Santa's Andrenal Fatigue

So I have this friend ... I met her via FB and in person a couple times.  She has this blogpage, and I love it.  I'm sharing one of her most recent articles, because I have so much to add (oh, that and the fact that I was laughing so hard I was crying!).  Here's the whole article, I'll be using her great stuff and adding my own personal response! 

http://utahcountyskeptics.blogspot.com/2012/07/fake-thing-based-on-real-thing-adrenal.html

So Johanna writes this blog talking about a fake thing based on a real thing ... adrenal fatigue.  Immediately my ears perk up because this two words seem to be the new buzz word phenomenon for women, um, cough, sputter, entering my age group.  Adrenal Fatigue, in essense, is a diagnosis for all that ails you.
  Interestingly, Johanaa diagnosed herself very scientifically.  She took a quiz in a women's magazine.  Very scientific indeed.  She answered questions about allergies, unexplained headaches, her inability to confront people, and stress.  Guess what?  She has mild adrenal fatigue!

Don't worry, there's a cure ... and cue.  Here's where I step in.  Unbeknownst to Johanna, she summed up the story of my life a couple of months ago.  Here's how it goes ... it started with a headache in January.  The headache reached red zone, I'm dizzy, I start puking, and begrudgingly head into my doctor's office.  My blood pressure was off the charts (uh, yeah, pain will do that) and I was given a shot of something in my butt, a prescription for two different things, and a referral to a neurologist (I have a stroke history, so headaches are always a little "iffy").  Within 20 minutes I'm home.  I break into a rash, hives, and I want to crawl out of my skin. What was that shot?

I see a neurologist who orders an MRI.  I see my family practice doctor (who had left the practice, grrrrr, leaving me with a 61 year-old PA I refer to as Santa's Helper because I am sure he is an elf, he wants to do and be good, but he's only an elf and incapable of rational thought processes) for a refill on my synthroid.  Santa's Helper looks at my chart and says, "hmmm, I see here you recently have had some problem with a headache?"  I said yes, told him I had a stroke history, I was waiting for MRI results, and this was essentially out of his perview.  He pressed. I was suddenly being told there was an answer to not only my headache, but also the 3 strokes, the blood disorder, and the disabling insomnia that has haunted me since stroke 1.  Really?  Really???  In years of being told by specialists and professionals that my "condition" could only be "managed" this little elf presented a new word, hope.

Santa's Helper started asking me the same questions Johanna was answering in her women's magazine.  Perhaps that is where he got his medical diploma?  Either that or a cracker jack box.  I digress. I took this little word, hope, and ran with it.  Yes, yes you little elf, I am stressed out and exhausted.  What's that you say?  Headaches?  All the time!  Allergies?  Oh yeah.  No appetite or appetite for only crap food when I do eat?  Yes, please.  Lack of sleep, horrible.  Oh, really?  Adrenal fatigue you say?  And what exactly is that?

I suddenly found myself signing up for what Santa's Helper referred to as "integrated healthcare".  Allow me to translate.  On March 13, 2012, on the date of my 38th birthday, I found myself sitting across from a girl named Connie.  Connie works for Santa's Helper, perhaps an elf in training, I'm not sure.  Connie had some piece of metal something or another she instructed me to hold in my hand while she "wanded" areas of my body.  All of this information was calibrated into her computer in the forms of graphs and charts. Wala!

Connie smiled as she tried to explain the graphs and charts.  Red zone is bad, yellow is getting bad, green you are okay.  Here is your body ... ooh, red, lots of red.  Red is bad, right?  Right. Through the magic of what can only be elf magic, Connie convinced me I had a heart problem, adrenal "burnout" (not just fatigue, take that Johanna! lol!), hormone issues, oh, and apparently my gall bladder is inflammed which is interesting considering it was removed over 2 years ago.  Despite all of this, I sit there doe eyed like I was in front of a great healer.  I held about 6 pill bottles in my hands.  "So, if I take this, no more strokes, no more insomnia, no more headaches, right?"  Connie smiled, "right! oh, and change your diet to exactly what I say!"  Huh.  Ok.  So I leave with the following:  $300 worth of "supplements", some tincture of something, and a powdered estrogen called Maui Wowy to suck down 2x/day.  ALSO, a new diet plan including me becoming a complete vegan ... complete.  Good bye cheese, milk, eggs, chicken ... oh wait, I COULD have pork, weird.

I begin.  The day starts with two handfuls of supplements, a Maui Wowy kale soy milk (throwing up thinking about it) shake.  There was a trip to the health food store to scrupulously investigate all foods to make sure it was in my new "diet".  I left with a bill for $200 and a couple of organic pieces of produce in my cart.  More supplements, another shake, tincture of whatever, water.  By day three my skin was starting to break out and felt like it was "thinning".  I felt like I had the skin combo of a prepubsecent teen and a 90 year old women ... thin, pale, dry patches on my face.  Not okay.  I didn't make it to 38 with no botox or injections etc. to now fall apart from some "supplements". 

I called the North Pole immediately and talked to elf in training, Connie.  She told me it was my body "cleansing" itself and it was okay, maybe okay, okay.  MAYBE okay, Elf Connie?  In the same conversation my 4 year-old was having a meltdown in the background.  She suggested I put him on a dairy free diet and he would never have another tantrum. Really?  Really??  News flash.  No more dairy, stepford child.  Who knew?  Apparently not me as I tried to convince Caden the sugar free soy hot chocolate was the same as his regular full volt cocoa. He still has meltdowns. 

MRI results are in. 

Neurologist:  "So, you had another stroke.  It was small, but see that spot (points to MRI)? 

Me: Crap. Ok, it was small.  Hmmm. Well, I've been on this new health plan taking these supplements, etc.  My doctor said I have adrenal burnout and that means I am deficient in certain hormones, vitamins, and minerals.  Yeah, I know I have that whole clotting disorder, but the doctor said if I get my whole system in check then that will resolve ... right? 

Neurologist: (smiles) "How much did you spend on those "supplements"?"

Me: (hang head in shame) Alot. But seriously, isn't there any truth to it?

Neurologist: (smiles, again) "Cortney, I can see your MRI. I can see scarring from the other strokes.  It's right here.  I can see your blood work.  I know you have a clotting disorder.  Frankly, you've dodged a bullet.  Being a vegan and taking a hundred supplement pills a day isn't changing that.  You need to get serious about this.

Me: (head hangs lower) Okay. What's next?

The neurologist referred me to the University of Utah, the "gold" standard here in Utah.  He informed me the appointment would take "months to get" and gave me a plan of action in the meantime.  The next week I had a follow up with Santa's Helper. He was elfishly grinning as he held up my blood work.  "I knew it, you have adrenal burnout!  Look at these test results!"  He then correlated my test results with Connies (elf in training) graphs of red.  I listened, but then I said, "um, here's the deal, I saw the neurologist and ... " I proceeded to tell Santa's Helper about my appointment upcoming at the U, supplements were not the answer and neither was being a vegan.

Here's the twist that can only happen in Utah County ... his response was initially irritated and said the medical community (of which he is part of, duh) didn't understand the whole supplement connection and it was new and my neurologist was just crazy.  Huh.  Well ... the neurologist has a few extra years of school Mr. P.A., so I'm going to go ahead and go with his diagnosis. Response?  Santa's Helper pulled the God card.  He asked me how active I was in church, related my inactivity to all things medical, and wrapped it up telling me he wanted to give me a blessing.  I was not being punked.  Needless to say, this experience is another blog.  Let's leave it at I left without the blessing and Santa's Helper was minus a butt cheek.  Had he not been Santa's Helper and my irrational fear that Santa is real and if you tick off his helpers you get no Christmas, Santa's Helper would have been minus both butt cheeks.

Bottom line.  I read Johanna's blog and thought, "holy crap, ok, my situation is extreme, but how many Utah county housewives who are a little tired, stressed, etc. are seeing this bozo being given that elusive "hope" as long as they light their credit card on fire with supplement purchases?  They get a diagnosis (and maybe a blessing if they question they disagnosis!).  Adrenal fatigue/burnout.  They get the ever living crap scared out of them.  They get a cure. They get a promise that all will be well from a REAL doctor (not a chiropractic neurologist, wth is that Johanna?!), so you think it's true.  I wanted desperately to combine a whole person approach to "heal" what was broken with the first stroke.

Two weeks later I saw the doctor's at the University of Utah. After 5 hours of being poked, prodded, questioned, and MRI's and blood work screened they came up with the following.  I have a brain unlike the psychiatric neurologist has NEVER seen.  To sum it up, an MRI shows scarring on my communication center, alot of scarring. However, I can still effectively communicate.  I can walk, my balance is a little off and I get dizzy more than most, but I can walk. I have stress levels that are a bit "unbalanced" (a nice way of saying my Type A personality needs to chill out) and for whatever miraculous reason something inside of me has propelled me forward to continue living... not in a vegetative paralyzed state.  Flattered?  Of course. 

Reality?  I think we all have a personal power we can tap into if we are willing.  My source of "moving on" is ironic in that with each stroke I have had the same thought, "I don't have time for this crap, I have kids and Jon would make a lousy single parent." Yes, it's aboslutely Type A control freak sort of stuff, but it's propelled me out of the hospital every time.  With each episode, I talk like a drunk, I weeble and waffle, have some PT, and then get on with life. Sure, I've "dodged bullets", but I have.

Sometimes, you just manage what you have.