A year...

One year ago today, I awoke to shocking in both my hands.  It feels as if I am touching a live wire.  Again and again and again.  My fingers jerk.  And now, sometimes, the sensation shoots up my forearms and they jerk, too.

A year.
An entire year.
24/7.

Yesterday, I went ahead and opened a case with the patient advocate's office at Parkview with having my MRI appointment canceled for the third time.  I honestly cannot believe that, now, they are saying my leads are too dangerous to have in the machine.  That's just balderdash!

The research that led, in part, to the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) to change its stance on coverage for MRIs for those with implantable devices shows very clearly that, with the proper protocol, it is safe to have someone with an implantable device in the machine.  Even if I had a regular pacemaker.  But I have one DESIGNED to go into MRI machines.  So, to me, eleven months of arguing over this is DRIVING ME NUTS.

However, I also feel the fight has left me.  It was all I could do to make the call.  I did, though, because I know my cardiologist's staff are breathing their heads against a brick wall that shouldn't be there.  This might help them.

Maybe.
Probably not.
You know my luck.

So, well, I was thinking as I was typing above, that I didn't have much to show for the day.  Therefore, I determined to make some bacon bits and a batch of lentils.  Only, when I started cooking, I started sweating and shaking.  I kept thinking that it was far too early for such and was a bit grumpy, flinging my supplies about the kitchen.  Then, I realized the problem.  I was having a massive blood sugar crash.

I don't know how it is for others, but I get to this point where getting food into my body becomes a primal, visceral need and I turn into a cavewoman, crouched in front of the refrigerator, shoving food into my mouth hand over fist. When I get this way, I oft end up eating too much.  I try to be restrained, knowing it takes time for the glucose and the food to bring my sugar back up.  Usually, I fail anyway.

My plans for extra productivity went out the window, though I did make the bacon bits.  I oft use them for when I need extra sodium because my blood pressure is low.  But I was not able to do anything else.

Only ... only I had already ordered my meds, emptied the dishwasher, stripped the bed and remade it, showered, and washed, dried, and folded a load of laundry.  That is a lot of labor for me.  Too much, at times, really.  Why can't that be okay?  Why do I feel guilty for being ill?  For not being productive each and every day?

SIGH.