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Posted 11 June 2022 - 03:50 AM
Treatments have ended. I'm deteriorating, but treatments have ended all the same. I tried so hard to be heard, and it didn't matter; symptoms persist, but the course of treatment is over, so out the door I go.
My doctor starts should-ing when I tell him I haven't recovered, e.g. "It should be working pretty well; cause you should be well and truly on your way to reversing it," and "it should be corrected completely."
Statements made between the second last, and last appointment, btw. A doctor's understanding of medicine needs to run deeper than one-size-fits-all guidelines. Wishful thinking will not stop this iron hell.
And since I'm not as useless, inept or refuse to help myself as my sister paints me, other than calling me in a panic with "you're a medical expert, right?" when her thyroid lit up, I now have my own supplies.
When I say that—sorry, headache, rageful, pained—what I mean is that I don't have to be at anyone else's mercy and can try my hand at darting the water-soluble hydroxocobalamin into my vastus lateralis.
And yes, that could sound less technical, but I find vastus lateralis amusing to say, enough so that doing the above at the prospect of oxygen dropping below brain damage levels again feels less frightening.
I preferred the idea of doing it myself when it was first recommended to me actually, but it took a while to acquire the IM needles; self-administration is normal in other parts of the world but unheard of here.
At least I got a blood test referral at the end. I asked if it was possible to check intrinsic factor, and he became enthusiastic, saying, "Yeah! we haven't actually figured out why you're low in B12, haven't we?"
It seemed he forgot his initial diagnosis of vegetarianism and asked me if I "eat anything like meat," but after I mentioned intrinsic factor, he suddenly declared he could do a full screen for pernicious anaemia.
I'm back on the bronchodilator today; I lasted six days without it, four days last week. I must have been off it for only four or five weeks total this year. Yikes. It's fine; I won't be on the blasted contraption forever.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
#329 
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Posted 15 June 2022 - 10:30 AM
Times b/p'd:
2/5 Monday: 1:20 pm-7:20 am. 18-3=15 hours.
3/5 Tuesday: 3:00 pm-8:00 pm. 5-1=4 hours.
4/5 Wednesday: 3:15 pm-7:15 am. 16-4=12 hours.
5/5 Thursday: 5:00 pm-2:30 am. 8.5-3.5=5 hours.
6/5 Friday: 7:30 pm-7:30 am. 12-4=8 hours.
7/5 Saturday: 5:00 pm-2:00 am. 8-2=6 hours.
8/5 Sunday: Fast over medical procedure.
TW:
Tons of side effects from the first round of IM B12 on the 1/5, violent response, nothing like the mild de-personalized clinical symptoms of possible effects I'd read about. Within about 60-90 minutes, I felt as if I'd been physically shot in the head with bullets made of millions of my own red blood cells, more specifically like I'd been shot in the sub-cortical structures of my brain. Nystagmus and cervical dystonia soon followed again, flashbacked to hypomagnesemia which is very fresh in my mind; seized. Most interesting to me was that after being "shot," the thoughts and memories in my head temporarily shifted tone and were almost devoid of negative affect. It's so hard for me to experience positive affect, so to suddenly have all these normally inaccessible warm feelings and memories come to the forefront of my mind shortly after this was unexpected and welcome. I guess that's what happens when oxygen that normally prioritizes your core reaches parts of the brain otherwise deemed optional in restriction.
Shortly thereafter, got shot again with more red blood cells, this time in the heart, and my pulse went insane, jumping around with a difference of 130 beats until I b/p'd to stabilize it 24 hours later. Oxygen was stuck at 88-90% when walking; I had my oximeter on silent under the sweater I was carrying on my arm. Then, I got shot a third time with more red blood cells, now in my right leg and seized some more in a restaurant where my nephew questioned, as he does all the time now, why I never eat. I went to lie down on two public benches for over an hour, using my mini backpack as a pillow, in a beautiful beach environment full of negative ions, while my sister took my nephew for a walk. I must have looked intoxicated; became aware of a man watching me a few meters away, and he told me not to worry because he loves me. I wanted to move but was too ill to escape the potential threat. He later sat down next to me, and that was when my sister and nephew returned.
The next four days involved more symptoms associated with deficiency that can also be the result of aggressive remyelination; burning neuropathy that threw me onto my cane—I needed the cane for 4-6 hours after the first four rounds, not due to joints but due to vertigo that takes 8-11 minutes to hit me afterwards, the vertigo was milder at round five and six. I don't normally have vertigo from my ED these days. I thought about going to the hospital within 48 hours of the first round because of the nerve and cardiac symptoms, and my mother shamed me for considering it; nothing new there. I also gained 2.2 kg the first five times, initially fearing organs quitting. I later realized that the weight was due to a water-soluble nutrient bypassing the digestive system after I pissed like a racehorse. Not sure if this all makes sense; I was off the bronchodilator, then on for two days, then off for two days again, and now my period is wiping me out from headache and plunging oxygen.
Total for week 18: 50 hours. An average of 7.1 hours per day. First time I broke 50 hours since last October, but given the circumstances, hardly a surprise. Going for a blood test in a few hours.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
#330
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Posted 17 June 2022 - 01:00 AM
Times b/p'd:
9/5 Monday: 2:00 pm-4:00 am. 14-2=12 hours.
10/5 Tuesday: 7:15 pm-2:45 am. 7.5-1.5=6 hours.
11/5 Wednesday: 11:40 pm-2:40 am. 3 hours.*
12/5 Thursday: 6:40 pm-8:40 am. 14-2=12 hours.
13/5 Friday: 10:10 pm-7:40 am. 9.5-1.5=8 hours.**
14/5 Saturday: 7:20 pm-12:50 am. 5.5 hours.
15/5 Sunday: Fast over medical procedure.
*A failed attempt to sedate to sleep; I had to b/p to get it to kick in, and then it wore off before I was done—stupid valium.
**My mother had a cardiac emergency in the morning. She went to the nearest medical centre for an ECG when they opened, and they sent for an ambulance; diagnosed atrial fibrillation. My nephew was here, so I looked after him by myself for all of Saturday like the good old days until my sister abruptly turned up to take him back to hers, where my mother now was. I was halfway through making him dinner, and he protested that he didn't want to go, but it's not like I had a choice about that. Finding myself unexpectedly alone in this silent, empty apartment at night, I finished cooking his meal, b/p'd it and more. I didn't want to; I had no urges and felt like I legitimately could have managed a nice OMAD, but taking away a bulimic's pride and joy and leaving them to stew in their thoughts while they're cooking without anyone else around is obviously going to result in b/p. I'd forgotten how easy it is to care for my nephew when I only have to focus on him instead of any abuse from my mother and sister; I become capable, centered, and gain energy I didn't know I could have from his presence, and have very few thoughts about my worthlessness when I have someone who I genuinely care about and vice versa without judgement or manipulation on either end. I can't imagine what it could be like if I had that kind of positive influence from one more person in my life.
Total for week 19: 46.5 hours. An average of 6.6 hours per day. I had the blood test yesterday; the phlebotomist was ill and/or depressed and used the horse-sized needle on me, and I was also too ill and struggling to sit upright after using the bronchodilator to realize until too late. So I spent a couple of hours outdoors, with intermittent nerve pain in that arm, unwell from joint blood loss. I came home, waited for my mother to go out, and put B12 into my thigh. Heh, I made that last part sound so casual. Like, yes, I just did this medical procedure for the first time, nbd. There's a lot to unpack there mentally; I've automatically compartmentalized it, so will access it when I'm ready.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
#331
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Posted 22 June 2022 - 05:20 AM
Times b/p'd:
16/5 Monday: 3:00 am-5:00 am. 2 hours + 8:20 pm-8:20 am. 12-2=10 hours.*
17/5 Tuesday: 6:30 pm-10:30 am. 16-4=12 hours.
18/5 Wednesday: 34-hour fast due to hypovolemia, sedatives after.
19/5 Thursday: 8:30 pm: 330 ml bottle orange juice, sedatives after.**
20/5 Friday: 1:00 pm-2:30 am. 13.5-3.5=10 hours.
21/5-22/5 Saturday-Sunday: 47.5-hour fast, half sedation, half exhaustion.
*My mother went back to the hospital in the morning; she returned ecstatic mid-afternoon two days later, citing the pulsating bed she had that couldn't be turned off for her miraculous recovery—that, and the digoxin, and the magnesium. I find it unfair how she received one to two bags of magnesium a day with low-normal magnesium levels in the hospital because of the cardiac benefits after the extraordinary confusion, pain, and suffering I went through at home without such luxuries, doing my own doctoring, heaping injustice on top of injustice as if I were a literary character to push and pull apart to pieces instead of a real person. It's not as if they treated her with uninterrupted respect and care, and I'm irritated but not surprised by some of the other aspects of both in-hospital and follow-up treatment around that, but overall, it seems cruelty is always rewarded.
My sister was not coping well, and I felt a bit...invisible? Lost in this idea I don't wish to be a part of; the idea that the severity of a person's condition is wholly dependent on whether they've been in the hospital or not. I resent when hospitalisation or the lack of it is used as proof of health or illness, rather than how they truly are. I remember my mother telling me early last year, towards the end of a bad hypokalemic spell when my heart & lungs were in paralysis for a fortnight, that I couldn't really be ill because anyone ill is always in the hospital...as if people who need urgent medical assistance are teleported into emergency at the first sign of crisis.
**That was the first and last time I purposely kept something down for all of May, and at the rate it's going, all of June. And I wish to ameliorate that but can't seem to figure out what I could feasibly do.
Total for week 20: 34 hours. An average of 4.8 hours per day. I put B12 in my thigh again yesterday. Too soon; I spent this morning reversing subsequent hypertension and hypokalemia, fixed both fast.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
#332
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Posted 26 June 2022 - 04:15 AM
Times b/p'd:
23/5 Monday: 2:00 am-9:00 am. 7-2=5 hours.
24/5 Tuesday: 10:15 pm-6:15 am. 8-2=6 hours.
25/5 Wednesday: 12:00 am-12:00 pm. 12-2=10 hours.*
26/5 Thursday: 36-hour fast of exhaustion**
27/5 Friday: 12:00 am-12:00 pm. 12-2=10 hours.***
28/5 Saturday: 4:10 am-8:10 am. 4-1=3 hours & 10:30 pm-7:30 am. 8-2-6 hours.****
29/5 Sunday: Almost a fast but not quite because bizarre sleeping habits are bizarre.
*But purging after every ten slices of cheeses or so due to hypermagnesemia after failing to titrate electrolytes around decreasing use of a bronchodilator.
**Due to hypertension unrelated to the hypermagnesemia—I didn't imagine I could go four days straight without ventolin in May—and nephew's presence.
***Paused shortly after my nephew awoke. I sang with him; unimaginable for so long. "You're a really good singer," he told me as I was beatboxing and rapping, both of which I spontaneously started doing last year after a decade of trying. Turns out that immersing yourself in what you want to learn eventually has results. My mother then took him to school, and I resumed as if I hadn't skipped a beat.
****Stupid amount of pain and effort to purge anything that day. Advanced anaemia is dreadful if I didn't emphasise it enough. I napped for six hours after the first set of b/p, had the second set of b/p, and got up three hours later for the appointment. Currently, five and a half days after round eight of IM B12, I have no trace of the headache, or oxygen dropping <85, or the need for breathing assistance.
Total for week 21: 40 hours. An average of 5.7 hours per day. Feeling flat; I haven't slept much today. Going to the theatre for the first time in three and a half years tomorrow.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
#333
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Posted Today, 02:30 PM
The stage production of Jane Eyre was wonderful. Indeed, it would be; I read it as a child, as I did many of the classics, and there's nothing like a story that drew me in at ten to distract me just as well in adulthood.
The theatre carpark had flooded, so my sister and I walked through the city to get there. It was cold, so I brought out the long wool winter coat I hadn't worn in a year and wore footless tights under my new trousers.
I upgraded my regular sub-tropical outfit to be theatre-appropriate with only that coat and wide-leg white trousers that looked so nice like they'd been tailored to me; they've got a sheen to them, despite being cotton.
They felt like satin and swished like silk when I walked. No idea how they treat cotton to turn it into something so luxurious. I looked fine with my black fedora, black coat, orange blouse, white socks and tan shoes.
It was an Edwardian-era theatre. Second-row centre. Sardine seating; near shoulder-to-shoulder. Toilet facilities—2 cubicles each—upstairs & downstairs; I would've been too anxious to pee in there as a teenager.
The actors! There were only four playing several characters each. I couldn't even see that they had microphones on their faces until halfway through. I'm so nearsighted, and my glasses are nowhere to be found.
The set design! The whole stage had a metal framework, and I did not expect one section of the framework to light up with flames when it did or that it all would be on fire for the scene where Thornfield Hall burns.
There was a smoke machine, and the actors lit candles several times. A woman directly behind us, who I think had been drinking, yelled, "Jesus Christ! You could have warned us!" when they simulated lightning.
She also proclaimed, "we've all heard that one before," when St.John spoke at Jane and applauded and cheered the loudest at the end. Performances never fail to make me wish I could also be up on the stage.
Reading this, I sound so different to myself. Plays and operas, like the ones I saw in my 20s, I must seek them out again. Clearly, they enliven me. Unsurprising for someone who's forever yearned to be in the arts.
Proud aunt to an active child, the apple of my eye.
ED'd 16.5 years. BN. Depression. NEAD. OCD. PTSD. Social Anxiety.
[(https://www.myproana...a-bulimic-aunt/)]
