Category: Health

Despite my continued social distancing and mask-wearing-in-public, I have somehow managed to come down with pneumonia. Again. Second time within the last twelve months…and it sucks. At least this time the symptoms were much less severe and there wasn't any pain, unlike the bout last spring that landed me in the hospital for four days.

Still, it's not fun. Thanks to a regimen of modern pharmaceuticals and a knowlegeable (and I must say, cute, gay) doctor at urgent care earlier this week, I do seem to be on the mend.  Now before you scold me for not getting the vaccine this year, I will accept full responsibility for that. With everything else that's been going on, it completely slipped under my radar and I going forward I will not make that mistake again.

I'm cleared to return to work Monday if symptoms continue to improve. Not looking forward to that, but thankfully next week is my two-days-in-the-office with the other three working from home.

Home tonight and just relaxing to some classic Carpenters.

I'm getting a colonoscopy and upper GI endoscopy today. This was prompted in part by anemia and some slightly-off norm blood tests last fall that had my doctor (who errs on the side of caution, bless her) sufficiently concerned to send me to a hematologist. The hematologist, in turn, referred me to a gastroenterologist, as even though I've had no indication of a GI bleed, this is the first thing they check when this sort of thing occurs.

It's been ten years since the last one, so I was due for a colonoscopy this year anyway. The endoscopy was something my GI at the time of the first colonoscopy wanted to do in response to my decade-long history of recurring GERD. I never followed through with it because the GERD was controlled by Prilosec and quite frankly, I hated her guts. She had the bedside manner of a pit viper.

I'm not worried about results from the colonoscopy; the endoscopy has me more concerned. I'm fulling expecting a hiatal hernia diagnosis at the least.

Excuse me now while I run to the toilet—again—in response to the final prep solution I had to drink this morning.

UPDATE: I worried unnecessarily, both about the procedure itself and the outcome. I was literally asleep two seconds after they inserted the bite guard and don't remember a thing (other than it was the most restful sleep I've had in ages) until I woke up in the recovery room. Esophagus and Colon were unremarkable. The doc removed 7 benign polyps from my stomach lining, all of which were bleeding to some degree. Source of the blood loss located and taken care of! As I told Ben afterward, "You're stuck with me. No cashing out my life insurance just yet!"

To be filed under: Getting Old Is Hell

About a year ago my right shoulder started hurting whenever I had to reach for something on a high shelf or turn off a ceiling fan. I ignored it because it wasn't debilitating, but as often happens when you reach a certain age, it didn't magically go away, and of late has become a pretty painful affair, causing me to wince whenever I reach for my wallet in my right hip pocket. I saw my doctor last month about it, she sent in an order for an x-ray and I finally got around to getting it done last Friday. The results were as more or less as expected. At least it isn't a torn rotator cuff.

"Your shoulder x-ray shows that there are no fractures or dislocations but you do have mild to moderate degenerative changes in the right shoulder. Degenerative changes are considered similar to arthritis type changes. If you would like to try physical therapy we can do that and if your symptoms persist then we can consider MRI."

What the fuck is physical therapy going to accomplish if this is a "degenerative change" other than to drain my wallet?

I saw a new Otolaryngologist last week for my bi-annual post cancer treatment checkup. I wasn't impressed with the guy who examined me two years ago, so I mentioned to my Primary Care Doc that I wanted to go to a new one.

Good news all around. After snaking that scope up my nose and down my throat (first time I got to see what she was seeing via a pair of attached display glasses), everything is good. Yeah, my larynx still looks like a war zone with one cord still immobile and the rest of the area remaining permanently swollen, but no sign of any recurring malignancy.

11 years and counting, baby!

…of my insurance before it runs out at the end of August.

I've been a bad boy. I haven't seen a dentist since we left Phoenix. I was reasonably confident that everything was okay, because I brush, floss, and rinse twice a day, but I really wanted a cleaning, so I made a last-minute appointment with the dentist my primary care doctor recommended. The hygienist complimented me. "Whatever you've been doing, keep doing it!"

There were a couple very minor issues; an ancient filling that should be replaced and a chipped incisor—but nothing that can't wait until I'm working again and fully reinsured.

From ARS Technica:

The use of silver in medicine is as old as Western medicine itself. Hippocrates is known to have used it to treat ulcers and wounds, the Romans almost certainly knew of its healing properties, and its use continued through the middle ages and up to the present day. In the antibiotic age, interest in silver may have waned a little. But with urgent need to fight antibiotic-resistant bacteria, there has been a resurgence in its use.

The reason is that silver can kill bacteria selectively, and more importantly, bacteria have been unable to develop resistance against it. Despite silver's long medical history, we do not know how it operates.

A paper published today in the journal Science Translational Medicine sheds some light on silver's success against bacteria. The most important finding is that silver—unlike most antibiotics—works in more than one way. This is perhaps why bacteria may find it difficult to build resistance to the chemical.

Here is silver's multi-pronged approach: first, silver sticks very strongly to sulfur, found in parts of proteins. These sulfur groups normally bond to each other, holding proteins together and keeping the protein folded up in its correct shape. But if silver interacts with sulfur, then the protein cannot fold correctly, and thus it cannot do its job. Next, silver interferes with how bacteria use iron. Iron is often held in place within proteins by binding to sulfur. Since silver also interacts with sulfur, it blocks the iron from doing so. Finally, silver causes bacteria to produce extremely toxic substances called reactive oxygen species. These go on to cause damage inside the cell, harming the DNA, proteins, and even the membrane that surround cells.

The net result of this silver onslaught is bacteria with severe damage to their basic biochemistry. In addition, the membranes and walls that surround the bacteria are leakier after the silver treatment. This allows conventional antibiotics inside the cells; in their weakened state, the cells are much more susceptible to them. Bacteria are broadly classified into two groups, called Gram-negative and Gram-positive. Gram-negatives have an extra cell membrane that protects the bacteria, which makes it much more difficult for some antibiotics to penetrate the cell (examples include gentamicin and vancomycin). It seems that silver negates this advantage and allows even weaker drugs to do their jobs.

James Collins of Boston University, who led the research, showed that with added silver, less antibiotic drug is needed to kill the bugs. A great result in itself, but it gets better. Silver also reverses antibiotic resistance of E. Coli bacteria, making them, once more, susceptible to tetracycline.

These experiments not only worked in a Petri dish. When silver was added to standard antibiotics such as gentamicin and vancomycin, Collins could treat E. Coli infections in the bladder and abdomens of mice. Normally, these drugs have little effect on E. coli infections because they are designed to attack Gram-positive bacteria.

Finally, Collins showed that the mice themselves remain unharmed by silver. If he is able to repeat this work in humans, he may actually have a "silver bullet" for antibiotic resistance.

With everything else that's happened in my life since the start of 2013, I'm not surprised that a rather important anniversary slipped by under the radar.

I am now a ten-year cancer survivor.

April 1st came and went this year with none of the fanfare my 5-year anniversary garnered. I guess it was a combination of everything else that's been going on coupled with a clean exam last November and the doctor's pronouncement, "At this point, for all intents you're cured and can relax. See me in two years," that put this on the back burner in my mind.

That's not to say I hadn't thought about about it entirely. Almost immediately after getting inked for my 5-year anniversary (something that did not turn out the way I'd hoped; something you'll remember if you've been reading the various incarnations of my ramblings for that long) I started wondering what I'd do for the big one-oh.

About a year ago it hit me.

Ten, ten, TEN:

Because I like dual meanings.

And who have I chosen to poke me, to guarantee that this time will not be a repeat of the last? Why, Erik of course!

Ben and I are planning a road trip in August, and a visit to Pea Ridge is definitely on the agenda.

No, not that kind of bottoming, you pervs.

Shortly after I received my cancer diagnosis in 2003 and preparing to undergo a PET scan, I—like millions of other Americans—was also diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Needless to say, this news coming on the heels of the cancer diagnosis—while not totally unexpected because of a family history of the disease—was nonetheless devastating. I remember leaving the PET center and sitting in the car with my father (because they couldn't perform the scan until my glucose levels were brought down) and began to openly weep. I thought, "What more can possibly go wrong?"

I made an appointment to see my GP the next day and since he was not there, I was stuck seeing his entirely disagreeable nurse practitioner assistant. She ordered blood tests and the next day the results were in. Definitely diabetic. The NP phoned in a prescription for insulin and syringes, and booked an appointment for the following day so I could be trained in their use.

Upon returning the following day, I got to see the regular GP and he was aghast. "You don't need insulin. We can bring these numbers down with oral medication."

And so began my relationship with Metformin.

My numbers had been quite good with the oral medication until about four years ago when they slowly started creeping up. The dose was raised and they were brought back under control. For the last couple years, however, they've been totally out of control, despite now being on two different medications, and they weren't showing any improvement.

That's why, late last year, my current GP suggested we try an insulin regimen in addition to the oral medications. He started me out with a long-lasting, once-a-day shot that brought my numbers down about 70 points. Not good enough, because I was still only rarely hitting below 200.

About a month ago, we decided to change up to a 2-shot a day regimen of a 70/30 mix. My numbers were finally going below 200, but varying wildly during the day.

Yesterday I was searching for an online image of the insulin pen I was using (to incorporate in a medication reminder app—yes, I'm a total geek) and I made the unsettling discovery that what I'd been using for the last month wasn't the 70/30 mix as my doctor had prescribed, but just the regular, short-acting insulin. After speaking with him last night, it was determined that indeed, I had been on the wrong drug for the last month—with the fault falling somewhere between him and the pharmacy. He phoned in a new scrip for the proper drug and told me to continue using what I had until I could pick it up.

Last night right before dinner I did my usual dosing with the short-acting insulin I'd been taking. By the time we got home and sat down to watch television, I started feeling a bit…off. I was lightheaded and everything was starting to look like the brightness and contrast had been turned up to full. Fearing that my glucose was high from dinner, I checked and couldn't believe my eyes. My glucose was 86. I have never had a reading that low, not even when I was well-maintained through my oral meds. Fearing that either the test strip or the draw had been bad, I rechecked and it was 83. I checked again and it was 80.

I was crashing.

I had no idea why because I'd been using this particular dose for over a week with no ill effects, but being warned of this possibility by my doctor (but always feeling that I was reasonably safe because my levels had been consistently so high), I pulled out my emergency 12 oz. bottle of Dr. Pepper and downed it. About ten minutes later I checked again and my glucose was up to 90. Another ten minutes and it was 114. I checked before going to bed, and was up to (for me) a very respectable 141 and I was feeling much better.

I picked up the proper insulin this morning. My doctor has knocked me down to a low dose to begin with again, and I'll slowly working my way up as needed as I'm back to being over 200 tonight…

…of having a teacher as a romantic partner is that you get to experience each and every illness that the little germ-infected monsters bring with them into the classroom.

Yep, I'm down with the creeping crud again.

But at least the timing was advantageous. By sheer coincidence, I had an appointment scheduled with my new Primary Care Physician tomorrow morning. It was originally intended to just be a meet-and-greet sort of thing to establish medical care here in Denver, but since I'm going to be there anyway maybe he'll have some magic bullet to knock this crap out of me.

Yeah, right.

My doctor in Phoenix has been great about authorizing refills for my various meds as they run out, but it's been nine months since my last blood workup, and I really do need get back into a regular care routine—not to mention getting a referral to a local Otolaryngologist.  I'm way overdue for that exam.

I've been wearing this brand of daily-wear lens since the early 90s. They're no longer being made and nothing else (including the recommended substitutes that I tried a several weeks ago) fit as well. In fact, the manufacturer has phased out all their vial lenses for the more profitable disposable variety. I mean seriously, WTF?

And I'm not alone. A quick search on the interwebs reveal a lot of folks who are plenty pissed off that these lenses have been axed. Hopefully I'll be able to stretch a few more months out of my last pair of CSIs before I'm faced with having to give up on contacts altogether and go back to glasses full time. (Yeah, the "new" lenses I tried are that bad.) Since I'll once again be insured after the first of the year I'm hoping that I'll be able to find a competent eye doctor who is willing to work with me to find a suitable substitute. (PSA: Avoid Target Optical.)

Ben and I have both been down with the creeping crud the past few days, and I'm ready for it to be over. What a waste of a perfectly good weekend.

I guess it's one of those unintended consequences of being partnered to a teacher; he's exposed to little walking petri dishes day in and day out, much like I was when I worked at the hospital.  (I've never been as sick as often as I was when I worked there, despite the copious amount of hand washing and hand sanitizing I engaged in.) I just wish he wasn't quite so inclined to bring the illness du jour home with him.

(I kid, I know it can't be helped.)

Ben missed two days of work last week, and I was out on Friday. I think I got off relatively easy this time, as I'm feeling pretty good now that the headache from hell has disappeared and my sinuses are once again functioning relatively normally.  Ben, however, hasn't been as lucky. He got hit with the full force of the crud and still isn't feeling anywhere near back to normal.  Send him some good thoughts, okay?

I got the results from my PET scan today. I'm all clear and Not. Going. Anywhere.

So beyotches, it looks like I'll be around for many, many more years to poke sticks into the eyes and ears of political and religious hypocrites wherever they may be hiding on the internets!

Furthermore, my ENT said today that I was a very unusual case. I don't know if I really believe him or not, but I am supposedly one of only 7 other people in the entire country whose disease was diagnosed and treated at the same stage and same time as I was and who are still alive and healthy today.

Mom always said I was special…