Today I had a KUMed appointment with my home doctor to bring him up to date on the events of the summer. I took him all the lab reports from NIH, as well as some information about Pirfenidone. He seemed quite pleased with how thorough NIH was and all the tests they ran. I also had to get new copies of all of my prescriptions as my nearby pharmacy went out of business.
The good news was that when he listened to my lungs he heard NOTHING! They sounded clear as a bell! For the last year it seems like almost any time anyone listened to my lungs there was at least a bit of “crackling.”
I have felt like I’ve been breathing a bit easier lately, but attributed it to the psychological aspect of being in the trial rather than an actual improvement. After all, it’s been much less humid and not hot, which is much better breathing weather for me.
The bad news, however, was that I didn’t lose a single pound – not even one! I just can’t get my head around how that’s possible. If three weeks of almost solid diarrhea and a much decreased appetite doesn’t even help you lose a single pound, then what else will? Geeesh – in fact I’d gained three. I was upset. I thought for sure I’d lost something, even a little something. It was going to be the one up side to the constant visiting the bathroom and ostomy leaks.
So, in response I did the only sane thing a person could do – I threw a culinary tantrum. Craving fried chicken for weeks (but not willing to give up the Weight Watchers points for it) I marched right over to Jazz, a Cajun restaurant across the street from the hospital, and ordered exactly what I wanted – fried chicken, hush puppies and cole slaw. Take that! Then, I went to Starbucks and got a fufu coffee for desert. HA!
Okay, I realize this was not a rational response, and now that I’ve got it out of my system I guess it’s time to climb back on the wagon for all the good it does me – but maybe after tomorrow night. I’m having Mexican with some girl friends. I’ve got a really bad attitude right now.
The good news was that when he listened to my lungs he heard NOTHING! They sounded clear as a bell! For the last year it seems like almost any time anyone listened to my lungs there was at least a bit of “crackling.”
I have felt like I’ve been breathing a bit easier lately, but attributed it to the psychological aspect of being in the trial rather than an actual improvement. After all, it’s been much less humid and not hot, which is much better breathing weather for me.
The bad news, however, was that I didn’t lose a single pound – not even one! I just can’t get my head around how that’s possible. If three weeks of almost solid diarrhea and a much decreased appetite doesn’t even help you lose a single pound, then what else will? Geeesh – in fact I’d gained three. I was upset. I thought for sure I’d lost something, even a little something. It was going to be the one up side to the constant visiting the bathroom and ostomy leaks.
So, in response I did the only sane thing a person could do – I threw a culinary tantrum. Craving fried chicken for weeks (but not willing to give up the Weight Watchers points for it) I marched right over to Jazz, a Cajun restaurant across the street from the hospital, and ordered exactly what I wanted – fried chicken, hush puppies and cole slaw. Take that! Then, I went to Starbucks and got a fufu coffee for desert. HA!
Okay, I realize this was not a rational response, and now that I’ve got it out of my system I guess it’s time to climb back on the wagon for all the good it does me – but maybe after tomorrow night. I’m having Mexican with some girl friends. I’ve got a really bad attitude right now.
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