Appointment tomorrow

Tomorrow morning I see my orthopedic surgeon. Mum and I will be asking him to schedule surgery since we got the go ahead from my infectious disease specialist last week. We have some questions about less invasive surgical options, but I think our minds are set. We know which option we want. Any questions are simply there to solidify our decision.

I didn't sleep well last night. I have generally been going to bed earlier and waking up at 10 am every day, working on getting it back to 8 am for when school starts next week, but today, despite setting my alarm for 9 and my desire to get up, I slept until noon. I was just to tired to get out of bed. Even opening my eyes felt like a chore. When I did get up I had a headache - it waxed and wane on and off all day. I haven't had any night sweats in about a week, which is lovely, but today my nightshirt was a bit wet round the base of my neck and I felt way to hot. I also had horrible dreams, some of which were about surgery.

I did go to Book Outlet today. I have been meaning to do this since late last week. Going there seems to have become somewhat of  a "yay, I survived finals and passed all my courses" kind of tradition.
Mum drove me and I took the bus home (lucky I looked at the signs in the terminal - the platforms have changed again! Otherwise I would have ended up on the number 8 bus instead of the 2). Mum noted that I sounded tired today. I couldn't agree more. We talked a bit about the bone infection on the way to the store. I mentioned how calm and relaxed I feel; how wonderful these two weeks off have been and how I am feeling refreshed and looking forward to starting second semester on Monday. I then mentioned how unfazed I feel about tomorrow's appointment; how the entire bone infection isn't bothering me right now - taking each day at a time, it's just life, how it is. She asked me to explain what I meant. I hadn't thought much of my feeling until she asked me to explain them. Forced to verbalize the reasoning behind my feelings, it hit me - I said "We have been through this so many times before, being ill, waiting for appointments, scans, surgery, etc, it has become normal. There isn't any point to worrying about something that has become part of our lives and is now normal". This would seem like a really depressing statement (that being ill and all that entails is just part of every day life) but I don't look at it that way. I just see myself navigating through life, like everybody else has to, with slightly different obstacles than my peers. Our goals are still the same in the end. The paths we take are just different.

On a different note, I got some lovely books today that I look forward to reading. I am going to try two read twenty pages before I go to sleep each night. I miss reading for pleasure. Whatever I don't get through will be waiting on my nightstand for me when I have surgery in the fall.

The books I got today are:

"Viking Age Iceland" by Jesse Byock
"Bulfinch's Mythology" by Thomas Bulfinch (I might be a nursing student now, but the history/classics nerd within me is still alive and reading!)
"The Street Philosopher" by Matthew Plampin
and a book on yoga for beginners to help with relaxation and stress management. To be completely honest, through, I have kind of always wanted to try yoga, even before I became ill.

I also got some lovely new sticky notes with birds and flowers on them for the new semester - brighten up all my notes and binders. Oh, and on the way home I stopped at Fine & Grind Cafe. I got a chocolate chip oatmeal cookie. It was scrumptious.

Worldview - slowing down

Another lovely day has come to an end - the sun has set, the bird song outside has quieted, and I have donned my woolen socks to stave off the evening chill, reminding me that although the days are warmer it is still barely spring here (two weeks ago we still had snow!).

When I had the bone infection the last time, I was forced to slow down my life. I have always been one to enjoy the little things in life (I like to think it is all the little things together that make life so beautiful. We must therefore enjoy both everything all together and individually to fully appreciate our own little worlds, floating and bumping, merging for short periods, with those of others), but being ill shrunk my world to the point that the each little thing felt precious and important. I enjoyed that feeling immensely. I learned to take pleasure out of everything, no mature how minute. When I got better, I vowed to stay like that. In many ways I did - walking at dusk to hear the birds, see nature come to life while many others g inside for the night, listening to the rain, feeling my toes in wet dewy grass while walking in the park in the morning, savoring a cup of tea, But I have also been drawn back into the hubbub of daily life - rushing to catch a bus to school, working hard as a nursing student, dreaming of my future, feeling impatient and that I am should racing towards it full steam ahead. I try to balance indulging in all the little aspects of life around me and my life as an increasingly independent adult.

I hadn't realized how much busier my life had become until the relapse. In between all the scans and doctors appointments my life, I feel, has drastically slowed down again. Yes, I am still a nursing student and the next semester will being on Monday, but I am more calm and relaxed than at the start of the year. I think illness does that to you - makes you focus on the here and now rather than the future. Having surgery for a fall, which requires taking two semester (eight months) off adds to this. my big focus is making it to surgery - in regards to the rest of my life it is a short term goal, but it fills my life completely. Nothing is being planned beyond the end of the next semester/end August. The combination of being ill (which makes me reflect on life and what we are all doing in this crazy chaotic world), and waiting for something I dread (surgery and the inevitable accompanying pain) are what cause me to slow down. Being ill sucks, but slowing down feels fantastic... luxurious. I walked in the park for an over an hour today (with my wide brimmed hat of course. Darn it Doxycycline!). I made tea when I came home, toasted bread with fresh black forest ham. I sat on a bench and felt the cool breeze on my lower legs and bare feet. I forgot this feeling. Life is both so much simpler and more complex when you are ill.

Inevitably I will tell myself to hold onto these feelings and attitude towards life when I get better. As experience has taught me, however, I will eventually merge back into "normal life". It makes me wonder if the there are certain things, even feelings and attitudes, you can only have when you are ill. If so, I am not saying that I enjoy being ill, because I don't - it is horrible, and suck, and filled with pain and worry and uncertainty - but there are also good parts. We find ways to make things ok for ourselves, and that means getting some good experiences out of being ill as well. Part of that means slowing down and learning to create joy out of everything.

A warming day

Today was a good day. A very good day - I haven't felt so calm and as worry free in months, likely since I saw my infectious disease specialist last November when I became worried that the bone infection had returned.

My leg did hurt a little bit today, I did not sleep well last night, and I was still freezing cold, but I enjoyed the day. I have been waking up and going to bed earlier to get a good routine before school starts again next week. Mum and I went out for a few hours to buy shoes (I got one style, two colours - red and black. I fell in love with the style but couldn't shoes between the colours. Red is cheerful and bright, happy, a party, but black is elegant and goes with almost everything, so I got one of each)  and more binders (first semester went through all the ones I have!). And this evening I went on a lovely walk round the neighborhood and in the park - the trees are blossoming, warm air, golden grass under the setting sun. I feel peaceful today, light and airy, relaxed, capable, if that makes sense. It sucks to have the bone infection come back, but for the first time in a while I feel like I can handle it. Just take one day at a time, enjoy the warming sun, focus on my nursing education, and I will get through everything.

Eight feelings

I went through a variety of feelings when I was first diagnosed with chronic osteomyelitis - feelings the continued as I went through treatment and even after I was given the all clear by my doctors in 2013.  This feelings have returned with the relapse. Sometimes I think of them as water bursting through a dam, mixing all together, overflowing me with thoughts and concerns, confusing. Being ill has taught me how possible it is to feel numerous, and even conflicting things, simultaneously.

Here are eight of the most common feeling I have:

Anger - angry that I am ill, again. That I not only had to go undiagnosed for five years, but then had to go through treatment, had hope to get better, was granted that wish and moved on with my life, only for the whole damn thing to come back once more. I am angry at others who try to help but do not know how (this is not their fault - friends and family care for me and want to help, but I am sick of needing supports. I want to be better. The anger is not so much directed at them, but my situation itself. I am frustrated!). Angry with myself - I know I am not coping as well as I could be, but I am tired. I am angry at myself for being tired - physically and emotionally. Angry at my body - it has betrayed me.

Sadness - more often than anger, I am filled with sadness. It is deep, it makes me ache. I think about everything that I have lost because of this: a social life, physical activities, keeping up with my friends and classmates, dating, time itself. I miss everything I could have had instead, normal things. And sad that I have to go through it all again.

Hope - that beautiful unfailing things, that sole inhabitant of Pandora's jar, always fleeting in and out of sight. Despite the relapse and my fears that my doctors will not be able to make me better, I still have hope that it will all be okay. I talked about this earlier this month - my hope that each new set of scans will show that the infection is gone, even though I know it won't be, stubborn old thing.

Fear - fear that the infection won't go away, ever. Fear of uncertainty. Fear that the surgeries won't work or may cause a new infection themselves. Fear of pain and discomfort. Fear because there is something inside of me that should not be there.

Guilt - towards my family, for having to ask them for help and support - physically, emotionally, financially.

Trust - I have trust in my doctors that they can make this right. When I speak to other people, they reassure me that I have some of the best doctors that I could possible have. ER doctors, my family doctor, second opinion orthopedic surgeon, etc. all tell me this, and I believe them. Trust and fear go hand in hand.

Envy - or jealousy, if you will, of all of my friends and classmates who are healthy and have never gone through a medical diagnosis or crisis before. I don't want them to be ill instead of me, but I wish it was not me at the same time. I have been through more medically in the last years than some people go through in their entire lives. Why does it have to be me once more? Why can't someone else have a turn so that I can lead a normal life? Everything was going so perfectly, and now look! It feels like it all falls apart again.

Indifference - I hate this feeling, but it is fact becoming me friend. It costs to much time and energy to deal with all these emotions, doctors appointments, concerns for the future, etc. What ever happens will happen, regardless of my input or feelings.

I saw my family doctor today to get a prescription for Tamiflu. I am not sure if I need it or not next month when I start my clinical placement in a hospital because flu season is over. I figured I would get it anyways, just in case, while still in St. Catharines. It is easier to get it now through my family doctor when I have a week off than to realise I need it next week once classes have resumed and I am in a new city in which I will have to hunt down a walk in clinical and likely sit there for several hours.

Of topic now.

I saw my family doctor for the prescription. He asked me how things are going. I said "Mostly good, but the bone infection came back." Doctor replies "I know (he gets automatic updates from my other doctors). You medical chart is sad." We laughed at that, but it hurt a little. It is true. My medical chart, a big fat binder full, tells a long and winding story. The ending will hopefully change, but the current chapter feels kind of grim.

Seven things not to say to the chronically ill

If the last nine years have taught me anything, it is that people respond to the health issues of others in a variety of different ways. A prolonged illness or sudden medical crisis often brings out the best in people, from cooking meals and helping out with groceries, to giving hugs and providing support, or lending an ear to listen to someone work through their emotions or difficulties making a serious choice regarding treatment, to something as simple as taking someone out for coffee to distract them or sending a card in the mail or a friendly email. Sometimes, however, peoples responses are unwanted, unhelpful, or even outright mean. Anyone who has been ill for a long period of time can, if asked, likely list of some of the most hurtful or discouraging things that family, friends, and even complete strangers have told them. I find that the majority of people really actually do want to help or provide words of comfort and support. Often times, however, their efforts are shaped by fears about their own health and mortality, feelings of not knowing what to say, or simply not grasping the situation/implications of the medical diagnosis. I firmly believe that people approach each other and medical issues with good intentions, but I, like many others with chronic illnesses, have experienced a host of comments that were meant to help, encourage, support, etc., but just came out as hurtful and discouraging.

Like many others who have posted online about this topic, I have had people tell me similar things. Here are seven that stick out to me.

1. This first one seems like it is rare but is more common than you would think. In my opinion, i is probably the worst thing you could ever say to someone who is chronically ill... or facing any type of medical issue for that matter - At least it's not cancer

I don't even know where to begin to explain how painful a comment like this is. Not only does it negate my own diagnosis and everything I am going through, but it also makes me feel guilty for being ill to begin with. This statement likely stems from the age adage "it could always be worse". It is meant to draw a person's attention away from the negative aspects of their diagnosis and towards the positive, brighter side of life, but what it tells the sick person is "I hear what you are saying but it is irrelevant because you don't have (fill in blank with some worse medical problem). The thing is, regardless of whether or not other people have more severe medical problems than I do, I am still afraid, in pain, and facing more surgery, months of antibiotics and probably physical therapy, and I have to put my life on hold, again, this time for eight months. People having it worse than me does not mean my situation does not suck or suck any less than it I think it does. I try really hard to look at my bone infection is perspective to everything else in the world, but sometimes, especially after the relapse, it is kind of hard to do. Despite trying to be brave and strong through everything, I need comfort and validation for my feelings too.

2. "Oh, you have to be on crutches for five month to recover from surgery? I once sprained my ankle and had to use crutches for a week! I can totally relate to how much it sucks."

Really? REALLY? *deep breath* When I first broke my leg I had to use crutches for ten months. I was on them for so long that I pinched nerves in my hands and couldn't feel my thumbs anymore. My palms were covered in calluses. I got blisters under my armpits - blisters that wouldn't heal because every time I used my crutches to go to the bathroom they would break open the healing skin. I get to look forward to this again when I have surgery in the fall. A week does not compare to what awaits me. People say things like this because people feel better when they can relate what other people are going through to their own experiences. Sometimes, though, it is better to simply listen than start talking about yourself.

3. "You look so good today! How can you be sick and look so good?" 

First, are you telling me that I usually don't look good? Ouch!
Second, I have a bone infection... in my tibia. Unless the infection has worked itself up to my head and burrowed deep into my brain overnight, which my doctors have assured me will not happen, it has not impacted my ability to pick out nice clothing or put on that bright red lipstick that makes me look awake and energetic.

This is meant as a complement, but people who are ill do not always hear it that way. It might be more helpful to say "Nice lipstick!" "Is that a new scarf? It's really pretty" or something else along those line.

Furthermore, sometimes the bad things happening within us are not visible on the outside. At the moment, nobody would know something is wrong with my if they did not see my MRI, CT scan, bone scan, or x rays.

4. "You are ill because god knows you are strong enough to deal with it. He never gives us more than we can handle."

I never know if this is a complement or not. I am always left wondering "Thanks, I guess... do you mean that I should take being ill as a sign that I am more courageous, strong, etc. than people who are not ill? Or that people are healthy because they are weak? Or that I should be happy with god for making me ill?"

Also, I might appear strong, but that is not because I am strong, but because I have know choice to put my game face on in order to get through this. Anyone else in a similar situation would do the same. It has nothing do with being strong and everything to do with surviving.

Aside from all that, my relationship with god, if I have one, is my own business. I find it much more meaningful when people tell me they are praying for me. Doing so allows them to feel like that are doing something for me, shows me that they care about me, and doesn't put me on the spot to respond in a way that doesn't offend them religiously.

5. This one is similar to number four: "God does everything for a reason!"

Does he now? I don't even know how to respond to this one. I usually just nod and smile. What reason could god possibly have for making me, and countless other people, suffer. This statement makes the least sense when people face a potentially fatal disease - if a person lives, it is so that they learn something from being ill, and if they die, their purpose was to inspire and teach others. This statement denies a person's need to question why they are ill, explore their actual purpose in life, and come to terms with their feelings. It doesn't matter that Bobby Joe is angry about being ill because god made him ill for a reason.

6. Usually enthusiastically spoken: "I wish is could take naps too!" Or take time off school/work, do less work around the house.

I nape because I need to nap, not because I want to. I can honestly say that I would much rather be riding my bicycle or reading a good book then sleeping time away. Taking a nap might seem like a fun, but only until you rely on sleeping ten plus hours a night and then needing several hours more sleep after work/school before having energy to do anything else. I used to love naps, just like you! Not so much anymore.

7. "My sister's aunt's boyfriend had that. He did (blank) and now he is cured!"

This most often included alternative medicine like reiki, herbal supplements (last fall a woman gave me a small bag of unidentified seeds to put in my tea to heal me... I politely accepted but did not use them), or hyperbaric oxygen therapy. I assure you, these things won't help me. I am getting counseling to deal with the relapse and doing breathing exercises and guided imagery to relieve stress. I am also looking into doing yoga. These things are all complementary to the treatment my ID specialist and orthopedic surgery recommend (antibiotics, debridement, and bone graft).
The worst is when someone tells me they once new someone who had an acute bone infection that went away after a month of oral antibiotics. Trust me, I have been there, done that - fifteen months worth - didn't work. An acute bone infection is much easier to treat than chronic osteomyelitis. I am in this for the long haul, and hearing about someone who easily beat a bone infection is no encouraging, especially not since it has come back.

These are seven things that people have said to me that were well intended but ultimately hurtful and not helpful.If you have a friend/relative/coworker/etc., who is facing a medical crisis, the best thing you can do is ask them what they need or how yo can help. Be there if they need someone to talk to. Maybe take them out to coffee, send a card or some flowers. Most of the time, just knowing that someone is thinking of you is the best thing a person can receive - not un-asked for advice or motivational pep talks.



 

Forgot number six

Birds delight me. Their songs fill me with joy and make me feel like I am floating. Something so simple makes everything o.k. and bearable. When I am recovering from my fourth surgery and waiting for number five, I want to learn more about bird. Being with nature, for me, means being surrounded by life. I recently wrote a paper on the restorative properties of nature - that is how I feel when I hear birds singing - alive and full of life. It is memorizing.

I know that I will spend a lot of time indoors between the two surgeries, and by the time I  fully recover from number five it will be well in to January/February and too cold to venture out much. I still want to see the birds though! I want to be filled with life. I plan to buy the new Lego kit that makes models of different birds: the humming bird, blue jay, and robin. I fell in love with the set as soon as I saw it at the end of last year. I will save it until after the fourth surgery as a treat to make when I recover a bit.

Therefore, the sixth big thing I have on my list is to learn about birds (and make them out Lego!).

Five things I`m planning

All of my previous surgeries required relatively short recover period in comparison with the ones I will likely have this fall. the first surgery was at the start of October 2006. I was off of crutches and walking unassisted by Christmas that year, putting the recovery period at just over two and a half months. Surgery two was at the start of September 2008. I was walking on my own in about two months. The last surgery, number three, was mid April 2011 - I was up and walking without crutches within a month.

When I have surgery number four, I will be unable to walk on my leg until the fifth surgery. Given previous experiences, I reckon it will be about another month after the fifth surgery before I am walking unaided again. I am therefore looking at approximately four months of sitting on my butt doing nothing...

... except I don't want to be doing nothing for four months. So I am trying to think of things to do - as of now I have a list of five big things I want to do:

1) Binge watch the fifth season of the Walking Dead on Netflix when it comes out this fall.

2) Learn to knit (I regret not doing this when I had eight months off between completing my Bachelors degree and the start of the nursing program I am in).

3) Complete all of the embroidery squares on the afghan blanket I bought a few years ago - I somehow constantly pick out embroidery patterns and colours but never get to actually working on it. I hope this project will keep me busy and be meaningful once I have recovered - hopefully a symbol of finally getting over this infection (It will be ten years before the bone graft process is complete).

4) Make a giant dent in my ever growing (despite my attempts to purge) collection of books. I would like to read the Pickwick Papers and Nicholas Nickleby by Dickens ad re-read The Lord of the Rings.

5) Review the Latin I learned in University. You know what people say - If you don't use it, you lose it! Latin is also great for nursing - helps with medication names and body parts, so I feel I am doing at least a little something that is useful.

I want to make my time off meaningful. It is devastating to have to pause my nursing education, and to be left behind as my peers move forward, especially those in my clinical group. I hope these activities will be comforting and relaxing, and help me get through something I really don't want to do, even though I know it is necessary and unavoidable. In my mind I see pain and worry ahead, but I also see myself sitting on a porch in the early fall, basking in the warm air and sun, leg propped up with a Penny Press puzzle book while I drink tea and watch the leaves slowly turn to yellow an gold.

Alright... this is likely not going to happen most day. I will spend the first week or so after surgery propped in bed watching tv or sleeping. But I need an ideal to keep me sane and from deciding to not go with the surgeries. The ultimate goal is to get rid of the osteomyelitis. To do that I need these surgeries, and imagining I can sit in the sun with a book after between surgeries four and five will help me go through with it.

Four months for intermission

I had the appointment with my infectious disease specialist this morning.
I am so fortunate to have my mum with me for most of my appointments - I freeze when I see my doctors. Half their words fly over my head while the remainder swirl round my brain, leaving me muddled and confused. Being a nursing student and learning how hospitals and therapeutic nurse-client relationships function has not helped this. My mum is there to ask the questions I forget, or the ones I purposefully don't bring up because I don't want to know the answers.

We talked about several things:
Bone pain and discomfort (not to bad at the moment although it was pretty bad last week) - might cause some issues when my 12 hour clinical shifts start next month. Will have to see how it goes.

Night sweats - ID specialist said that they can occur with chronic infection, but doctors do not have an explanation for why. This doesn't help me. I am waking up drenched in sweat several times a week - really affecting the quality of my sleep, causing a lot of extra laundry, and an outright nuisance.

CT scan (couldn't see is because computer keeps glitching; will get to see it next week when I see my orthopedic surgeon). ID specialist said that the scan shows a deformity in the bone, about the same location on my tibia as the spot on the MRI from December. It has shrunk a bit since the end of last year. "Yay!" I think - great if it is a tad smaller, but boo for it still being there.

Antibiotics - will stay on Doxycycline until the end of May and then stop taking it. I need to call my ID specialist if my leg flares up or there is an increase in pain. Stopping the antibiotic is exciting news because Doxycycline increases photo sensitivity. I have already experienced this several times. I will be out in the sun for about thirty minutes and feel perfectly fine. A couple hours later my skin will become red and hot and burn. Several hours later it is as if nothing ever happened. While on it I need to stay out of the sun, which is not so fun after surviving a Canadian winter indoors... I need to be outside! I will be put back on antibiotics if anything happens, and before, during, and after the proposed surgeries.

Surgery - I have the go ahead from my ID specialist to schedule surgery when I see my surgeon next week Friday. She stated that the surgery is elective because it is not an emergency, but it does need to be done at some point. This gives me the opportunity to schedule it into my life. My mum an I are going to ask for late August (after the 14th when final exams end) or early September. This would hopefully put the second surgery (the bone graft) in November. My mum had a lot of questions about surgery regarding how invasive it is, other options, etc. We found out the surgeries my orthopedic surgeon proposed would make it possible to make my legs the same length (one is almost two centimeters longer than the other. This is not a very large difference and does not causes many problems, but I do notice it when I walk, it causes some discomfort when I stand for long periods of time and it has made my hips and shoulders a bit uneven). The chance of the bone graft taking is very high because I am young and otherwise healthy. There may be some alternatives to using a metal rod to hold the bone graft and the edges of my tibia together. We are a bit apprehensive about putting more metal in the leg given our previous experience with hardware. We could also potentially go with a less invasive surgery (same as last time - simply scraping away the affected bone). While this sounds great - only one surgery, smaller incision, much shorter recovery time - I am leaning toward the bone graft. We tried the simpler surgery before and it obviously did not work. In February the surgeon said that doing it again would likely not fix things for good. The bone graft option just seems to offer the best chance for me to beat this thing for ever, which is what I really really really want.

Always being cold - ID specialist had me get blood work today to make sure my thyroid is working properly. Mum and I are a bit baffled that this has never been done before. I have been mentioning how I am constantly cold since I was referred to Hamilton in 2011. This is not "put on an extra sweater" to get warm cold. This is "I have 4 sweaters and 2 blankets on and I am still shivering" kind of cold. Freezing to the point that I feel my eyelids are cold when I blink; feel that the tip of my nose is cold from the inside out, without touching it, shivering under a mountain of blankets in bed, toes hurting from the cold, etc. etc. Hopefully we can figure out why. The cold, along with bone pain and night sweats, makes for one grumpy miserable person.

There were several things that really stuck out about today's appointment:
1) My ID specialist said that she does not understand why I was misdiagnosed/sent away by my previous doctors for so long. Given my symptoms it should have been obvious to the doctors that I had osteomyelitis. It is important for me to hear this from her. The physical pain and emotional distress my family and I went through when I had surgeries, saw me become ill, and were continuously sent away from appointments being told we were worrying to much was avoidable which resulted in the infection getting as bad as it did in 2011 was completely unacceptable. What could have been a routing case turned into something that has affected my life for over nine years, and will continue to do so as I have more surgeries this fall.

2) The ID specialist said "We are all affected by this, your doctors and your family, but it is the worst for you." I have been struggling to cope recently. I feel guilty toward my family for needing their support and causing them stress and anxiety. I feel bad for requiring them to take time out of their lives to care for me everything I have surgery. It helps me to know that my doctors and family recognize how hard this is for me - physically and emotionally. I am so fortunate to have the family and doctors that I do have. On the drive home, mum and I talked about my feelings of guilt; how I was afraid to say that I really want the surgery this fall because I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I explained how I feel we are all in this together so I try to consider how everyone feels, is affected, and experiences things. My dear mum looked at me and said "It is not nice to hear sometimes, but this is actually all about you, and that is o.k." I could have cried when she said that - she understands how hard this relapse is for me. I want to do something to shoe her how much I appreciate her and how she is forever standing by me.

3) Everytime my ID specialist pulls up scans, she explains that my tibia is much thicker than it should be because of all the trauma and surgeries. Today was not different - she commented on how my tibia was deformed, I immeditely replied "I know, I think you tell us every time we are here." I was not trying to be rude. I think my ID specialis ti s fantastice, but we have dones this so many times now... I am tired. There is nothing new to say. We know what the problem is - been round the block before. Which leads me to my next point

4) As we were walking toward the care in the basement parking lot, mum and I did not say much. We are usually excited about good news or a bit upset or distracted while we digest not so great news when we leave appointments. Today was just about acceptance... we knew that this was what it was coming to (surgery) - I think we are tired of dealing with this infection and sad it had returned. I just want to get the surgery done with so I can get on with my life. I won't say it is indifference per se, but I am ready to get it over with. I am fed up with having this thing take up so much of my time and energy. Something has to come to a head, and that means surgery. So we just accept it.

5) Last but not least, I was not upset that the CT scan showed something. Even the ID specialist said not to be surprise - that we knew something would come up on it. This is probably part of the last point (acceptance). I just hear the news and went with it.

On May 1st I will see my orthopedic surgeon to discuss (and see!) the CT scan and my surgical options (although I know which I will choose). We will also ask the surgeon to schedule a date for the first surgery. This scare the hell out of me since I have never had a multi-step plan like this before. It also fully set in today that between the surgeries I will not be able to walk on my leg at all... bummer. I will then have about four months to wait. Four months intermission to get on with my life before we hit pause for eight months. At least without the antibiotics from the start of June onwards (if nothing goes wrong) I can enjoy some sun and enjoy the summer!

Three nights of sweating

In the last week, I have woken up drenched in sweat three times. The night sweats began last year - sometime around the end of November or start of December. At first I would only have them occasionally, once every week or so. Over the course of the semester they gradually became more frequent. Sometimes I now get them several nights in a row, other times it is an isolated incident. In the last week, including last night, it happened three times.

Waking up soaking wet is disorienting - you do not expect to wake up that way. It is not normal. You are lying in a cozy, dry bed under a roof. Experience tells you that you should be comfy, warm, and dry. When it happens, I wake up confused, cold, and panicked, a sense of where am and that something is wrong or dangerous. A few times I have started frantically looking for the ocean, thinking that I must have been drowning. It takes a few minutes to realize what is going on as I feel my back, skin almost slimy with sweat and pajamas soaked through. Then comes the scramble in the dark, half asleep, half panicked, to search for a towel and dry clothing. Usually I wake up before the bedsheets are  too wet, so I don't always have change those right away. It helps to be able to wait until morning to do that. Never the less, but the time I have stripped off the wet clothing and found dry pajamas, I am fully awake. It takes me a long time to fall back asleep. While I generally like sleeping (as most nursing students do!), I have started becoming afraid of the night sweats.

I have tried several things to prevent night sweats - keeping my bedroom door and window open, using less and thinner blankets, sleeping in only a thin night shirt or my underwear, chucking all extra pillows out of the bed, but nothing seems to help.

The combination of always being cold/having chills and night sweats while I sleep is really starting to bother me. I will be freeing cold when I go to bed, to the point of shivering, but will avoid using extra blankets so I don't overheat, yet I still wake up soaking wet. It is confusing - my body temperature is regularly at about 36.5 (lucky if I occasionally get to 36.8 or 36.9) - I am always cold but sweat so much at night...

Night sweats are one of the possible signs/symptoms of chronic osteomyelitis.
I will be bringing it up with my infectious disease specialist tomorrow morning when I go in for a check up and to get CT scan results.

Two days of waiting - Fear vs. Hope

Between yesterday's CT scan and getting results on Thursday morning, there are two days - two days of waiting. I know that there is an infection in my leg. My doctors know it too - it is clear on the MRI I had in December which shows fluid in my tibia, the bone scan from the end of January, which shows increased bone activity, and the x-ray from my ER trip in February. Add the pain in my shin and the flare up I had in February... plus the tiny sores from last summer and the odd rash last fall, and we know something is wrong. I know this, and I accept it...

... but I always hope (and simultaneously fear), nonetheless, that the next set of scans won't show anything at all. That my doctors will announce that I am magically cured! I hope because I don't want to be ill. No pain, no surgeries, no worry, fear, and uncertainty. I could be normal and healthy like my peers. I could feel invincible! I could plan for the future. Hoping to be cured is normal even though I know it will not happen on its own - it is part of ever person's desire to be health but it is not a realistic expectation. The hope is still there, always, inside me. Because this hope is always there, scan results are more stressful than they could be, and the let down when scans do show disease is always painful. I know I will not be magically cured, but I still hope, which makes scan results that show infection hard, even though I know that is the expected outcome beforehand.

Sometime I am afraid that my next scans will show no evidence of an infection. That doesn't really make sense, does it? Who would want scans to show disease? I don't want this. I want my health back and to focus entirely on my nursing education. But in order to get better, the problem first has to be fixed, and the requires the scans to show something wrong. I was misdiagnosed for five years. I had multiple scans - White blood cell scans, bone scans, etc. - and they always came back inconclusive. The doctors I had at the time interpreted inconclusive as negative and therefore ignored my physical symptoms instead of investigating further. We later learned that inconclusive definitely does not mean that nothing is wrong. So for five years my mum and I new something bad was going on inside me and we continuously brought it up with my doctors (bone pain, swelling, inflammation, wounds draining fluid, etc. etc.) - doctors who continuously ignored us. I know my current doctors agree that the infection is back and that we have scans/x rays that support that, but I am still irrationally afraid that my doctors will turn around and say "nothing is wrong with you, go home". I feel that my diagnosis is validated if the next scans show something. My past experiences and misdiagnosis are behind my fear that the scans won't show anything or that they will be inconclusive and therefore ignored. That is why I want the scans to show something - more proof of what we already know is going on in my leg.

This tug of war between fear and hope is always there when I wait for scan results. I want opposite things at the same time - for scan results to show that I am both healthy and have a bone infection. I need to work on not feeling like this, to sit down and tell myself "realistically we know the infection is there. Just expect the scan to show that and I will not be disappointed. Anything better is a bonus".

On a side note, I am thoroughly enjoying my break between semesters one an two.
Today I embroidered for the entire afternoon and evening.
I have not had time to do this since Christmas!

This cross stitch project came from a magazine (Cross Stitch Crazy) I bought a year or two ago. I love these "free" projects because they are quick to complete and make great gifts. Of course they are not really free... you pay for it in the price of the magazine. I make sure to only buy them when I really like the included project. They usually come with everything you need - aida fabric, pattern, thread, needle, and envelope, or in this case, ribbon. I couldn't find the magazine that had the pattern in it (purges cross stitch magazines a while back) so I worked off the picture below. I made a few small errors, but over all I think it looks lovely!

One CT Scan

Late this afternoon I will have the CT scan that my second surgical opinion recommended. I am indifferent to it. I have never felt so indifferent towards a scan before. I want to care. I know that I should care, but I don't. Is that bad? I do not know.

This morning, while making a cup of tea, my mum walked into the living room to wake up the cockatiels and let them fly in the living room. She popped her head around the doorway to confirm what time the CT scan will be at. For some reason we both kept thinking quarter to five, when it actually is at four fifteen. I walked into the living room - we both stood there to admire the birds for a minute - the two females flew onto my shoulders - one on each. My mum looked at me and rhetorically said "We have been to a lot of appointments, haven't we? Even on your own. You are chronically ill..." I said "yes, I have had a lot of appointments, but I don't like to think about it." Mum replied, "you are in denial about it, aren't you?" I said, "yes, a little bit. I don't want to talk about it." We both stood there for a minute, quietly,  birds on my shoulders.

This is new about my infection this time around - I am in denial. I want to hide. I want to pretend that everything is o.k. In the past I was ready to fight, to be strong, to have a positive attitude throughout this. Don't get me wrong, I still want to get better and intend to do so, but I am more reserved about it now - more quiet. This blog helps a lot for expressing my feelings, but I don't talk about being ill very often with family/friends anymore. Talking about it hurts. This time I feel like I am resigned to just go through the motions of being ill. There is no point in making a big deal out of scans - we (mum and I) know the infection is there - or appointments - we know what to expect from my doctors. It is just a matter of sitting through them and waiting for surgery.

There was a cork board that hung across from the table in the kitchen for many years. A great aunt sent my mum a card a long time - it had a cartoon ostrich with it's head stuck in a plant pot filled with sand. My mum pinned the card to the cork board, and I remember seeing it almost every day at dinner time and smiling. The card was in Dutch - roughly translated it said "Sending my greetings! I am gone for a little while but I will be back!" That is how I feel right now - I am still here, but part of me is gone for a little bit. I am not sure if I am really in denial - I am aware of my health problems - but I am ignoring them as much as I can. When I am healthy I will pull my head out of the sand. 

Remember

Memory is a funny thing. When people experience intense emotions, they think that they will remember that exact feeling or the moments associated with them for the rest of their lives. We may, for example, experience a sense of euphoria when we fall in love or meet that special someone; feel a deep sadness, anger, or despair when we are confronted with unfavorable medical news; have a sense of tremendous and inconsolable grief when a close relative or dear friend passes away. Over time, however, our memories of those emotions changes - the feelings fade, or we shape our memories of events to what we wish they had been/the most ideal form. A failed relationship may have us reconsidering if we actually really felt love for a person at all; time and acceptance masks the shock that accompanies a medical diagnosis - a new normal makes it hard to remember life prior to illness; the grieving process makes the loss of a friend or family member bearable and we slowly move on with our lives, giving the deceased a small role in our lives rather than making them the focal point.

With my recent relapse, I have been thrown back into a world of uncertainty and worry, which I talked about in my previous post (My nest). A friend recently asked me if going through the process of seeing doctors when my symptoms reappeared, going for scans and sitting on edge waiting for results, and now waiting for surgery, along with my physical symptoms, felt similar to how all these things felt the previous time. She wanted to know if it was easier to cope this time around since I have already done it all before. I desperately wanted to answer that yes, it is much easier the second time around because I had learned from my experience but the honest answer, however, is that it is not. I had forgotten, to an extent, how I felt the last time I went through this. Time had dulled my experience, made the details hazy, and altered my memory of my feelings and emotions. After all this time, I forgot how much my leg could hurt. Looking back, I remember feeling, more often than not, in control of my situation. Rereading several of my blog posts, however, I know that I felt helpless and unhappy (Blah Blah Blah... I am fed up). I recall being over the moon with joy when my infectious disease specialist declared that the bone infection was gone. Rereading journal notes, however, I notice how afraid I was for months on end that the infection would return - how it was only a year later that I became optimistic that the infection was truly gone. But even then, my thoughts would race back to infection at the first hint of pain in my leg. In many ways, this relapse feels new and different to me - it is like rediscovering something you vaguely remembers, like skimming through a textbook and reading the heading of a chapter, and then being expected to know everything that was written underneath it.

The thing that strikes me the most is how little patience I have anymore. The relapse has left me feeling antsy and unsure of myself, always in a rush, always wanting answers and a firm plan set in stone. I think that I have forgotten how I coped the last time around. Coupled with the uncertainty that relapse brings, I feel like I am treading in unknown waters. In the future, I want to remember how this feels, even if it feels horrible. I want to have a record so that I don't forget and time does not alter my memories. I am, therefore, going to attempt to write down (and post!) one thing that is new to me or sticks out to me about this illness for the next thirty days.

My nest

Chronic osteomyelitis has been a big part of my life over the last nine years, from to compound tib/fib fracture in early 2006, being dismissed by doctors over the years as worrying too much about pain and swelling, finally getting a diagnosis in summer 2011, surgery and the dreaded PICC line in 2012, receiving the all clear at the start of 2013, and the eventual relapse at the start of this year. Over the years, I have had numerous surgeries, tones of x rays and various scans, countless courses of antibiotics, flareups, and symptoms like bone pain,  night sweats, and endless chills/always feeling cold. These are the hard facts of osteomyelitis; these things can be looked up in any pathology book or easily found in a search engine like Google.

There is, however, a different side to living with a chronic illness - one that does not appear in the massive textbooks used in the nursing program I am. It is the side that people do not like to talk about - it is the worry, uncertainty, and fear that I, and many other people who are chronically ill, live with. These feeling do not go away even though I have been dealing with this infection for almost a decade. No matter how many scans I go for and days I have to wait in until follow-up appointments, I still worry about results. Despite taking antibiotics, I am afraid of the pain in my bones, afraid of hurting, afraid of pain, afraid of not being able to stop it, and when the pain does come, I am afraid what it means - is it healing pain or pain from the infection and bone dying? And no matter how much people reassure me that I will be o.k and get better, I am uncertain about the future - after all, the infection relapsed. I relapsed. I hate writing those words. Hate hate hate. Hate is a strong word. I do not like to use it. it is not dislike or indifference. It is to despise, loath, abhor. But I think that it is appropriate here. I hate the worry, fear, and uncertainty more than the infection itself. I could cope better if I new that this infection could go away forever with treatment. Instead, the best I can hope for is remission (there is now way of knowing if the infection is really gone or not. I can only hope, after treatment, that it is gone). That is what I did last time. Now the infection is back. I am tired. My brain is tired from dealing with this. Some days, I am so tired that I don't feel like I care about the infection anymore... just let it do what it wants too... this makes me very sad.

People do not like to talk about these things - medical problems, hospitals, taking pills, surgery, remission and relapse. Illness and doctors scare people; it reminds them of their own mortality. It is easier for them to ignore these topics. As a result, I have lost many friends. They did not understand my health problems; some thought I would get better if my attitude was positive enough; others would ask me how I was doing but clearly did not want to hear my answer; people were my friends when I was first diagnosed and had surgery, but I guess the novelty of my health problem wore off for them after a while.

I deal with the physical aspect of my illness - the doctors, scans, surgeries, etc.
I must live with the fear, uncertainty, and worry.
I have to cope with the emotions surrounding my illness and questions of "why has this happened again?"
and I am lonely.
As a result, I am tired and discouraged. Sometimes, I even feel like none of it matters anymore - that the infection will be here forever and that I should just give up and let the nasty in me win.

And thus we get to the main purpose of this post - being kind to your self and creating a loving and comfortable environment that will help support you through the hard times. This space is made up of many things, including the people you surround yourself with, the activities you do, like meditation and breathing exercises to help relieve stress, the food the gives you energy, the food and activities that comfort you when you receive bad news, that help you celebrate positive results, that get you through appointments, and the physical space you live in or call home. I am going to focus on the last of these right now.

My home is my haven - it is there through both the good and the bad moments. When it is stormy outside and I have a bad day, I can curl up in a blanket, cocooning myself from everything outside, lying in my cozy bed in the dim light listening to the rain thinking that it won't only wash away the grim outside but also my troubled feelings - it is cathartic. Early morning,  a weak sun shining through the leaves, slowly gaining strength, warms my skin as I sit by a window or outside on the porch, reading a book, sipping tea, just sitting quietly listening to the birds. It is invigorating, and healing - it make me feel strong and alive.

My home is my domain - in 2012, when I had a home care nurse visit me daily, my house was my space - I was in control, unlike when I am at the hospital. When I have my next surgery, I will likely have a home nurse for wound care again. When she visits, she will come into me world, where I create order and a welcoming cozy environment.

My home is a retreat from the medical world - no doctors, surgeons, operating rooms, MRI machines - inside my home everything is o.k. - stash of tea by the kettle, fruit on the table, flowers throughout the rooms - nothing to remind me that I am ill. Most of the time, when I return from a doctors appointment, the first thing I do when I get home it to make a cup of tea. It is one of the only things I know with certainty - not matter what happens, I can come home and have that cup of tea!

My bedroom - my bedroom is purely my space, and it is magically, with fairy lights, fluffy pillows, and tones of books. It is my nest! When I have surgery, it is the one space I will spend the majority of my time in, and I have therefore made it special to me. There is nothing like your own bed to sleep in =).

First thing I see when I enter my room. I got the fairy lights from value village for 2.99$
The blankets and pillows are greatly appreciated because of the coldness/chills I always have thanks to the bone infection. They where one of the first symptoms I had that confirmed to me that the infection was probably back. 
Lots of books on the shelves to keep me busy when I have surgery.

 The letter box came from Value Village as well (2.99$). It was originally brown (really ugly), so I painted it white. I made the heart garland myself using  instructions from a magazine (Romantic Homes). The picture frame contains embroidery I completed last fall. Embroidery is one thing that keeps my busy when I do not feel well/have surgery.

The cork board contains more embroidered items I made. A lot of stuffed animals - it's a comfort thing.

Origami butterfly mobile I made last year - it is across form my bedroom window. When the window is open, it dances and turns in the breeze!

Lots of little touches in my room, like the earrings hanging from the lamp shade. I like to keep flowers in the room - living things are inspiring.

I love the look of work wooden furniture - something comforting about it - if things can survive time, I can survive my bone infection too.

OSCES are over!

I had my  Objective Structured Clinical Examination, commonly known as OSCEs, this afternoon. I found the entire experience absolutely nerve wracking, but looking back on it , after the fact, I can see how it can be fun, and even relaxing, in future semesters now that I know what to expect. I still have three final exams left (Health and Healing tomorrow, Anatomy and Physiology on Thursday, and Professional Development on Friday), so I still don't have any spare time, but the end is in sight! I know that I have passed all of my courses before going into any exams, so that is reassuring - I can't fail anything even if a bumble through the finals. Nonetheless, I am still studying hard. The nerd in me hasn't burned out, even after four years of university. Perhaps this is a good thing. I know I would be upset if I had a 60% nurse... so I should strive to learn the most and get the highest marks I can. I look forward to having some time off between first and second semester (especially to post here). Unfortunately I will still be kept busy - CT scan on the 20th, appointment with ID specialist on the 23rd, appointment with OS on May 1st, packing stuff to move back to Hamilton for the summer, help mum clean/de-clutter basement before my grandfather visits in June. At least I will be able to sleep in a bit, and sit in the shade with a good, non-nursing related book as the weather improves! Back to studying now... almost done the female reproductive system, and then just have to finish the inflammation unit tomorrow before the exam on Thursday.

Being o.k. with my choice

As mentioned yesterday, I got my second opinion from another orthopedic surgeon on March 31 (last week Tuesday). After so many years, you would think that a person gets used to doctor's appointments, but I still find them as nerve-wracking as ever. My mum and I arrived at the hospital at 11 am, but we were not seen until about 1:30pm. I was hoping for a quick appointment - in and out to make it in time for my afternoon classes, but that did not happen. The surgeon had two medical students doing their rotations with him. He asked if it was o.k. if they ask me some questions.... I said "Not really. I don't want to be rude but I haven't always had the best experiences with med students." The doctor gave his spiel about how they need to learn, so I ultimately relented. I do understand how it is important for med students to practice and learn, especially now that I am a nursing student and rely on patients to allow me to practice my own skills on them, but I feel that I should be able to say know after so many years. Every time I go to a new doctor  or surgeon and there is a med student, I have to first go through my entire medical history with the med student - this is often brutally slow and painful as the med students are inexperienced and ask questions about everything! I know, I know, they are learning! But I am not the average patient who broke an ankle and will heal in six weeks. I have been dealing with this for over nine years! I am tired. I am frustrated. I am worn out. I am worn down from always having to use coping mechanisms to get through this. Above all else, I am worried for my future, nervous because we are kind of in unknown waters, afraid of the pain that surgery will bring, that the bone graft might not be accepted, that the infections might come back again despite the proposed surgeries... Having to go through the entire story with the med student, hear the med student relay it to the doctor, and then tell the whole thing again myself for clarification so the doctor gets everything the med students missed adds insult to injury. Isn't it enough that this is the sixth surgeon I have seen?

And that is my rant about that. Back to the appointment itself.

The surgeon pulled up my bone scan, x rays, and WBC scan. He noted the increased bone activity shown in the bone scan and commented on the fact that the WBC scan doesn't show signs of infection. He asked the med student how it is possible for there to be osteomyelitis (they called it OM - has a nice ring to it, and much less of a mouth full than chronic osteomyelitis) but a negative WBC. Mum and I exchanged glances, fearing he would tell us nothing is wrong and send us away, despite knowing that my ID specialist and OS think there is still infection in the leg in addition to the MRI in December, the bone scan from early February, and the x-rays taken in the E.R. mid February. Fortunately, this did not happen. One of the med students suggested that there could be not infection. The doctor pressed him for more answer. The student than suggested that immuno-supression (I don't have that), medications (wasn't on any at the time of the scans - not since October 2012) could cause negative scan results. Still, the doctor pressed on. Eventually the student offered lack of blood flow to the affected limb. Bingo! The surgeon explained that when their is no blood flow in the affected area, that there is now blood, and therefore no white blood cells and radioactive tracer stuck on to them that can be picked up by a WBC scan, hence the negative result. The surgeon then asked how this happens. The answer is that the body has walled off a piece of bacteria/infection to protect itself.As a result, bone dies. This is what happened to me in 2011, when I had an abscess on my shin and a piece of dead bone, or a sequestrum, come out. I then pointed out that I have had five or six WBC scans since this all started and none of them has ever come back positive for infection - at the most, some of them have been inconclusive. The surgeon said that was important to consider as well.

The surgeon than asked me how I have been feeling and my thoughts on everything. I said it feels like it did when I was diagnosed in 2011. He told the the med students that it is important to take into account the patient's symptoms and feelings, especially with chronic issues like this. He than gave me several options:

1) Continue on with life and treat the infection when it flairs up.
2) Stay on antibiotics for the rest of my life. He said he advises this to older patients, but it wouldn't be good for me because I am so young.
3) minor surgery to debride dead bone use some antibiotics beads.
4) The surgery my orthopedic surgeon recommended - cut out a chunk of bone and fill the space with antibiotic beads and bone cements, close everything up, and then come back in about 3 months to put in a bone graft from my opposite hip. He said that this is a good plan and my best bet to make sure that we get rid of this bastard once and for all.

The surgeon said that it would be hard to determine what bone to take out of my leg since their is not sign of active infection according to the WBC scan. He recommends a CT scan in order to determine exactly where any dead bone is.

Yesterday I got a letter from the hospital with my CT scan appointment - it will be on April 20 at 4:15om. On April 23 I have an appointment with my ID specialist. I am going to try to schedule a follow up with my regular surgeon the week after that, which is right before second semester start. I hope that we can schedule a date for surgery during that appointment.

There were several good things that came out of this appointment:
1) Confirmation with my surgeons proposed plan to treat the infection
2) More peace of mind - second opinions in and of themselves are always good, and the doctors really take the time to listen to me. I think your relationships with them change over time. This is not an easy case with a broken leg that will heal in a few months, and the doctor and patient will never see each other again. This is a long term thing. My surgeon knows about my fears and insecurities... everything I have been through and how devastating it is for me that this has come back again. I think he told some of this to the second opinion surgeon, who took the time to listen to me.
3) Answers to why the WBC scans have always been negative or inconclusive (dead bone can't show infection)
4) I was given a choice who I wanted to do the surgeries. I picked my regular OS. He did a great job on the surgery last time (not his fault this thing came back). I have built a good patient-doctor relationship with him. He is by far the best surgeon I have had! Being given this choice give me some control over things and recognizes my place in this situation and my right to advocate for myself.
5) My regular OS popped in for a moment to say hello. He did not have time to stay for the consult, but it made me even more confident in my choice to stick with him for the surgery. He also told me ha had talked to my infection disease specialist the day before - that instils a lot of confidence, to know that my doctors keep tabs on me and consult each other about me frequently. And it is overall a very nice thing of him to do =)

After the second opinion, I am happy with my decision to go with the surgeries. We still have to hash out some of the details, like using a rod inside my tibia or an external fixator to hold everything together, but the choice of what to do it clear to me.

I will be glad when I have two weeks off starting at the end of next week. Last weekend I slept like crazy but never did feel rested. The antibiotics are giving me some stomach upset. My leg is hurting again and itches like crazy. I look forward to the day when this dreaded infection is gone.

I have a lot of fear and apprehension for the surgeries, and try not to entertain the thought that they might not work. After all, the infection came back again even though my doctors were confident that the last surgery and course of IV antibiotics would get rid of it. I keep reminding myself that my ID specialist told me that you can't look at cures when it comes to bone infections, but remissions or relapses instead since they test can never really prove if the infection is gone or only lying dormant, biding it's time until it reappears (usually when most inconvenient for the patient may I add!. Last time I hoped for a cure and I thought I had one. This made the relapse of the infection so much more devastating than if I had considered it as a real possibility.This time around I will remain cautiously optimistic. I will try to stay grounded in reality. I will try to find peace with this undesired situation and make the best if it. I always hate it when my brother says "it is was it is," but that is so true in my life right now. It just is a boring, stubborn, nasty thing that I hope I can banish.

Update from yesterday: My sweet guinea pig died today, just before I got home from school. She was still warm when I nudged her to see if she was just asleep. My other guinea pig, Luna, is miserable. I thoroughly scrubbed her cage in case the she could still smell Lumen and that smell would upset her or make her distraught searching for her buddy. But the first thing she did when I put her in the clean cage was still to search frantically. I noticed when Lumen got sick and stopped eating, Luna stopped eating as well, and would quietly lay beside Lumen, nudging her gently with her head. Now she won't come out of her hide house, even if I entice her with treats. I miss Lumen and am sad for my other piggie. My mum and brother both suggested I get a new guinea pig to keep Luna company, since guinea pigs are social animals, but with surgery hopefully coming up in the fall I don't think it would be a good idea. =(

Haven't forgotten to post...

I will post about the appointment I had last week to get a second surgical opinion on my chronic bone infection later this week. Posting on here has been something I really wanted to do this past week, but preparing for final exams and OSCES has kept me away from my computer (well... not entirely - I have been typing out tones of final assignments and presentations, but I haven't been able to do anything particularly fun!). I have sat down several days in a row, right before bed, hoping to write out my thoughts, but ended up nearly falling asleep sitting up right, laptop of my knees, head on the keyboard, several times. Fortunately, all my final projects are know done an submitted, a major poster project has been presented, one final exam is already completed, and I feel prepared for osces on Tuesday. I only have one class (Lab - high fidelity simulation day!) tomorrow morning, and then have the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday off before attending the final clinical of the semester on Friday and writing another final Saturday morning. Sunday/Monday will be off, followed by osces and then three days of finals. After Friday April 17 at 11 am I will be free and able to hibernate for sixteen whole days!

On a sad and unrelated note, one of my guinea pigs, Lumen, has become ill. She appears to have bumblefoot on her two front paws, is shedding much more than usual, has lost a fair bit of weight in only a few days, and has gunky eyes. I am doing my best to nurse her back to health, but am not sure if she will make it. She is almost four years old. While some books I read state that guinea pigs can live til 7 or 8, the average seems to be 5, with some sources saying about 4 years old. I hope this is not the end for my sweet piggy- I got her a few weeks after I was finally diagnosed with chronic osteoymelits, so she has been with me through a lot =) It is also horrible to see any living thing in pain or suffering. You know your guinea pig is unwell when she doesn't even want a carrot to nibble on! I will hope for the best outcome. It would be horrible for my other piggy, Luna, to be on her own - guinea pigs are social animals, and are best kept in pairs. They easily become depressed if they live on their own.