'My Left Foot'

Since the title of this post is My Left Foot, a Daniel Day Lewis flick from 1989, I feel it fitting to give the film a brief plug. The movie & I have a history. As an assignment for a Sociology course I took in college we had to choose a film about disability & write a discussion essay to follow. My mother recommended My Left Foot so that was my pick. Based on a true story, Daniel Day Lewis plays Christy Brown, a man born with Cerebral Palsy. His left foot is his only controllable limb. Need I say more. Its a great movie...with the inspiring premise of overcoming adversities. Plus it stars Daniel Day Lewis. He's the kind of actor that appears in a movie & people pay attention. He doesn't mess around. C'mon, Last of the Mohicans?! There Will Be Blood ("I drink your milkshake!"). Now that I think of it, I should update my "queue."

So, how is it that I digress? In the opening paragraph? Here we go...I'm going to talk about my health issue. I don't particularly want to at the moment but writing is proving to be somewhat of a therapy, so I'll click on "Publish Post"  & when all is said & done: We'll call it a session. I can't feel my left foot. Nor the toes on my right foot. The cats give the tootisies a good tickle every now & again...and I get nothin'. Not even a trace of one fur follicle.

Yes, I will find a way to insert the felines into EVERY entry. Don't dare me.

Numb extremities isn't where it all begins (but hopefully it's where it ends!). Six months ago I found myself sleeping on a cheap-o air mattress on my kitchen floor when I had company. I kept waking up with a stiff neck. Understandable. Excusable. Then, after the company left, when I was back in my own delightful & heavenly bed...the real trouble began. I couldn't rollover without being in pain. Do you remember when you were a child & you would play that game at birthday parties where you would relay a raw egg on top of a teaspoon? That's what I felt like sliding out of bed in the morning. Stiff as a board & fragile. Evaluating every physical movement before it was made. I couldn't lift my arms above my shoulders. I had to run my fingers under scalding water in order to semi-straighten them. Taking a shower & getting dressed are two of the most painstaking processes I've ever experienced. I started half-jokingly/half-seriously making comments about having Rheumatoid Arthritis. I started to get scared.

It took me awhile to visit a doctor, but once I did, my Rheumatoid Arthritis theory was quickly negated.  I was given anti-inflammatory pills to take & sent on my merry way while the doc put a red question mark on my file & used it as a coaster. The joint pain is currently subdued due to the afore mentioned pills. I can put on a shirt without having to prop my elbows up on the dresser & precariously weave my head through the neck hole. I can open water bottles by myself. Turn the page however, & the next chapter begins by my feet going numb one at a time. It happened quite quickly. As I went to bed one evening my right toes were tingly...pins&needles like. During the night the nerve elves must of paid a visit because when I woke up my foot was numb entirely . Repeat process a week later with left foot. Walking around with two senseless feet isn't so bad. You just kind of feel like a tharumping (the beauty of writing a blog is getting to make words up) elephant with every step you take. After almost getting used to the fact that my feet were inexplicably dumb-struck...I felt the first lightening bolt of nerve pain shoot through a foot. Unless you've experienced it yourself; there isn't a way to accurately describe nerve pain. On a recent medical questionnaire (those horrid forms you have to fill out in doctor's waiting rooms....how is circling Y or N next to "Drymouth" really going to help you treat me?)...I was asked to circle a number 1 through 10 to define my level of pain. Screw it I thought, & circled the number 10. It was time to take a stand (figuratively) & stop being conservative. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, I'm not a 10. But in my world, its at least a 9 since I don't have much to compare it to. When the doctor asked me what the pain felt like: Imagine placing the balls of your feet in between vice grips and cranking down on the handle at random while someone simultaneously rips your toes off one by one.

Currently, my debatable diagnosis is Drug Induced Lupus (DIL). For the record: The frustration of NOT knowing exactly what's wrong with you, is worse than having an actual diagnosis. I think. Trust me, if my walls were padded I'd be banging my head against them right now. To offer a bit of an explanation to the confused: Drug Induced Lupus is not as severe and incapacitating as the real kind of Lupus, Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE), a chronic autoimmune disorder. However, the symptoms of DIL often mimic those of the real Lupus. Now, to address this "Drug Induced" bit - no, I don't have track marks on the inside of my arms - & no I don't have a crack dealer. As of late, there is a list of approximately 40 medications on the market that cause DIL as a reaction. On that list is Minocycline, which is an antibiotic prescribed for, of all things: A pretty face. Mild acne. Dermatologist recommended. Foolishly, it took me ten years to type "Minocycline" into Google...and when I finally did...the results are jaw dropping & disturbing. The drug has wreaked horrendous havoc on people's lives. The good news: Once the offending agent (Minocycline) is removed, the symptoms of DIL should slowly disappear.

To be continued...

And by "To be continued..." I mean I'll be posting within a day or two what was originally the second half of this entry. It's already written. It dawned on me that the loquacious length of my ramblings/life's problems might actually deter people from reading them. God forbid. So consider yourself spared for the time being.