K, so I got no new ideas for TB stories now that I got myself into the commitment of coming up with a week-and-a-half's worth. Oh well.
I'm going on vacation. That's right. Me and my woman are heading west. This'll be the last financial hurrah before we're both graduate students and living in shitty & CHEAP graduate student housing.
We're driving from LA to Seattle and camping along the coast the whole way. That's right, stimulus check: we're taking you to Cali. If you want some of that great roadtrip mail art we're famous for, just let us know where you live and we'll send off something rad from the road.
It'll be a good way to say a final goodbye to Minnesota winter cuz' by the time we get back, the garden should be greener and the temperature should be quite warm. I am so ready!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
6 days
I just took my 7th to last pill today and realized I'd miscounted. I only have 6 days left now. I thought I'd reveal my miscalculation today rather than at the end when it would be anticlimactic.
I'm writing a final paper and applying for a job. It's a Saturday night. So, I'll leave it at that for today.
May you all enjoy your healthy livers and lungs in thoughtful memory of my plagued ones.
I'm writing a final paper and applying for a job. It's a Saturday night. So, I'll leave it at that for today.
May you all enjoy your healthy livers and lungs in thoughtful memory of my plagued ones.
Friday, May 9, 2008
8 days
Having latent TB in Minnesota versus having latent TB in California (which is where it was first detected) were distinct experiences. Wouldn't have guessed that, would you have?
I believe four different nurses in California read my skin test results. Three of the four were nurses whose sole job was to work with TB patients. They knew what they were doing and they did it like it was the most important thing in the world.
I imagine them going to happy hour together once in awhile and sitting back to talk about all the TB cases they'd had that week. "Ooh, that blood and septum case, goodness!" One would say, needing catharsis about the most advanced patient of the week. "It's a good thing we can drink 'cuz that guy has enough antibiotics to shut down his liver in a week if given alcohol! We have to call him every day and make sure he's complying with his meds!"
When I did my own research and got scared of the side effects of the prophylactic antibiotics those nurses tried very hard to convince me to start immediately, I stopped talking to that clinic. Then, another county nurse started to call me. About once every two months for a year I got a call from her. She was calling to see if I'd started my meds yet and if not, did I need more information? Was I sure?
The thing about taking the latent TB meds is that it's not required, but due to a worldwide public health campaign to deal with the current TB epidemic, there are all these TB police out there calling people like me. Pimping out their meds. Losing sleep at night over the ones who refuse. Sigh.
In Minnesota: I got a primary doctor, walked in, said, "I have latent TB. I think I want to take the meds." He said, "Oh. I'll get you a prescription after we do another skin test. And, well, since you're not quite 30, we don't have to do any routine blood tests. You'll be fine. Just take it." I had to educate him about the side effects. I speculated that I was the first patient he'd seen with TB exposure. He was scarily laid back about it. Then, I get meds, and nothing more from him or the clinic.
If those nurses in California had ever heard a yes from me they'd probably have thrown a party, in the bar. They'd have had a drink for/over me and reinforced their clout with each other. "See? We just have to believe in this work. It's so important. We can eradicate TB, one person at a time!" I imagine they'd have no fights with their spouses for a good, long week after that.
Instead, I'm in Minnesota. Not California, the land of immigration where "foreign" communicable diseases drift in like pollen pods. Minnesota doesn't have as much TB. So, the doctors and nurses who don't work with many refugee/immigrant populations don't see many TB cases. I know, we have refugees and immigrants here; we have a lot of them. But nothing compares to places like California and New York for immigration, and the nurses there have a whole different job cut out for them.
So, in Minnesota, I get major patient autonomy and I get to take my meds in peace. I get to schedule my own blood work at the end of my treatment when I please. Hell, I think they'd just forget about me if I never mentioned anything about ending. I really liked having ease, privacy and complete control over this decision.
I believe four different nurses in California read my skin test results. Three of the four were nurses whose sole job was to work with TB patients. They knew what they were doing and they did it like it was the most important thing in the world.
I imagine them going to happy hour together once in awhile and sitting back to talk about all the TB cases they'd had that week. "Ooh, that blood and septum case, goodness!" One would say, needing catharsis about the most advanced patient of the week. "It's a good thing we can drink 'cuz that guy has enough antibiotics to shut down his liver in a week if given alcohol! We have to call him every day and make sure he's complying with his meds!"
When I did my own research and got scared of the side effects of the prophylactic antibiotics those nurses tried very hard to convince me to start immediately, I stopped talking to that clinic. Then, another county nurse started to call me. About once every two months for a year I got a call from her. She was calling to see if I'd started my meds yet and if not, did I need more information? Was I sure?
The thing about taking the latent TB meds is that it's not required, but due to a worldwide public health campaign to deal with the current TB epidemic, there are all these TB police out there calling people like me. Pimping out their meds. Losing sleep at night over the ones who refuse. Sigh.
In Minnesota: I got a primary doctor, walked in, said, "I have latent TB. I think I want to take the meds." He said, "Oh. I'll get you a prescription after we do another skin test. And, well, since you're not quite 30, we don't have to do any routine blood tests. You'll be fine. Just take it." I had to educate him about the side effects. I speculated that I was the first patient he'd seen with TB exposure. He was scarily laid back about it. Then, I get meds, and nothing more from him or the clinic.
If those nurses in California had ever heard a yes from me they'd probably have thrown a party, in the bar. They'd have had a drink for/over me and reinforced their clout with each other. "See? We just have to believe in this work. It's so important. We can eradicate TB, one person at a time!" I imagine they'd have no fights with their spouses for a good, long week after that.
Instead, I'm in Minnesota. Not California, the land of immigration where "foreign" communicable diseases drift in like pollen pods. Minnesota doesn't have as much TB. So, the doctors and nurses who don't work with many refugee/immigrant populations don't see many TB cases. I know, we have refugees and immigrants here; we have a lot of them. But nothing compares to places like California and New York for immigration, and the nurses there have a whole different job cut out for them.
So, in Minnesota, I get major patient autonomy and I get to take my meds in peace. I get to schedule my own blood work at the end of my treatment when I please. Hell, I think they'd just forget about me if I never mentioned anything about ending. I really liked having ease, privacy and complete control over this decision.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
9 days
Since you all took the bait, I'll keep on the drinking theme. There's more to the conversation that usually occurs. I'll spell it all out.
someone nice and generous (snag): "Want something to drink? We have wine, beer, tequila?"
sweet me (sm): "No thanks."
snag: "You sure? Just a glass? We've got Oberon!"
sm: "Um, no thanks... I'll have water?"
snag: "You driving?"
sm: "No. Well, yes. And meds. I'm trying to avoid liver toxicity."
snag: "Oh! That's too bad!"
sm: "It's fine. I'll be done in X months/weeks/days."
snag: "And then you can drink!" (raises glass into air) "In time for summer!"
I haven't figured out what to say at this point that accurately communicates my feelings. I usually just say, "Well, I'll wait awhile and let my liver recover from the meds first." That's true. The feeling, though, is about the resistance to drinking just because I can. I can't figure it out. But what I want to say is:
sm: "Multiple family members are/were alcoholics/addicts. So, I'm not a big drinker to begin with. It's the last thing I'm thinking about. The first thing I'm thinking about is how glad I will be to not have to take a freaking antibiotic everyday for a condition that presents no symptoms. And I can also stop worrying about my mood swings being a result of the medications, and I can start believing that it's all in my head instead. Going back to multiple family members being alcoholics - maybe that's why I'm moody. Or maybe everyone's moody and some people just hide it better. What do you think?"
I'm way too nice and inhibited for my own good most of the time. Minnesota nice is doing a real number on me. I'm breaking through, I am, I am.
someone nice and generous (snag): "Want something to drink? We have wine, beer, tequila?"
sweet me (sm): "No thanks."
snag: "You sure? Just a glass? We've got Oberon!"
sm: "Um, no thanks... I'll have water?"
snag: "You driving?"
sm: "No. Well, yes. And meds. I'm trying to avoid liver toxicity."
snag: "Oh! That's too bad!"
sm: "It's fine. I'll be done in X months/weeks/days."
snag: "And then you can drink!" (raises glass into air) "In time for summer!"
I haven't figured out what to say at this point that accurately communicates my feelings. I usually just say, "Well, I'll wait awhile and let my liver recover from the meds first." That's true. The feeling, though, is about the resistance to drinking just because I can. I can't figure it out. But what I want to say is:
sm: "Multiple family members are/were alcoholics/addicts. So, I'm not a big drinker to begin with. It's the last thing I'm thinking about. The first thing I'm thinking about is how glad I will be to not have to take a freaking antibiotic everyday for a condition that presents no symptoms. And I can also stop worrying about my mood swings being a result of the medications, and I can start believing that it's all in my head instead. Going back to multiple family members being alcoholics - maybe that's why I'm moody. Or maybe everyone's moody and some people just hide it better. What do you think?"
I'm way too nice and inhibited for my own good most of the time. Minnesota nice is doing a real number on me. I'm breaking through, I am, I am.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
10 days left
At first glance, what I'm about to tell you has nothing to do with Minnesota or about being crazy. However, I've learned a few things over the last six months and have made some connections that I wasn't expecting.
Four years ago I had to have a TB test because I was working in the Oakland public school system and it was required. It was positive. Multiple subsequent tests were positive as well after a second false negative test. Chest results were negative: I had latent TB, not the active, quarantine kind.
I didn't have health insurance and I'd just returned from three years of one health problem after another (aka Peace Corps) so I was way put out by the whole diagnosis. I heard from multiple public health nurses that I was supposed to take 6-9 months of antibiotics to decrease my chances of developing active TB. The side effects sounded atrocious. I chose not to take the meds.
Six months ago, I decided to start the meds. I don't know why. I just knew that if I was going to do it, I should do it before I got too much older and my liver was less tolerant.
Every day for the last 6 months minus 10 days, I've taken an antibiotic.
Side effects were supposed to be: fatigue, depression, jaundice, weight gain, nausea, gastrointestinal distress, and, possibly - though less likely - delusions. I was counseled that if any of these side effects actually occurred that I was to plow through and continue to take the meds. I dreaded my first winter in Minnesota even more because of this news.
I'll count down the days until I'm done. Today is 10.
The biggest, strangest observation I've made is that people offer me alcohol. I decline. People sometimes persist. I decline more. Then I say, "I am taking a medication that prevents me from drinking." It feels like a weird violation of privacy, but it shuts them up. If I just say, "no, thank you," believe it or not, some people will not let it rest or they look disappointed that I will not be drinking their home brew or joining them in their drinking habits.
What if I was pregnant and didn't want to tell them? Even more, what if I was a recovering alcoholic? This experience has made me have a TON of compassion for recovering alcoholics. Oh God. What they have to go through is just awful. Denial after denial after denial.
Funny thing, too, is that this is a cultural thing. An American thing. Some people who aren't pushers have told me after awhile that they just thought I wasn't a drinker. They noticed I didn't drink but had the thoughtfulness to not be an ass about it, and just assumed I had *reasons.* I just can't say that I've ever really noticed that someone doesn't drink.
I had way more to say about that than I thought I did.
I'll save the rest for the last 9 days.
Four years ago I had to have a TB test because I was working in the Oakland public school system and it was required. It was positive. Multiple subsequent tests were positive as well after a second false negative test. Chest results were negative: I had latent TB, not the active, quarantine kind.
I didn't have health insurance and I'd just returned from three years of one health problem after another (aka Peace Corps) so I was way put out by the whole diagnosis. I heard from multiple public health nurses that I was supposed to take 6-9 months of antibiotics to decrease my chances of developing active TB. The side effects sounded atrocious. I chose not to take the meds.
Six months ago, I decided to start the meds. I don't know why. I just knew that if I was going to do it, I should do it before I got too much older and my liver was less tolerant.
Every day for the last 6 months minus 10 days, I've taken an antibiotic.
Side effects were supposed to be: fatigue, depression, jaundice, weight gain, nausea, gastrointestinal distress, and, possibly - though less likely - delusions. I was counseled that if any of these side effects actually occurred that I was to plow through and continue to take the meds. I dreaded my first winter in Minnesota even more because of this news.
I'll count down the days until I'm done. Today is 10.
The biggest, strangest observation I've made is that people offer me alcohol. I decline. People sometimes persist. I decline more. Then I say, "I am taking a medication that prevents me from drinking." It feels like a weird violation of privacy, but it shuts them up. If I just say, "no, thank you," believe it or not, some people will not let it rest or they look disappointed that I will not be drinking their home brew or joining them in their drinking habits.
What if I was pregnant and didn't want to tell them? Even more, what if I was a recovering alcoholic? This experience has made me have a TON of compassion for recovering alcoholics. Oh God. What they have to go through is just awful. Denial after denial after denial.
Funny thing, too, is that this is a cultural thing. An American thing. Some people who aren't pushers have told me after awhile that they just thought I wasn't a drinker. They noticed I didn't drink but had the thoughtfulness to not be an ass about it, and just assumed I had *reasons.* I just can't say that I've ever really noticed that someone doesn't drink.
I had way more to say about that than I thought I did.
I'll save the rest for the last 9 days.
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