Tummy troubles

There are a few reasons my stomach is screwy, one of which you will not pull out of me no matter how much you wheedle, whine, and beg, so don't bother. Only Biz and Sarah "Feekis Maximus" Feeko know, and I'm keeping it that way. But the other reason I will discuss, because the other reason is palsy. Yep, palsy. Most people don't realize that Cerebral Palsy is a total-body condition. Have a muscle, any muscle? Then guess what: it's affected. The classification system doctors use is only a sort of quick-reference guide to what happens to be affected most. I, for instance, have a type of CP known medically as Spastic Diplegia -- "spastic" meaning stiff, and the "di" part of diplegia meaning "Two." People with this type of CP have two of the same limbs affected, so arms or legs. Although I'd say that in 99 percent of cases, it's legs, because I have seen a lot of people with Cerebral Palsy, and I have yet to come across any cases of diplegic arms. Which would totally suck, by the way. (Oh, and if you're wondering about the "plegia" part, your assumption is correct: CP is actually a type of paralysis. I cannot feel random sections of my legs.) But like I said earlier: CP is a total-body condition affecting muscles, and the stomach just so happens to be a muscle. Which I suppose means I am perpetually screwed as far as my digestion goes.

It didn't used to be this way. One of the sneaky things about Cerebral Palsy is the plateau phenomenon: people with CP generally reach a certain level of function as kids and stay there until their late teens, and then WHOAH! -- things start to happen. It's not actually a progression of the condition, because speaking in technical terms, CP is not actually progressive. I can't wake up with more brain damage tomorrow. I can, however, wake up with a new secondary symptoms, because the potential for them was always there to begin with. My stomach is one of those things. When I was a kid, I could actually digest my food like a normal human being. Now, more often than not, I swallow something and my stomach goes: "Huh? Oh, screw it." This leads to a lovely little thing called chronic nausea, which is absolutely mind-blowing in its insidious nastiness. I'll go to bed fine and then wake up puking. I have to be really, really careful about what I eat: tropical fruit is off-limits, as are reasonable quantities of dairy and too much fiber, believe it or not. Eat the whole wheat bread, but only two slices a day. Want fruit? Have a banana. Buy lactose-free milk. Want that nectarine? The ice cream cone? Better hope you're having a really good day, or you're gonna suffer.

Before my doctors realized what was up, I actually had my gallbladder removed at the age of 23 for the sake of a single stone. I was put on a medication called Reglan, which should never, ever, ever, under any circumstances, be given to people who suffer from depression. If you have a depressive condition and your doctor tries to foist this stuff on you, REFUSE IT. If you don't, chances are good you'll end up taking a header off your balcony long before you finish the first third of the bottle. There's actually a petition circulating to pull Reglan off the market. That's how dangerous it is. Ask for something called eyrithromycin instead, which is an antibiotic that does the same thing as Reglan without all the red-label side effects. It might make you hungry, but far better to be hungry than dead. (P.S.: I am not a doctor. Don't take this advice, go off and maim yourself, and then blame it on me. That's not nice.)

These days, along with the occasional regimen of above-mentioned antibiotics, I have become an expert at finding ways to control and/or quell persistent nausea. 1. Drink tea. Lots of tea. Any tea. Hot tea, cold tea, ginger tea. Drink tea with breakfast, lunch and dinner. It helps. I don't know why, but it helps. 2. Drink your beverages lukewarm if you can hack it. This prevents shock to the digestive system, according to my gastrointerologist. 3. Ginger. Ginger snaps, ginger ale, ginger root, ginger in capsule form. Inhale the stuff like there won't be any left in the world after tomorrow. 4. Chew gum. I have found that mint helps most. Chew it slowly. 5. After you eat, lie on your left side for awhile. This is supposed to help digestion. 6. Eat small, frequent meals instead of 3 huge ones. It's less for your stomach to handle. 7. There's a product on the market called Digestive Advantage. It works for me sometimes.

When all else fails, I have to take a prescription strength anti-emetic, which I hate because it practically puts me in a coma for at least 12 hours. I have fallen asleep in class and at work because of it. Some days (like today) I actually elect to miss work rather than upheave all over the newspapers I'm archiving. It's kind of pathetic because I'm only working 10 hours a week this summer anyway, which is why chronic nausea is so frustrating: sometimes, you just can't deal. Granted, if I was better about remembering to take my meds, I could probably function better. But I have to take so many it's hard to remember what I've missed for the day until it's too late. Sometimes I forget I haven't taken my Paxil until I start to cry at commercials featuring happy families in sedans. There's a phone service I use to call me at med time, but the trouble with that is I have to remember to schedule it every night before I go to bed so I don't screw up the next day. Either way, there's always something to remember. It'd be a lot easier on me if they invented once-monthly injections for all this crap like they have for osteoporosis meds and birth control. I don't need either one of those things. I need tummy stuff and antidepressants, but do they make those like that? No, of course not. It might actually make something in my life simple.

So until Big Daddy Pharma catches up with my wandering mind, here I sit.

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