals from over the course of the week. What’s helpful in doing that, though, is when the chicken I’m about to use isn’t something that should have been taken off the shelves a week before I bought it. Look, I absolutely blame the retailer here. There’s absolutely no reason poultry should be anywhere near a consumer a full week after its sell by date. That’s just absolutely shitty staff work. It would be easy to think about taking this rancid mess over to the customer service desk, but ultimately, I’m the one who picked it up, looked it over, and mistook the “9” for a 19. In the spirit of personal responsibility, I’m going to proverbially eat the $11 loss and heave the chicken parts over the fence in hopes some of the local wildlife won’t gag from it the way I did when I opened the package.

3. New meds. As part of the initial treatment for my suspected tachycardia, the doctors prescribed a new pill. I know there are a lot of people who object to being on medication of any kind, but I’m a big believer in better living through chemistry. If my issues can be mitigated with a pill, just tell me when to take it. To some degree that’s what they’ve done. One of the inconvenient side effects, though, is that in addition to driving my pulse down, it’s also got me feeling like my brain is operating at about 70% of normal speed. I’m still perfectly competent and can do everything I could do previously, but thinking it through takes a little longer. Even if we assume for the moment that this little white pill is doing what it’s supposed to be doing, I’m absolutely not a fan. Fortunately, I’m told it’s one of those side effects that should wear off once my body is fully accustomed to its new chemical make up. After a month, I’m still finding that some days are better than others, so file it firmly under “we’ll see.” 

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. AFGE Local 1904. Here we are 39 weeks past the “end of max telework” and the union, such as it is, still hasn’t come through on delivering the new and improved telework agreement. Now, I’m told, the alleged negotiation has gone so far sideways that it’s been sent to binding arbitration. Resolution to that could literally take years. So, we’re going to be grinding along for the foreseeable future with only two days a week like pre-COVID barbarians… as if 30 months of operating nearly exclusively through telework didn’t prove that working from home works. All this is ongoing while hearing stories of other organizations tucked in next door that are offering their people four or five day a week work from home options. I’m sure someone could make the case that there’s enough blame to go around, but since the updated and perfectly acceptable policy for supervisors was published 39 weeks ago, I’m going to continue to go ahead and put every bit of blame on Local 1904 for failing to deliver for their members (and those of us who they “represent” against our will) and for continuing to stand in the way like some bloody great, utterly misguided roadblock. No one’s interest is served by their continued intransigence. The elected “leaders” of AFGE Local 1904 should be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves.

2. Seeking approval. I needed approval on a concept package back on June 7th. That wasn’t my date, randomly pulled from the ether. That was the date echelons higher than reality said they needed it. Being a good staff officer, I did some backwards planning and placed the full package into our fancy automated senior leader review process on the 17th of May. That left 21 days – a full 3 weeks for them to review, object, make changes, or request substitutions. Not surprisingly, three weeks came and went with only radio silence. Two more weeks passed. Now we’re in Day 36 of review and two weeks past the deadline and finally word has trickled down that upon careful review, they want wholesale changes that bare little to no resemblance to what was sent in for perusal. Fine. I’m going to look like a dipshit when I send this along to the people who were expecting it way back in early June. This is the kind of thing that should be dead easy simple, but somehow every year turns into its very own fiasco. I don’t know why I expected this year’s effort to drag things across the finish line to be any different. 

3. Mail order pharmacy. I’ve been getting my meds through mail-order for years. Mostly it works reasonably well. My most recent refill order did not. The website said no, sorry, it can’t be done and referred me over to the 800 “customer service” phone number. I gamely called customer service, to be notified by the automated system that my request had been received and was processing. So now I have one automated system saying a refill is too hard to do and one saying that everything is good to go. It’s hard not to appreciate that level of consistency. The actual human person I was able to talk to after repeatedly screaming “representative” at the phone assured me that they order had been processed and would be in the outgoing mail by the end of the day. It’s supposed to arrive tomorrow, but I’ll believe it when I see it.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. AFGE Local 1904. Here we are 24 weeks past the “end of max telework” and the union, such as it is, still hasn’t come through on delivering the new and improved telework agreement. So, we’re still grinding along with only two days a week like pre-COVID barbarians… as if 30 months of operating nearly exclusively through telework didn’t prove that working from home works. All this is ongoing while hearing stories of other organizations tucked in next door that are offering their people four or five day a week work from home options. It’s truly a delight working for the sick man of the enterprise. I’m sure someone could make the case that there’s enough blame to go around, but since the updated and perfectly acceptable policy for supervisors was published 24 weeks ago, I’m going to continue to go ahead and put every bit of blame on Local 1904 for failing to deliver for their members (and those of us who they “represent” against our will) and for continuing to stand in the way like some bloody great, utterly misguided roadblock. No one’s interest is served by their continued intransigence. The elected “leaders” of AFGE Local 1904 should be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves.

2. Scheduling. Short of hiring an assistant there simply isn’t a mathematical way to give Anya her medication as scheduled on days when I can’t avoid being in the office. I suppose I could take a two hour lunch every day and double my commute to two 40 mile round trips a day. Maybe I could do that for a week or two, but if the meds end up running for a month? Longer? Yeah. No. I’m fairly fanatical about getting these guys the best care I can find, but after all these years and all these animals, I’ve never cracked the code on how the hell to give them medicine every eight hours, or worse, god forbid, every six. At least three times a week there’s a middle-of-the-day dose that just doesn’t happen, so if you’ve worked out a solution, I’m all ears.

3. Russia. Are we really supposed to take a country that rolls out 60-year-old tanks to replace their “modern” armor lost in combat and then uses a manned fighter jet to sideswipe an unmanned drone seriously as a country? That’s before we even consider their questionable standing as a regional power, let alone their once held status as one of the world’s two superpowers. The Russians, like the Soviets before them, have always been a little bit “different.” Maybe it’s just me, but lately the tired old antics of the ailing Russian bear seem to make it much more an object of mockery and scorn than any kind of fear or intimidation. If they haven’t been doing the work to maintain even their most basic equipment in fighting shape, I’m left to wonder what are the chances they’ve had the time, expertise, and money to maintain anything more than the illusion of a strategic deterrence force. 

Anxiety and frustration…

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The internet is truly a font of information. Need to know how to replace the front end on a 1953 Buick? There’s a YouTube video for that. Interested in watching other people play video games? There are more streams than any one person could ever hope to watch. There are endless “how to” blogs and videos on every topic you can imagine. The thing is, they should all probably warn you that your mileage may vary. 

Every veterinary video I’ve watched in the hopes of picking up tips and tricks for making our daily routine of eye drops and oral medication more tolerable has exactly one thing in common: They each use the most quiet, docile cat imaginable for the demonstration. No hissing, no spitting, no teeth or claws, barely even a head bob while the person fiddles and fools with their test subject. Not one single video I’ve seen has featured an angry, hostile, animal who has had minimal handling and only basic socialization with people.

The other comment, popular throughout Reddit, is that giving medication to cats “can be a two-person job.” Hey, that’s fantastic information and all, but is the expectation that I’m going to hire my own vet tech to drop by three times a fucking day for two weeks or more? Advice, it seems to me, is best when it’s practical.

That’s all a lot of words to say that the best advice available online hasn’t been particularly useful in my current situation. In the struggle just to get the job done, I’ve fallen back on the very old school (and frowned upon by those endorsing the modern, kinder and gentler approach) method of grabbing this poor cat up by the scruff of her neck and getting the treatment done by brute force. I don’t like it. She very much doesn’t like it. I have grave concerns that I’m poisoning what should be our prime time for bonding and trust building… But short of sending her off to medical boarding for the duration of the treatment, I’m simply at a loss of how else to proceed. 

I’m ending this week full of anxiety and deeply frustrated.