Tag: health

  • Fingers Crossed: Part Two

    Fingers Crossed: Part Two

    For those that have read my first “Fingers Crossed” blog entry, I thank you. I wrote it a very long time ago and it describes the beginnings of my diagnosis journey with Rheumatoid Arthritis and my experience with Fibromyalgia.

    When I wrote it, I was a bit younger. My conditions were not as well managed as they could be and I was still struggling with my symptoms flaring often. A few things have changed since then and I figured that it was about time that I wrote a sequel to update anyone that may be interested in finding out what has happened up until now.

    Well, let’s pick up where I left off with the story. It was 2021 and my medications were working the way they should but I still hadn’t fully accepted my limitations. Perhaps I never will in some ways. I was a new father, I was only just learning about my diagnosis. There were many unknown variables that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to ever deal with. Several things have changed since then and I think it’s about time that I opened up about how the last few years have gone. There have been many developments.

    After my diagnosis of RA, a painful auto-immune condition where my body over-reacts to simple things like wear and tear, infection, and injury, I received my diagnosis of Fibromyalgia. Doctor’s were unable to directly associate my symptoms to any one specific condition. So though my symptoms of RA were well managed according to medical professionals, I was still experiencing the sensations of widespread and unpredictable pain.

    My fingers and toes continued to feel like they were breaking, my spine and ribs were always sore, and I would get shooting pains throughout my entire skeleton which would cause me to jolt upright in agony. I wasn’t sleeping very well because of it and I feared that there may be more to the story. I wasn’t wrong.

    My last blog left off with me working for my father in a machine shop. The pandemic was in full-force but my conditions had begun to settle down a bit. I wasn’t quite convinced of my safety but I had begun to learn more and more about my conditions and realized that it had left me vulnerable. I did end up contracting Covid after all of my avoidance and it left me bed-ridden for 8 days straight. When I say bed-ridden, I mean I slept for an entire week with only a few waking hours during the entire stent. I experienced vivid hallucinations, nightmares, and pretty much had the worst of it. It reminded me of a time when I was younger and I must have experienced my first flu. My temperature was high, I was sweating through my sheets and soaking my mattress, my wife had fears of finding me deceased whenever she came into the bedroom to check on me. It was quite the experience. After physically recovering, I experienced wild mood swings and it took quite a long time to get back to “normal.”

    My father was considering winding down his work, and I was quite difficult to manage, so I decided to seek alternative employment doing something a bit more tailored for my interests. Though I was very thankful for the opportunity and experience that he provided me with, I felt like I needed to get out on my own and stop leaning so heavily on my family. It was a lot of pressure to be putting my well-being on those I love and I knew that they would want me to be independent and self-supporting. They have always been encouraging and for that I am eternally grateful.

    A family member of mine ended up moving and I offered to help them pack up and clean up their apartment. During the process, I realized that some of my previous experience in warehousing had come in handy. I packaged items carefully and got them ready to ship, I took apart and neatly packaged furniture, took items to donation, and shipped many others to their new address. It reminded me of when I helped a friend’s family curate a cluttered estate and it got me thinking.

    “I wonder if there are any companies that exist that help those living with clutter beyond their control?”

    I began to explore options and ended up finding a company in Edmonton that helped people living with extreme clutter and hoarding behaviors. They also provided seniors with concierge services in various ways. I myself being a “stereotypical male” with extensive experience doing labour, warehousing, and sales found a way to fit into a caregiver role with some of the most vulnerable people from our population. It would also help my autoimmune disease situation because I knew that I couldn’t expose myself to large crowds so working one-on-one with people that were already isolating made for a perfect environment for me to be more safe.

    I worked with them for quite a while, but unfortunately it wasn’t full-time work. The hours fluctuated and there were no benefits provided. The company decided to focus more heavily on their respite and concierge services rather than hoarding and decluttering which was my favorite part. I began seeking a different place of employment that would perhaps be a better fit.

    Now, in the past as a sales executive I had really enjoyed my role. I had spent nearly ten years with the same company but because of all of my conditions and the changing environment I was finding myself “bouncing around” which didn’t make me feel very comfortable financially. Eventually, I started taking a look at the things that really mattered to me and I narrowed down my focus. I began to look for my “dream job.”

    Being a person that always enjoyed the outdoors, loved organization and working hard, but also enjoyed being of service, my friend suggested to me that I perhaps explore the idea of working at a local cemetery. It would allow me to be outside for most of my days, it would be essentially “stacking and sorting” people, plus I may even get to play with some fun equipment. I certainly enjoyed visiting cemeteries, I mean I was a ghost-hunter after all. So I applied and was pleasantly surprised when they gave me a shot at being a groundskeeper at a very busy location.

    Early on in my employment, I began to feel better. My conditions began to settle and I felt right at home. The team was amazing, we had lots of fun while still providing an amazing service for families during their time of need. I got to be out in nature and learn all kinds of new skills. It was one of the happiest times in recent memory for me. I felt like I had landed right where I had wanted to be and wished that I had found the role sooner. If I had found that opportunity when I was much younger I don’t think I would have ever left. Eventually though, symptoms began to creep in which would begin to change all of that.
    I began to flare again, sometimes for a day and other times for up to five consecutively. I became depressed because I hated missing work and I hated not being able to be relied upon. Previously, I was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. I would arrive early to make coffee for everyone and open up, I’d greet them when the team arrived, I would even offer to stay late and work extra, but now I couldn’t be that person.

    I began to experience panic attacks every morning before work. I’d wake up in a state of fear and no amount of meditation work that I had learned from my addiction recovery would work. It wasn’t a typical anxiety attack, it was something much less within my control.

    My pain symptoms began to creep back in and it was like I was going through my early diagnosis all over again. I was scared. Was my RA making a come-back? Were my medications no longer effective? I feared having to swap medications all over again because I knew exactly how extreme it was and how it affected my family having to witness me go through it. I was suicidal when I went through my first diagnosis and feared that my mental state may relapse back into that dark time in my life.

    What was happening to me?

    I was referred to a pain psychotherapy firm based out of Calgary by an amazing social worker at Family and Community Services. It was a zoom call every couple of weeks with a professional in the field, I trusted him right from the start and our bond grew more and more as we worked together; we still meet virtually to this very day. We began to explore ways to understand my symptoms and identify the sources of my “phantom pains.” I eventually learned about something called neuroplasticity and through guided meditations, constructive criticisms, and insight he challenged me to explore my symptoms not through a lens of fear but rather through a lens of curiosity. I had always enjoyed working on my mental health and spiritual growth so I got right to work and began to learn more and more about how to identify exactly what was wrong with me. My pain began to subside greatly, but the panic attacks continued each and every day.

    Eventually, I injured myself. I had grown accustomed to being in pain so I had ignored many of my symptoms to “push” through so all that I could and continue to be productive. During one of my more drastic flares, I went to see my doctor to get a check up and get another doctor’s note. I knew there had to be more to the story so he gave me a full physical examination, complete with full-body x-rays and blood work. It turned out I had broken my leg sometime in the past couple of weeks though I had no recollection of how or when, and it had set itself and began to heal. Had it not been for the x-ray tech calling my doctor to ask why I hadn’t arrived with a cast or crutches, I wouldn’t have even known. The widespread pain that I lived with each day had completely hidden the obvious. To me, it was just noise within the static of sensations that I dealt with on a daily basis and I had been walking around and doing hard physical labour with a completely broken bone all without even knowing it. That part scared me a bit, what if it had been my neck or spine?

    When the bloodwork came back, it showed I had high thyroid levels so I was sent for an ultrasound. I had also been having some difficulty swallowing so my doctor thought it may be best to get that looked at. I am so thankful for my doctor because without him, I’m not sure where I would be today. During my visit, the lab-tech was training a new technician so they were running their scans over my Adam’s Apple and discussing what they were seeing on the screen. I heard them mention nodules on my thyroid but at the time I had no idea what that meant. I tried to avoid googling it just so that I could hear an actual run-down from a medical professional rather than getting worked up over what it may mean.

    After about a week, I had returned to work and was sitting in a backhoe. When a funeral service was “grave-side”, we knew that the ceremony was coming to a close, we would respectfully wait in the distance for them to return to their vehicles before we approached to fill in the grave and tidy up the surrounding areas. My phone rang, and I answered. It was an endocrinologist calling me.

    “We have received your test results and have a diagnosis.”

    I kept my eye on the grieving family awaiting the signal from the funeral director, it was a mother being interred and her children were near the grave placing dirt on the casket as part of their ceremony.

    “We have found some nodules located on your thyroid that are causing hormone imbalances which is why you are experiencing hyperactivity, changes in your mood, and having panic attacks. You have Grave’s Disease.”

    I burst into uncontrollable laughter; had I not been so far away from the family I would have felt horrible should they have heard me, thankfully I was far enough away and in an enclosed cab!

    “It’s not really that funny Mr. Ackerman” the endocrinologist said.

    I couldn’t help myself so I replied, “it is from where I’m sitting right now.”

    I’m not sure if she found me funny or not honestly, I was only met with silence so I tried to break the tension, “does this mean I can stop test-driving all of the other autoimmune conditions now that you found one that fits?” More silence…

    Eventually, after my chuckling had subsided, she explained to me the symptoms and causes. Graves Disease is an autoimmune condition where the immune system targets the thyroid and attacks it. It causes it to be over-active and pump out hormones into my system which results in things like anxiety, high metabolism, and engages my fight or flight response. It all began to make sense and thank god I had been doing my pain psycho therapy to help me be less afraid of what was being said. It was just another thing for me to learn about and at least I finally had a course of action to follow and a plan of attack.

    I was prescribed methimazole and have been taking it ever since. So far so good, though it sometimes goes a bit heywire.

    Because of all of my symptoms and anxiety, I still was unable to be a reliable employee. I kind of felt like my world was crashing around me and was a bit depressed. I was constantly in and out of doctors offices, making appointments or having to reschedule them due to my work schedule. I had to get regular doctor’s notes for days off which was just another appointment for me to try and make it to. Each month I was in at least 3 different doctor’s appointments and getting blood work done every three weeks, let alone other diagnostic tests whenever doctors needed more data. I attended regular pain psychotherapy appointments, began in-person counselling to better manage my lifestyle, and was given plenty of exercises to do in order to maintain any level of normalcy. I was still experiencing flaring and I was having difficulty getting simple things done around the house. I couldn’t keep up with all of life’s demands.

    I also felt a great deal of internal pressure to perform. I had a great boss who was very understanding. I’m so thankful for him because he had an energy that I admired. I hated letting him down and making more work for him and the team whenever I was unable to attend work. It meant that he had to restructure the schedule to constantly accommodate me. Being there or not being there, plus dealing with whatever capacity I arrived with, was difficult for anyone to manage. I couldn’t communicate what was happening to me, hell even I didn’t understand it myself let alone share that with someone else, and each day brought long-conversations so that we both could understand what I was capable of and what I was not capable of. It began to take about a person and a half to do my job simply because of the administrative burden it placed on my employer. They did everything they could to help accommodate me but no matter what, it always resulted in more work and more time lost. It was inefficient and very costly to the company, a company that deals with grieving family’s money. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved and I never imagined that one person’s symptoms could affect so many people.

    I had a very long conversation with my doctor. I wanted to continue to work but at the same time I felt so much pressure and regret that I couldn’t commit to anything past one day’s notice. I never knew what the next day would bring and when you are planning team projects or being part of a coordinated effort, other people depend on you being there. I couldn’t promise anything to anybody. I hate uncertainty and I began to become a nuisance. Together, we decided that, in order for me to be able to function in any sort of capacity and limit damage done to my body, I had to apply for disability insurance through a private provider so that I could focus on my medical requirements.

    It took a while for me to get used to it. I had been so active in volunteering in various ways, I had been working full time, I had been a parent and partner with every ounce of energy I could muster. I had a lot of commitments that needed to be set aside so that I could focus and that required careful curation and sorting.

    Over the past little while I have actually backed away from all excess extra-curricular activities and, though I may seem quite active on social media, I actually spend a lot of time resting. It’s not an option, either I plan it now or my conditions will make me do it when it’s the least opportune time. I have been learning how to adapt my world to fit my needs, learning my boundaries and participating in various therapies such as vocational and occupational in order to find out what I’m actually capable of without over-extending myself.

    Since I’ve begun creating this new life, I have reduced the effects of my flaring. I still have them but I no longer need to go through the process of explaining it to anyone. If I need rest, I rest. If I need to reschedule an appointment, I can do so free of guilt. It’s made life much simpler for me but my conditions still make me feel guilty for having an invisible illness from time to time. Others may see me as an active member of the community, involved in many things, working and living my life. In reality, I’m carefully managing my time. Calculating what I’m able to accomplish each day and severely paying for times that I overdo it.

    I wake up in the morning, in a cold sweat, and I practice mindfulness. I sit peacefully in reflection of my previous day, things I did well and things I could have done better, and I take an inventory of what my body might be trying to tell me. I touch base with a few of my friends to make sure that other people are aware and I feel heard. Then I plan the day ahead so that I can be the best version of me for those I love. Some days, that means I have to rest. Some days it means I can do some light work around the house. Some days, it means I can be of service to other people. I have begun to find my stride.

    No longer able to maintain a lifestyle of physical labor, I am learning new skills to be able to manage and supervise. It’s something that I am not used to and I never thought it would be such a task to adapt. I’m used to jumping into situations with both feet and accomplishing great things, now I have to carefully plan and adapt as I go so that I do not over-exhert myself. I can become overwhelmed very easily by stress, infection, injury, or sometimes even by thinking too hard. My “battery” becomes drained very easily though many of my symptoms have greatly subsided. I experience extreme fatigue early on in my day. Where I used to be able to have a full day of activity I now only have about 6-8 usable hours on average, sometimes even less. I have to fit a whole life into a quarter of the time. It really takes careful consideration to be able to focus on the most important things and protect myself.

    In order to function and still have purpose, with the help of my insurance provider and healthcare teams, I have been able to start working towards building a new future for myself and my family. I have been able to build a new company and work for myself.

    Now that I am able to manage my own time, free from having to report or adapt, I feel like I can begin to function outside of the typical nine-to-five box that I was trying to fit into. It has freed up my time and allowed me to focus on being productive once again. I never realized how much pressure I was placing upon myself to be able to be responsible to someone else’s expectations. I have learned some new skills and included various technologies to help me adapt as well.

    Sometimes, I am unable to use a keyboard due to the dexterity it requires to type so I’ll swap to a smart-phone or voice-to-text in order to continue to do my work. I can take as many breaks as I need free from guilt to stretch or walk, or do some errands. I can work as I am able, meaning that sometimes I am not working during the day and responding to messages during hours that most people wouldn’t typically work. Because I can manage my own time, I’m also cancelling and rescheduling appointments much less often and I’m able to do the exercises and meditations necessary to calm my nervous system or address my symptoms. I’ve begun to find balance.

    Returning to a previous industry, I began to work with people experiencing extreme clutter and hoarding once again but in my own way. With the support of my friends and neighbours, we have founded a company together, Neighbourhood Hoarding Solutions Inc., so that I have people in my life that know of my limitations and are not dependent upon me for income. I have been able to hire people to do the physical work for us and they also require accommodations on occasion for various reasons. We can work together and help others, doing the best we can with what we have as a group. It has given me a new outlook and purpose and though we are still in our infancy, I am finding myself with extended energy at the end of each day and a new sense of calm that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Many of our clients are experiencing physical and mental limitations as well, so if I ever need to reschedule or adapt, they are very understanding and always grateful for my transparency. It’s like I’ve found a new community to belong to and I’ve made leaps and bounds towards building a bright outlook and new life. I am hoping that, as I continue to grow and build new professional skills, I will be able to have even more success in overcoming many of the obstacles I am sure to face as my conditions progress.

    I am “painfully aware” that not everyone has had the same privileges as me in their own experiences. I am so very blessed and grateful for what I have been given and I don’t want to waste it. I wish that everyone had paths available to them in a similar way to my own and I hope to be able to help guide others through their own experiences by sharing mine. We, the disabled, are diverse. There is no “one path” for any of us to follow, but perhaps people can begin to see hope or someone may be able to find something within my story that may help them in their own journey. Much of my inspiration has come from speaking with people that have walked the path before me.

    The burden of fear is no longer a driving force in my world. I am nowhere near perfect, but I am moving in the right direction. I hope that whoever reads this is also able to find their way towards peace and unconditional love. We should all be so lucky, disabled or not, we are all in this together. Never a dull moment. I am excited to see what the future may hold.

  • The Bubble Boy Part Deux

    The Bubble Boy Part Deux

     In a world gone haywire, how does one stay sane?

    The world is against me, after a series of events out of my control, I am a victim. I have been wronged, held back, limited, beaten down for too long and I can’t take it anymore. If only they would be more like me, think more like me, the world would be more peaceful and get along better. The struggles I am experiencing would be alleviated. I wouldn’t feel guilty and ashamed anymore, I could go back to feeling proud of who I am. I could help others.

    That was my mindset on many evenings as I finished up my 5th or 6th beer. I’d grumble to myself about the state of affairs in the world around me, in the lives of the people around me. The company I worked for. In my head, I was solving all of their problems. Why couldn’t they understand it? What are they not getting? How dumb can they be?

    As I rounded my 9th my high ego would turn into a mood of self-loathing. I had wrecked it all. I had caused everything in my life to collapse. I had hurt so many people along the way. Nothing I could do was good enough and no matter what I tried; it was all going to end in a pit of despair with everyone around me getting hurt.


    By my 12th, I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking anymore, or if I even was. I was on autopilot. My eyes unfocused, my words barely able to fumble their way across my tongue and past my lips. My brain no longer recording the events that transpire.

    Oblivion.

    This was a typical evening for me; give or take a few beers, but the end result would be the same. It continued like that for years, a decade and a half actually. A cycle of going to work sober in the morning, racing home in the evening, and celebrating my arrival with my first drink of the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I took some small “vacations” from drinking here and there along the way. The breaks from were typically initiated by some form of drama or chaos happening within my life, self-induced I’ll admit. I would momentarily be lucid enough to understand that my addiction was not helping, so it needed to go or something in my life would, I was forced out of necessity.

    Unfortunately, the idea never really stuck for long. I’d be able to obtain stretches of sobriety for a few weeks, perhaps a month or two, before succumbing to the inevitable. I’d convince myself that I was cured and therefore I could go back to the way it was. I could go back to being a part of the rest of the world. I’d hide my return to drinking out of shame and justify it to myself in my head for as long as I could before being discovered. Hiding everything I was doing from the public eye. I’d plot my entire guilt story in my head in case anyone ever caught me, then I could “open up” about how it wasn’t the problem and something else was, promise I was going to address it. After a week or two I’d be back in my old patterns and the cycle continued.

    I’ve come a long way in three years though. I feel like I’ve grown up by ten. In three years, I’ve had to “play catch-up” with everything I failed to learn over the past 16 years and I doubt I’m even close.

    I know now that I used drinking as an escape from the seriousness of the world, when in reality it was literally preventing me from learning and absorbing new things (like coping skills). Because I wasn’t present for my life experiences, the meaning was lost and any lessons meant to be learned were not recorded. I got caught up in a fantasy world, a bubble, a place I made up. A world not as it is but as I wanted it to be. I was stuck in my own head but I am not so sure this perspective is exclusive to only addicts.

    So how does one get out of that pit? I can tell you it’s a hell of a long journey and there is no end-game only maintenance. It’s completely worth it though and; cliché as it may be, it starts by asking for help.

    We’ve all heard it a million times. “It’s ok to ask for help.” We’ve also heard the same response a million times, “I have a hard time doing that.” That’s where the conversation ends.

    Now, as you read this you are probably nodding your head; even if only internally. This, or situations just like it, are common. People do not know how to proceed to “the next step.”

    Let me explain some of my current perspectives. I want to try and help.

    Are you the kind of person who would drop everything to help a close friend or family member in a time of need? Do you love the feeling of being useful, being asked to help a friend with a really personal problem? Do you want to be there for your friends and family, to support and love them? Have you been in a situation where someone really relied on you and you were able to come through for them in those intimate moments or an emergency?

    If you answered “yes” to any of those questions then ask yourself this… Why are you stopping people in your life from getting that feeling of fulfillment?

    Everyone (or most people anyway) are waiting for any excuse to be useful to those they love or someone else. They are literally waiting on baited breath and want to jump on any opportunity to have purpose and impact in the lives of those around us. It makes us feel good to be needed, it’s rewarding to our egos and self-esteem, plus we get to feel like we made a difference in someone’s life.

    Even strangers, especially those volunteering or working in support groups or call centers, do it because they want to make a meaningful impact on someone or something in this world. Give them the opportunity.

    But what about the feelings of being judged?

    People who judge are one of two things. They are either unable to fully understand the situation because they lack the appropriate experience in their lives to draw from (congratulations you are their first) or they are unable to because of their own emotional status. It’s not their fault and it has nothing to do with you. It does mean however that you may have to ask for help from someone else. No need to put all of your eggs in one basket.

    Again, this is a great place for helplines, non-profit organizations, or step programs to stand in. If you don’t have people to turn to or feel judged, these places are full of people just waiting to be given the opportunity to be useful.

    It all starts with one action, one conversation, one step in the right direction. Sometimes it’s a matter of simply stopping, sitting still, and ending the cycle. Staying where you are, even for a day, is better than sliding backwards. It’s progress.

    One thing I do know is that solitude and isolation are two completely different things. I used to believe that my isolation was a good thing, being away from the public kept me sane because people were my problem, I was protecting myself and it was reactive to the world around me. Now I know that people were my solution all along, my thinking was the problem. Solitude is much more deeply planned as a way to compliment my thinking.

    I was once stuck in a world where I believed everyone around me was drinking and that they were healthier than me, they were the normal ones. I was stuck in a world where I was the only one suffering from anything. I was so wrong; the world is far more beautifully complicated and diverse. In suffering we are united, it’s one thing we all have in common. It’s a feeling we all understand in our own, very personal, way. We will all suffer at some point in our lives, it’s inevitable.

    So why pretend like we don’t? On the most primitive of levels the answer is easy. Embarrassment and low self-esteem.

    I’ve taken at least half a dozen first aid courses in my life. Most jobs I’ve had have required me to have first aid and I have had to use it on occasion. I will always remember what one of my CPR instructors said at the front of the class, right before we began to learn the Heimlich maneuver.

    She asked, “what is the first thing someone does when they realize that they are choking?” to a doe-eyed classroom, half full of people who would rather not be there. After a moment of silence, she provided the answer, “they leave to get away from people and retreat to the bathroom or another secluded place as to not cause a scene.”

    My eyes widened with complete and utter realization in that moment. It is our human instinct to retreat to a place where we are away from help and will surely die alone. It is our INSTINCT to do the opposite of what we should do to keep ourselves alive. What we should be doing is making the universal choking symbol at the first sign of trouble and letting those around us know of the imminent emergency, even if it ends up being a false alarm.

    That is something that truly resonates with me after all of these years and I now know how to look for the signs of someone who is “choking” because I’ve experienced it from both perspectives. I’ve both died and been saved in my own way.

    I believe we are all lost in our own minds and experiences. It’s nearly impossible to believe or perceive another person’s perspective. We do not know their stories, but we can at least understand that we all suffer.

    So, what signs do we look for to know that someone is suffering? How do we help another person who may be stuck? How can we tell if someone is choking? Well, here is another analogy for you.

    Imagine you are walking down a path in a peaceful forest, birds are chirping, the breeze is gently flowing. As you walk, you happen across a dog in the path. You approach the dog gently, smile as you lean in to pet it. It bares its teeth, snarling and growling, it lashes at your outstretched hand. Taken back, you stand upright and naturally retreat your hand away from the open jaws of the animal. What are you feeling in this moment? Likely shocked, hurt, confused, maybe even a little angry at the animal.

    Why would it do such a thing when you were only trying to be kind?

    As you step back your field of view expands and something catches your eye. A hunter’s trap. The dog’s hind leg is stuck in painful trap and it appears to have been this way for quite some time. The dog is hungry, angry, lonely, tired, and; above all, scared.

    Does your opinion of the dog’s reaction change?

    My friends, we have all been this dog at some point in our lives. If we haven’t been, we will be one day. We have also all been the person extending their hand. Now is the time to come to a greater understanding of each other’s situation. We can remove the traps and continue our walk together. We can heal from our wounds.

    I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t asked for help from someone in my life who I believed knew better than me. I wouldn’t be writing this right now, you wouldn’t be reading it, if I hadn’t accepted their advice and guidance and believed that they had my best interests in mind. My son wouldn’t exist or if he did, I wouldn’t know him. People in my life noticed my bared teeth and snarling, they took a step back and noticed the trap on my leg and offered to help. Most importantly, I accepted their help and listened to them.

    I’m thankful to say it has worked until now and continues to work today. I hope to make the people who have helped me proud, so that their hard work and effort is paid in full by my presence. I hope to work each day to make myself as healthy as I can be to put myself in a better position for the future. I hope for the opportunity to be able to help others. I hope to be able to take all of my experiences, even the ones I am not proud of, especially the ones that hurt someone else and make them count towards something meaningful to someone else.

    Perhaps the true secret is that we were never sane to begin with.

    If you enjoyed this blog entry, please let me know. I love hearing feedback. If there is something you’d like to hear more about or a topic you’d like me to write about send me an email. Let’s have a conversation.

    Thank you to everyone for their continued support. To my wife, my daughter, my family, and my friends I could never have done any of this without you. Keep fighting the good fight and I’ll keep trying to do better or at the very least do good.

    Thank you to the person that answered my call for help.

    To quote the famous Canadian, Red Green, “Keep your stick on the ice, we’re all in this together.”

  • Fingers Crossed

    Fingers Crossed

    I had no idea what Rheumatoid Arthritis was when my doctor gave me the diagnosis. Even as he explained the disease, the gravity didn’t quite sink in. My symptoms had already been aggressively showing themselves over the past several months, so the disease itself was already a reality but now it had words attached to it.

    It all started with my right wrist.

    At the time I was an account manager for an electrical wholesaler. It was my job to travel around Northern Alberta and visit customers like Sawmills, Pulp Mills, Oil Sites, and other industrial locations. Our company provided them with services and products such as explosion proof lighting, automation solutions, buttons and controls, programmable logic controllers (PLC’s), and motor control centres (MCC’s) so it involved a lot of travelling and touring around facilities; often with another representative or specialist.

    In the year prior I had been given a new sales territory. It incorporated the Lloydminster Alberta Area and extended north to Cold Lake and south to Camrose; everything in between. I spent most of my time in the Lloydminster and Bonnyville Regions because my company had a branch there.

    I remember that I had been doing some yard work at home and believed I must have lightly sprained my right wrist. I decided to take some Tylenol to manage the pain and took off to Lloydminster for a few days for work; I’d be staying in a hotel and I was sure I’d heal by the time it was time to return home.

    The first day was pretty normal; felt like I had a sprained wrist so I wrapped it and tried not to use it very much, but by that evening it had turned into a dull throb.

    When I woke up the next day, my left wrist was also feeling sprained. I could barely get myself dressed. My right wrist felt like someone had just hit it with a hammer and my left wrist felt sprained. I started for home that evening.

    The following day; both wrists felt like I had hit them hard. I couldn’t open or close my hands and my fingers were puffed up like sausages. The pain had also navigated its way into my shoulders.

    By the end of the week, the feeling was in both wrists, both shoulders, both hips, knees, ankles, hips, and down my spine. My temperature began to fluctuate; cold chills and hot flashes in rotation.

    Luckily, I had been in contact with my family doctor and he immediately sent me for bloodwork, noting a lot of swelling in my joints.

    By the time the bloodwork came back a day or two later, I was unable to leave the couch. I just laid there writhing in pain trying not to cry. I couldn’t hold anything like a phone or remote; not like I could really focus long enough anyway.

    The phone call came in and my doctor explained to me that my Rheumatoid Factor was incredibly high and I needed immediate medical attention. He placed me on a set of painkiller prescriptions while he put me in touch with a Rheumatologist.

    I left my position as account manager so I could be closer to home and focus on getting to healthcare appointments. I began working as a Commercial Project Sales Manager with another local Electrical Wholesaler.

    I met with my Rheumatologist and received my diagnosis on October 18th, 2019. He sent me for a myriad of other tests. He explained that Rheumatoid Arthritis is an autoimmune disease; it’s an overactive immune system that fights not just the bad cells but also the good. It would slowly attack my joints and organs. He also showed me images of the disfigured toes and fingers that people often experience if the disease goes untreated. Oddly enough, the images made sense in my head of what was happening to me.

    My condition felt as if all of my joints were trying to slowly bend sideways or backwards; I liken it to “boneitis” for anyone who has seen that Futurama Episode. If I tried to open my hands, it felt as if there were elastic bands holding them closed; the knuckles in my feet felt like they were large marbles.

    The biggest thing going through my head; this is forever and I’d never get to hold my son. Oh, I didn’t mention that my wife was 5 months pregnant at the time I got diagnosed?

    My poor wife having to watch her husband wriggle in pain on the couch, not being able to do anything to help, herself having a rough pregnancy and me being too laid up to give her the attention she deserved. My step daughter, having to watch her step father crying in pain; moaning in agony.

    I still drift off in thought whenever I remember these times. It was probably the most stressful situation I’ve been in to date and I’ve had a few. It is the closest I have ever been to suicide and that’s even including all of my drinking years but that’s a story for another time.

    My rheumatologist put me on Methotrexate and Plaquenil (Hydroxychloroquine) to manage the condition. I was to be injecting myself with a needle in the stomach once per week with Methotrexate; a chemical used in larger doses for Chemotherapy and Abortions.

    My pharmacist; an amazing woman to me, helped teach me how to inject myself by pinching a fatty area on my stomach and injecting myself subcutaneously. Thank God for her because I was scared; I had never had to deal with so many medical things at once and injecting myself with a fluorescent yellow radioactive substance was not my idea of a good time.

    I began my regiment.

    The methotrexate would result in me feeling as if I had the flu for about 13-24 hours following the injection. I took some vitamins to try and alleviate the nausea so I could focus a bit more. Over the next few months, I tried to learn a routine. I’d take my needle on a weekend so I wouldn’t be affected as much at work, I’d eat certain things with lots of vitamins to try and help but the gross feeling was getting too much to handle.

    We swapped my meds; we kept the methotrexate injections but replaced the hydroxychloroquine with leflunomide. It helped and I’ve been on the same regiment ever since.

    While my condition was beginning to improve, the rest of life was happening. I had taken in an abused German shepherd to rehabilitate but he was too aggressive to have around a baby. I had to rehome him. He was my sobriety buddy and it was incredibly hard emotionally for me. I still have issues in regards to it.

    On January 31, 2020 my grandmother was admitted to hospital with cancer. She passed away February 6th, 2020 with me and my uncle by her side.

    On February 10, 2020 my son was born in the same hospital; three floors up.

    By the end of February, the Covid-19 Pandemic had reached Alberta. Lockdowns began.

    During all of the excitement I had begun to feel a little better and was focusing pretty heavily on getting my affairs in order so we could bring my son into the world. I lapsed in learning more about my condition. It was improving and I was feeling a lot better, so what more would I need to know?

    The autoimmune portion was what I had missed.

    When speaking with my doctor about what to do about the pandemic he reminded me that my condition was a very serious autoimmune disease. My knuckles and joints were just a physical symptom but I have a very real invisible disease that leaves me susceptible to infections and limits my treatment options. With his guidance, I decided to leave the sales industry, stop my social volunteering, in search of something more isolated. I couldn’t risk getting the virus; I was compromised.

    Funny, because I had actually begun to feel better and was managing my illness with medications and had begun to exercise. In fact, since my sobriety date of September 21, 2018 I had lost roughly 25 lbs through exercise and better lifestyle choices.

    My father; my savior, offered me a position working with him at his thermodynamics consulting company. I could learn metalwork, design, drawings, and stay away from the general public. For me it was great. I got to spend time with my family, I got to go for long walks on the family farm, and I learned all kinds of new skills.

    I was still “flaring” on occasion and they were becoming more and more frequent; close to two or three days a week. My whole body would be in shooting pain; just like my RA had come back. Again, I was sent for all kinds of lab work but all of it came back normal. My condition was managed according to their tests so my symptoms were a result of something else.

    In February 2021, I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. My rheumatologist told me that there was nothing he could do for me any further and handed me a piece of paper with a helpline number on it. I then spoke with my family doctor and he explained the condition. He said, “there is nothing we can do to help aside from prescribing anti-anxiety medication but we try to use those only as a last resort. This condition does not respond to medication or pain killers. Right now, the best thing you can do is eat healthy, exercise to get in shape, and work on creating a sleep regiment.”

    So that’s exactly what I began doing; after having another complete emotional breakdown of course.

    This is by no means every last detail of my journey and it continues every day. Honestly a lot of it was an emotional blur. During my diagnosis I was only a year sober, emotional as hell, had a pregnant wife, had family with illnesses, and a life going on. I was trying to hold it all together.

    Today my condition is managed and my symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis are minimal. I’m very lucky to be where I am right now; others are not so lucky or take years to receive a diagnosis. My heart goes out to all of those dealing with a chronic illness or disease.

    Obviously, I have also touched on a few other topics I could write about in future blogs but I was trying to stay focused. If you’d like to hear more about anything in particular, please send me an email letting me know. What I’m hoping for is to use this as a tool to learn more about myself; perhaps others can use my experiences to learn from as well.

    Thank you for reading my first blog entry. I also want to thank everyone who has been a support to me along the way. I could never have gotten this far alone.

    Stay tuned for more and thanks again for being a part of my path in life.