Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Although I have put off the "official" beginning of The Cinnamon Experiment...
...I am still keeping close tabs, continuing to administer cinnamon since it isn't hurting anything and still actively wondering about what is affecting her body chemistry and how. Her bare glucose numbers (3 readings today, each previous to a meal) going backwards (this is the way the meter reads out): Dinner reading: 60; Lunch reading (4 hours previous to dinner): 213; Breakfast reading (5 hours previous to lunch): 85.
The lunch reading was a surprise but shouldn't have been. She's still on the guaifenex and will continue at least through tonight. She was up considerably more today. That helped to clear much of the lung congestion. The readings for breakfast and dinner are spectacular. I did administer cinnamon today, the equivalent of half a teaspoon (she wanted two pieces of toast and I was pleased her appetite was coming back) at breakfast and 1/4 teaspoon at lunch. I forgot about it at dinner. She had 425 mg metformin at breakfast, 500 at lunch and 500 at dinner to help counteract the guaifenex.
Breakfast was as mentioned in an earlier post only with two slices of bread, twice as much margarine as usual and 1/2 tsp cinnamon. Lunch was the same as yesterday which I note I forgot to mention: About a cup of hearty beef soup with added beef and vegetables, V-8 juice with 1/4 tsp cinnamon, cheese and Wheat Thins crackers. Today, though, I gave her about 2/3's cup of 4% fat small curd cottage cheese instead of cheese and crackers. Dinner was a hearty Cobb salad with a variety of deep greens, radishes, Bermuda onion, green pepper, carrot, celery, grated sharp yellow cheddar, 1/2 a chopped boiled egg, 1 deli slice roast beef chopped, croutons and dressing; and a diet root beer.
I've discovered I have to be careful with what I mix the cinnamon. In V-8 juice it works well, adds an interesting top note. In other fluids like diet root beer and tea it turns into a snotty brown substance clinging to the inside of the container. Pretty unappetizing. I need to get cinnamon sticks tomorrow.
It should be clear tomorrow though cold, but calm they say. We're in a KitchenAid deep bowl of a valley here in Prescott which sometimes blocks both wind and precipitation. My experience is that a day like today will yield a pretty energetic Mom tomorrow so I may have her go with me on the errands I must run. I think I'll bed her down for a nap when I go for my acupuncture appointment (I'm having my thumbs treated). I'm more available to the treatment if Mom's not there.
Although most of the time she looks pretty normal anemically speaking, still at least once a day I look at her, usually after her nap, and she looks pale. The light today was pretty much the same as yesterday: Glare-y white winter light. She looked better basking in the living room today than yesterday. I was so surprised I mentioned this to her.
I cancelled the endoscopy this morning with the internist's scheduler. I'd spent a part of the early morning practicing for it. I've had to cancel twice with schedulers and discovered quickly that it is not an administrative position but a marketing position. It is almost as though they make a commission for every cancellation they turn around. I'd marshaled my research and my reason and used them but in a much different much gentler way than I'd expected. First of all, my morning practice had completely drained me of anxiety so when I called the scheduler I wasn't on the defensive, I was merely on an errand. To my surprise, after I gave her the reason for my call, to cancel the procedure and when it was scheduled, I stopped. I realized that this was all I needed to say. If she wanted to know anymore she could ask. She did. "Oh," I said. "You want to know why I'm canceling the procedure. All right."
I went on to explain my mother's experience with the colonoscopy last summer in the name of her anemia, at which point the scheduler broke in and said, "Yes, but this is an endoscopy."
"Yes," I said. "What I'm telling you will explain to you why I am canceling the endoscopy, just hang in here with me."
Silence.
I continued telling her the colonoscopist's final words to me regarding her experience of scoping my mother and her opinion of any further scoping to any purpose. I cited my research about the procedure and the elderly. I cited the recent study which concluded that endoscopies and colonoscopies in anyone 85 or older were discouraged except in cases involving life or death situations. I went on to explain why I did not at this time consider my mother's anemia, which so far reverses itself for no yet discovered reason, life threatening. I explained why it is my belief that from what I'd read of the endoscopy procedure it would indeed be at least as "torturous" (as the colonoscopist described my mother's colonoscopy), if not more so than her colonoscopy experience was pronounced by the physician who performed it and that because of what I'd learned about endoscopies I agree with the colonoscopist that any further investigation for internal bleeding should be confined to non-invasive imaging. I was as smooth as silk.
"Thank you," said the scheduler. "I'll relay this information to Dr. Prescott Internist."
That's it. Short, well, relatively short and certainly sweet. It's funny, previous to the other two cancellations I'd also done my research, sought other opinions and learned how to interpret lab work in order to make sense of it. For some reason, though, maybe because I hadn't experienced the colonoscopy near-debacle, I was an easy target. While I still cancelled the procedures, I did so from what felt like a position of weakness instead of strength. The case was reversed, this time. I have the strength of experience behind me. What a difference this makes.
I'm expecting repercussions but I don't care anymore. If there are repercussions I'm prepared to deal with them since I know within what range they'll fall. If there are none then, well, then my sisters, the acupuncturist and I are not the only smart ones involved in my mother's medical care. That would be a good thing. I can deal with that, too.
Tonight just a bit ago I rewatched the last episode of Sex and the City. I had a particular focus. I was surprised last night when my mother suggested that the writers could have come up with a better "ending" for Carrie than Mr. John Big. Although I haven't asked her, yet (I intend to), while I watched I imagined a "Carrie's End" that would have satisfied my mother. I think I've come up with one. Carrie leaves the light sculptor but instead of running into Mr. Big immediately she goes out to find her new friends, the ones who threw the party for her. With some trouble she finds them, apologizes profusely, renews these contacts, stays in Paris, builds a new extension to her life, discovers she is pregnant, decides to raise the child alone in Paris and makes a name for herself in Parisian and world literature as a writer. That's how I think my mother would like it to end. If I can remember I'll ask her tomorrow without coaching.
No more scopes, Mom. I promise.
Later.
The lunch reading was a surprise but shouldn't have been. She's still on the guaifenex and will continue at least through tonight. She was up considerably more today. That helped to clear much of the lung congestion. The readings for breakfast and dinner are spectacular. I did administer cinnamon today, the equivalent of half a teaspoon (she wanted two pieces of toast and I was pleased her appetite was coming back) at breakfast and 1/4 teaspoon at lunch. I forgot about it at dinner. She had 425 mg metformin at breakfast, 500 at lunch and 500 at dinner to help counteract the guaifenex.
Breakfast was as mentioned in an earlier post only with two slices of bread, twice as much margarine as usual and 1/2 tsp cinnamon. Lunch was the same as yesterday which I note I forgot to mention: About a cup of hearty beef soup with added beef and vegetables, V-8 juice with 1/4 tsp cinnamon, cheese and Wheat Thins crackers. Today, though, I gave her about 2/3's cup of 4% fat small curd cottage cheese instead of cheese and crackers. Dinner was a hearty Cobb salad with a variety of deep greens, radishes, Bermuda onion, green pepper, carrot, celery, grated sharp yellow cheddar, 1/2 a chopped boiled egg, 1 deli slice roast beef chopped, croutons and dressing; and a diet root beer.
I've discovered I have to be careful with what I mix the cinnamon. In V-8 juice it works well, adds an interesting top note. In other fluids like diet root beer and tea it turns into a snotty brown substance clinging to the inside of the container. Pretty unappetizing. I need to get cinnamon sticks tomorrow.
It should be clear tomorrow though cold, but calm they say. We're in a KitchenAid deep bowl of a valley here in Prescott which sometimes blocks both wind and precipitation. My experience is that a day like today will yield a pretty energetic Mom tomorrow so I may have her go with me on the errands I must run. I think I'll bed her down for a nap when I go for my acupuncture appointment (I'm having my thumbs treated). I'm more available to the treatment if Mom's not there.
Although most of the time she looks pretty normal anemically speaking, still at least once a day I look at her, usually after her nap, and she looks pale. The light today was pretty much the same as yesterday: Glare-y white winter light. She looked better basking in the living room today than yesterday. I was so surprised I mentioned this to her.
I cancelled the endoscopy this morning with the internist's scheduler. I'd spent a part of the early morning practicing for it. I've had to cancel twice with schedulers and discovered quickly that it is not an administrative position but a marketing position. It is almost as though they make a commission for every cancellation they turn around. I'd marshaled my research and my reason and used them but in a much different much gentler way than I'd expected. First of all, my morning practice had completely drained me of anxiety so when I called the scheduler I wasn't on the defensive, I was merely on an errand. To my surprise, after I gave her the reason for my call, to cancel the procedure and when it was scheduled, I stopped. I realized that this was all I needed to say. If she wanted to know anymore she could ask. She did. "Oh," I said. "You want to know why I'm canceling the procedure. All right."
I went on to explain my mother's experience with the colonoscopy last summer in the name of her anemia, at which point the scheduler broke in and said, "Yes, but this is an endoscopy."
"Yes," I said. "What I'm telling you will explain to you why I am canceling the endoscopy, just hang in here with me."
Silence.
I continued telling her the colonoscopist's final words to me regarding her experience of scoping my mother and her opinion of any further scoping to any purpose. I cited my research about the procedure and the elderly. I cited the recent study which concluded that endoscopies and colonoscopies in anyone 85 or older were discouraged except in cases involving life or death situations. I went on to explain why I did not at this time consider my mother's anemia, which so far reverses itself for no yet discovered reason, life threatening. I explained why it is my belief that from what I'd read of the endoscopy procedure it would indeed be at least as "torturous" (as the colonoscopist described my mother's colonoscopy), if not more so than her colonoscopy experience was pronounced by the physician who performed it and that because of what I'd learned about endoscopies I agree with the colonoscopist that any further investigation for internal bleeding should be confined to non-invasive imaging. I was as smooth as silk.
"Thank you," said the scheduler. "I'll relay this information to Dr. Prescott Internist."
That's it. Short, well, relatively short and certainly sweet. It's funny, previous to the other two cancellations I'd also done my research, sought other opinions and learned how to interpret lab work in order to make sense of it. For some reason, though, maybe because I hadn't experienced the colonoscopy near-debacle, I was an easy target. While I still cancelled the procedures, I did so from what felt like a position of weakness instead of strength. The case was reversed, this time. I have the strength of experience behind me. What a difference this makes.
I'm expecting repercussions but I don't care anymore. If there are repercussions I'm prepared to deal with them since I know within what range they'll fall. If there are none then, well, then my sisters, the acupuncturist and I are not the only smart ones involved in my mother's medical care. That would be a good thing. I can deal with that, too.
Tonight just a bit ago I rewatched the last episode of Sex and the City. I had a particular focus. I was surprised last night when my mother suggested that the writers could have come up with a better "ending" for Carrie than Mr. John Big. Although I haven't asked her, yet (I intend to), while I watched I imagined a "Carrie's End" that would have satisfied my mother. I think I've come up with one. Carrie leaves the light sculptor but instead of running into Mr. Big immediately she goes out to find her new friends, the ones who threw the party for her. With some trouble she finds them, apologizes profusely, renews these contacts, stays in Paris, builds a new extension to her life, discovers she is pregnant, decides to raise the child alone in Paris and makes a name for herself in Parisian and world literature as a writer. That's how I think my mother would like it to end. If I can remember I'll ask her tomorrow without coaching.
No more scopes, Mom. I promise.
Later.
