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Rare Disease Day 2027: MaryO, Pituitary/Adrenal Insufficiency/Kidney Cancer Bio

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rare disease day

Adapted from Participatory Medicine

This is kind of a “cheat” post since it’s a compilation of other posts, web pages, message board posts and some original thoughts. I’m writing it to submit to Robin’s Grand Rounds, hosted on her blog.

For all of my early life, I was the good, compliant, patient. I took whatever pills the doctor prescribed, did whatever tests h/she (most always a HE) wrote for. Believed that whatever he said was the absolute truth. He had been to med school. He knew what was wrong with me even though he didn’t live in my body 24/7 and experience what I did.

I know a lot of people are still like this. Their doctor is like a god to them. He can do no wrong – even if they don’t feel any better after treatment, even if they feel worse. “But the doctor said…”

Anyway, I digress.

All this changed for me in 1983.

At first, I noticed I’d stopped having my periods and, of course, I thought I was pregnant. I went to my Gynecologist who had no explanation. Lots of women lose their periods for a variety of reasons so no one thought that this was really significant.

Then I got really tired, overly tired. I would take my son to a half hour Choir rehearsal and could not stay awake for the whole time. I would lie down in the back of the van, set an alarm and sleep for the 30 minutes.

A whole raft of other symptoms started appearing – I grew a beard (Hirsuitism), gained weight even though I was on Weight Watchers and working out at the gym nearly every day, lost my period, everything hurt, got what is called a “moon face” and a “buffalo hump” on the back of my neck. I also got stretch marks. I was very depressed but it’s hard to say if that was because of the hormone imbalance or because I felt so bad and no one would listen to me.

I came across a little article in the Ladies Home Journal magazine which said: “If you have these symptoms…ask your doctor about Cushing’s”. After that, I started reading everything I could on Cushing’s and asking my doctors. Due to all my reading at the library and medical books I bought, I was sure I had Cushing’s but no one would believe me. Doctors would say that Cushing’s Disease is too rare, that I was making this up and that I couldn’t have it.

I asked doctors for three years – PCP, gynecologist, neurologist, podiatrist – all said the now-famous refrain. It’s too rare. You couldn’t have Cushing’s. I kept persisting in my reading, making copies of library texts even when I didn’t understand them, keeping notes. I just knew that someone, somewhere would “discover” that I had Cushing’s.

My husband was on the doctors’ sides. He was sure it was all in my mind (as opposed to all in my head!) and he told me to just think “happy thoughts” and it would all go away.

A Neurologist gave me Xanax. Since he couldn’t see my tumor with his Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) machine there was “no possibility” that it existed. Boy was he wrong!

Later in 1986, I started bruising incredibly easily. I could touch my skin and get a bruise. On New Year’s Day of 1987, I started bleeding under the skin. My husband made circles around the outside perimeter each hour with a marker, like the rings of a tree. When I went to my Internist the next day he was shocked at the size. He now thought I had a blood disorder so he sent me to a Hematologist/Oncologist.

Fortunately, the Hematologist/Oncologist ran a twenty-four-hour urine test and really looked at me. Both he and his partner recognized that I had Cushing’s. Of course, he was sure that he did the diagnosis. No matter that I had been pursuing this with other doctors for 3 years.

It was not yet determined if it was Cushing’s Disease (Pituitary) or Syndrome (Adrenal). However, he couldn’t help me any further so the Hematologist referred me to an Endocrinologist.

The Endocrinologist, of course, didn’t trust the other tests I had had done so I was back to square one. He ran his own multitude of tests. He had to draw blood at certain times like 9 AM. and 5 PM. There was a dexamethasone suppression test where I took a pill at 10 p.m. and gave blood at 9 am the next day. I collected gallons of urine in BIG boxes (Fun in the fridge!). Those were from 6 a.m. to 6 a.m. to be delivered to his office by 9 a.m. same day. I was always worried that I’d be stopped in rush hour and the police would ask about what was in that big container. I think I did those for a week. He also did standard neurological tests and asked lots of questions.

When the endo confirmed that I had Cushing’s in 1987 he sent me to a local hospital where they repeated all those same tests for another week and decided that it was not my adrenal gland (Cushing’s Syndrome) creating the problem. The doctors and nurses had no idea what to do with me, so they put me on the brain cancer ward.

When I left this hospital after a week, we didn’t know any more than we had before.

As luck would have it, NIH (National Institutes of Health, Bethesda, Maryland) was doing a clinical trial of Cushing’s. I live in the same area as NIH so it was not too inconvenient but very scary at first to think of being tested there. At that time I only had a choice of NIH, Mayo Clinic and a place in Quebec to do this then-rare pituitary surgery called a Transsphenoidal Resection. I chose NIH – closest and free. After I was interviewed by the Doctors there, I got a letter that I had been accepted into the clinical trial. The first time I was there was for 6 weeks as an inpatient. More of the same tests.

There were about 12 of us there and it was nice not to be alone with this mystery disease. Many of these Cushies (mostly women) were getting bald, couldn’t walk, having strokes, had diabetes. One was blind, one had a heart attack while I was there. Towards the end of my testing period, I was looking forward to the surgery just to get this whole mess over with. While I was at NIH, I was gaining about a pound a day!

The MRI still showed nothing, so they did a Petrosal Sinus Sampling Test. That scared me more than the prospect of surgery. (This test carries the risk of stroke and uncontrollable bleeding from the incision points.) Catheters were fed from my groin area to my pituitary gland and dye was injected. I could watch the whole procedure on monitors. I could not move during this test or for several hours afterward to prevent uncontrollable bleeding from a major artery. The test did show where the tumor probably was located. Also done were more sophisticated dexamethasone suppression tests where drugs were administered by IV and blood was drawn every hour (they put a heplock in my arm so they don’t have to keep sticking me). I got to go home for a weekend and then went back for the surgery – the Transsphenoidal Resection. I fully expected to die during surgery (and didn’t care if I did) so I signed my will and wrote last letters to those I wanted to say goodbye to. During the time I was home just before surgery, a college classmate of mine (I didn’t know her) did die at NIH of a Cushing’s-related problem. I’m so glad I didn’t find out until a couple months later!

November 3, 1987, the surgeon, Dr. Ed Oldfield, cut the gum above my front teeth under my upper lip so there is no scar. He used tiny tools and microscopes. My tumor was removed successfully. In some cases (not mine) the surgeon uses a plug of fat from the abdomen to help seal the cut. Afterward, I was in intensive care overnight and went to a neurology ward for a few days until I could walk without being dizzy. I had some major headaches for a day or two but they gave me drugs (morphine) for those. Also, I had cotton plugs in my nostrils. It was a big day when they came out. I had diabetes insipidus (DI) for a little while, but that went away by itself – thank goodness!

I had to use a foam product called “Toothies” to brush my teeth without hitting the incision. Before they let me go home, I had to learn to give myself an injection in my thigh. They sent me home with a supply of injectible cortisone in case my level ever fell too low (it didn’t). I was weaned gradually off cortisone pills (scary). I now take no medications. I had to get a Medic Alert bracelet. I will always need to tell medical staff when I have any kind of procedure – the effects of my excess cortisone will remain forever.

I went back to the NIH for several follow-up visits of a week each where they did all the blood and urine testing again. After a few years, NIH set me free. Now I go to my “outside” endocrinologist every year for the dexamethasone suppression test, 24-hour urine and regular blood testing.

As I get further away from my surgery, I have less and less chance that my tumor will grow back. I have never lost all the weight I gained and I still have the hair on my chin but most of my other symptoms are gone. I am still and always tired and need a nap most days. I do not, however, still need to take whole days off just to sleep.

I consider myself very lucky that I was treated before I got as bad as some of the others on my floor at NIH but think it is crazy that these symptoms are not taken seriously by doctors.

My story goes on and if you’re interested some is on this blog and some is here:

Forbes Magazine | MaryO’s bio | Cushing’s and Cancer Blog | Interview Archive 1/3/08 | Cushing’s Awareness Day Testimonial Archive |

Because of this experience in getting a Cushing’s diagnosis – and later, a prescription for growth hormone – I was concerned that there were probably other people not being diagnosed with Cushing’s. When I searched online for Cushing’s, all the sites that came up were for dogs and horses with Cushing’s. Not what I was looking for!

In July of 2000, I was talking with my dear friend Alice, who runs a wonderful menopause site, Power Surge, wondering why there weren’t many support groups online (OR off!) for Cushing’s. This thought percolated through my mind for a few hours and I realized that maybe this was my calling. Maybe I should be the one to start a network of support for other “Cushies” to help them empower themselves.

I wanted to educate others about the awful disease that took doctors years of my life to diagnose and treat – even after I gave them the information to diagnose me. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer for years like I did. I wanted doctors to pay more attention to Cushing’s disease.

The first website (http://www.cushings-help.com) went “live” July 21, 2000. It was just a single page of information. The message boards began September 30, 2000 with a simple message board which then led to a larger one, and a larger. Today, in 2010, we have over 7 thousand members. Some “rare disease”!

People are becoming more empowered and participating in their own diagnoses, testing and treatment. This have changed a lot since 1983!

When I had my Cushing’s over 20 years ago, I never thought that I would meet another Cushing’s patient in real life or online. Back then, I’d never even been aware that there was anything like an “online”. I’m so glad that people struggling with Cushing’s today don’t have to suffer anymore thinking that they’re the only one who deals with this.

Because of my work on the websites – and, believe me it is a ton of work! – I have had the honor of meeting over a hundred other Cushies personally at local meetings, conferences, at NIH (the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, MD where I had my final diagnosis and surgery). It occurred to me once that this is probably more than most endocrinologists will ever see in their entire career. I’ve also talked to countless others on the phone. Amazing for a “rare” disease!

I don’t know what pushed me in 1983, how I got the confidence and self-empowerment to challenge these doctors and their non-diagnoses over the years. I’m glad that I didn’t suffer any longer than I did and I’m glad that I have a role in helping others to find the medical help that they need.

What do *YOU* think? How are you becoming empowered? Comments welcome


• Medicine 2.0 (Toronto, Canada) September 17-18, 2009. Robin Smith (staticnrg), Mary O’Connor (MaryO) and Dr Ted Friedman will be panelists. The topic is “Paying It Forward in the Digital Age: Patient Empowerment 2.0 Using Web 2.0”. Robin submitted this topic. She wrote: Paying it Forward in the Digital Age: Patient Empowerment 2.0 using Web 2.0

An online community is usually defined by one or two things. These come from blogs, websites, forums, newsletters, and more. The emphasis is typically either totally support or education. But sometimes all of these meet. The Cushing’s community, bonded by the lack of education in the medical community and the necessity or self-education has become a community of all of these things.

Mary O’Connor, the founder and owner of the Cushings’ Help website and message boards started with one goal in mind. She wanted to educate others about the awful disease that took doctors years to diagnose and treat in her life. Armed only with information garned from her public library and a magazine article, she self-diagnosed in the days prior to the availability of the internet.

Mary’s hard work and dream have paid off. Others, with the same illness, the same frustrations, and the same non-diagnosis/treatment have been led by MaryO (as she’s lovingly called) to work with her to support, educate, and share.

The Cushing’s Help website soon led to a simple message board which then led to a larger one, and a larger. The site has numerous helpful webpages chock full of information. The members of this community have made a decision to increase awareness of the disease, the research that is ongoing with the disease, the doctors who understand it, and the lack of information about it in the medical field.

From this hub have come multiple Web 2.0 spokes. Many members have blogs, there is a non-profit corporation to continue the programs, a BlogTalkRadio show with shows almost every week, thousands of listeners to podcasts produced from the shows, twitter groups, facebook groups, twines, friendfeeds, newsletters, websites, chat groups and much, much more. The power of Web 2.0 is exponential, and it is making a huge difference in the lives of patients all over the world. It is Empowerment 2.0.

One patient said it well when she said, “Until this all began I was a hairstylist/soccer mom with a high school education. It’s been a learning curve. I am done with doctors who speak to me as if they know all; I know better now.” And she knows better because she’s part of our community. All patients need this type of community.

More info here.


MaryO’s Original Bio

Click on pictures to enlarge.

Around 1983 I first started to realize I was really sick. At first I noticed I’d stopped having my periods and, of course, I thought I was pregnant. I went to my Gynecologist who had no explanation. Then I got really tired. I would take my son to a half hour Choir rehearsal and could not stay awake for the whole time.

A whole raft of other symptoms started appearing – I grew a beard (Hirsuitism), gained weight even though I was on Weight Watchers and working out at the gym nearly every day, lost my period, everything hurt, got what is called a “moon face” and a “buffalo hump” on the back of my neck. I also got stretch marks. I was very depressed but it’s hard to say if that was because of the hormone imbalance or because I felt so bad and no one would listen to me.

I came across a little article in the Ladies Home Journal which said “If you have these symptoms…ask your doctor about Cushing’s”. After that, I started reading everything I could on Cushing’s and asking my doctors. Due to all my reading at the library, I was sure I had Cushing’s but no one would believe me. Doctors would say that Cushing’s Disease is too rare, that I was making this up and that I couldn’t have it.

My husband just told me to think “happy thoughts” and it would all go away. A Neurologist gave me Xanax. Since he couldn’t see my tumorwith his Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) machine there was “no possibility” that it existed. Boy was he wrong!

In late 1986 I started bruising incredibly easily. I could touch my skin and get a bruise. On New Year’s Day of 1987 I started bleeding under the skin. My husband made circles around the outside perimeter each hour with a marker. When I went to my Internist the next day he was shocked at the size. He now thought I had a blood disorder so he sent me to a Hematologist/Oncologist.

I was also having trouble with my feet and walking, so I had the distinction of going to two doctors in one day, a Podiatrist in the morning and the Hematologist/Oncologist in the afternoon.

Fortunately, the Hematologist/Oncologist ran a twenty-four hour urine test and really looked at me. Both he and his partner recognized that I had Cushing’s.

It was not yet determined if it was Cushing’s Disease (Pituitary) or Syndrome (Adrenal). However, he couldn’t help me any further so the Hematologist referred me to an Endocrinologist.

The Endocrinologist, of course, didn’t trust the other tests I had had done so I was back to square one. He ran his own multitude of tests. He had to draw blood at certain times like 9 AM. and 5 PM. There was a dexamethasone suppression test where I took a pill at 10 p.m. and gave blood at 9 am the next day. I collected gallons of urine in BIG boxes (Fun in the fridge!). Those were from 6 a.m. to 6 a.m. to be delivered to his office by 9 a.m. same day. I was always worried that I’d be stopped in rush hour and the police would ask about what was in that big container. I think I did those for a week. He also did standard neurological tests and asked lots of questions.

When he confirmed that I had Cushing’s he sent me to a local hospital where they repeated all those same tests for another week and decided that it was not my adrenal gland (Cushing’s Syndrome) creating the problem. The doctors and nurses had no idea what to do with me, so they put me on the brain cancer ward.

When I left this hospital after a week, we didn’t know any more than we had before.

As luck would have it, NIH (National Institutes of Health, Bethesda, Maryland) was doing a clinical trial of Cushing’s. I live in the same area as NIH so it was not too inconvenient but very scary at first to think of being tested there. At that time I only had a choice of NIH, Mayo Clinic and a place in Quebec to do this then-rare pituitary surgery called a Transsphenoidal Resection. I chose NIH – closest and free. After I was interviewed by the Doctors there, I got a letter that I had been accepted into the clinical trial. The first time I was there was for 6 weeks as an inpatient. More of the same tests.

There were about 12 of us there and it was nice not to be alone with this mystery disease. Many of these Cushies (mostly women) were getting bald, couldn’t walk, having strokes, had diabetes. One was blind, one had a heart attack while I was there. Towards the end of my testing period, I was looking forward to the surgery just to get this whole mess over with. While I was at NIH, I was gaining about a pound a day!

The MRI still showed nothing, so they did a Petrosal Sinus Sampling Test. That scared me more than the prospect of surgery. (This test carries the risk of stroke and uncontrollable bleeding from the incision points.) Catheters were fed from my groin area to my pituitary gland and dye was injected. I could watch the whole procedure on monitors. I could not move during this test or for several hours afterwards to prevent uncontrolable bleeding from a major artery. The test did show where the tumor probably was located. Also done were more sophisticated dexamethasone suppression tests where drugs were administered by IV and blood was drawn every hour (they put a heplock in my arm so they don’t have to keep sticking me). I got to go home for a weekend and then went back for the surgery – the Transsphenoidal Resection. I fully expected to die during surgery (and didn’t care if I did) so I signed my will and wrote last letters to those I wanted to say goodbye to. During the time I was home just before surgery, a college classmate of mine (I didn’t know her) DID die at NIH of a Cushing’s-related problem. I’m so glad I didn’t find out until a couple months later!

November 3, 1987, the surgeon,Dr. Ed Oldfield, cut the gum above my front teeth under my upper lip so there is no scar. He used tiny tools and microscopes. My tumor was removed successfully. In some cases (not mine) the surgeon uses a plug of fat from the abdomen to help seal the cut. Afterwards, I was in intensive care overnight and went to a neurology ward for a few days until I could walk without being dizzy. I had some major headaches for a day or two but they gave me drugs (morphine) for those. Also, I had cotton plugs in my nostrils. It was a big day when they came out. I had diabetes insipidus (DI) for a little while, but that went away by itself – thank goodness!

I had to use a foam product called “Toothies” to brush my teeth without hitting the incision. Before they let me go home, I had to learn to give myself an injection in my thigh. They sent me home with a supply of injectible cortisone in case my level ever fell too low (it didn’t). I was weaned gradually off cortisone pills (scary). I now take no medications. I had to get a Medic Alert bracelet. I will always need to tell medical staff when I have any kind of procedure – the effects of my excess cortisone will remain forever.

I went back to the NIH for several follow-up visits of a week each where they did all the blood and urine testing again. After a few years NIH set me free. Now I go to my “outside” endocrinologist every year for the dexamethasone suppression test, 24-hour urine and regular blood testing.

As I get further away from my surgery, I have less and less chance that my tumor will grow back. I have never lost all the weight I gained and I still have the hair on my chin but most of my other symptoms are gone. I am still and always tired and need a nap most days. I do not, however, still need to take whole days off just to sleep.

I consider myself very lucky that I was treated before I got as bad as some of the others on my floor at NIH but think it is crazy that these symptoms are not taken seriously by doctors.

 

Update: Fall, 1999:

I went for my regular testing with my private endocrinologist.

Besides the annual testing, he told me that my pituitary gland is shutting down, so I must always have extra cortisone (Cortef) for any medical stress such as surgery or the flu.

Many people are now finding that they need HgH after pituitary surgery, so an Insulin Tolerance Test was performed. My endocrinologist painted a very rosey picture of how wonderful I’d feel on Growth Hormone. It sounded like a miracle drug to me!

I was only asked to fast before the ITT and to bring someone with me to take me home. There is no way I could have driven home. I got very cold during the test and they let me have a blanket. Also, though, lying still on that table for so long, my back hurt later. I’d definitely take – or ask for – a pillow for my back next time. They gave me a rolled up blanket for under my knees, too.

I don’t remember much about the test at all. I remember lying very still on the table. The phlebotomist took blood first, then tried to insert the IV (it took a few tries, of course). Then the endo himself put the insulin in through the IV and took the blood out of that. I remember the nurse kept asking me stupid questions – I’m sure to see how I was doing on the consciousness level. I’d imagine I sounded like a raving lunatic, although I believed that I was giving rational answers at the time.

Then everything just got black…I have no idea for how long, and the next thing I knew I was becoming aware of my surroundings again and the doctor was mumbling something. They gave me some juice and had me sit up very slowly, then sit on the edge of the table for a while. When I thought I could get up, they gave me some glucose tablets “for the road” and called my friend in. I was still kind of woozy, but they let her take me out, very wobbly, kind of drunk feeling.

My friend took me to a close-by restaurant – I was famished – but I still had trouble with walking and felt kind of dazed for a while. When I got home, I fell asleep on the sofa for the rest of the day.

But the most amazing thing happened. Saturday and Sunday I felt better than I had for 20 years. I had all this energy and I was flying high! It was so wonderful and I hoped that that was from the HgH they gave me to wake me up.

I will have to take this test annually until I do I do qualify for HgH. I got a small taste of what I would feel like on this drug – that weekend I felt much better than I can remember feeling in a very long time. Hopefully, at some point, I will “qualify” for this drug, even though it means a daily injection. I would really like to feel better sometime – less tired, less depressed, more human.

In July of 2000, I was talking with my dear friend Alice, who runs a wonderful menopause site, Power Surge, wondering why there weren’t many support groups online (OR off!) for Cushing’s and I wondered if I could start one myself and we decided that I could. This website (http://www.cushings-help.com) first went “live” July 21, 2000 and the message boards September 30, 2000. Hopefully, with this site, I’m going to make some helpful differences in someone else’s life.

The message boards are very active and we have weekly online text chats, weekly live interviews, local meetings, email newsletters, a clothing exchange, a Cushing’s Awareness Day Forum, podcasts, phone support and much more.

Whenever one of the members of the boards gets into NIH, I try to go to visit them there. Other board members participate in the “Cushie Helper” programwhere they support others with one-on-one support, doctor/hospital visits, transportation issues and more.

My husband, Tom posted this on the message boards:

“I just read your description of the 9 year ordeal. I am Mary’s husband and much of your story was familiar.Mary diagnosed her own illness. After a prolonged journey from doctor to doctor.

After her surgery and recovery, I found myself at a neurologist’s office for some trivial ailment and the place seemed familiar.

Then it dawned on me that I had been there before with Mary. This was one of the doctors who had failed to listen. Or perhaps simply had no knowledge base about Cushing’s.

In any event, I stopped the process I was there for and changed the subject to the previous visit 4 years ago. I told the doctor to look up his records on Mary O’Connor and study them. Told him that what he would see in his files was a case of Cushing’s, misdiagnosed as something that might respond to Valium.

I said he could learn something and perhaps help the next person who arrived with Cushing’s.

Out of fairness to the medics, the ailment is so rare that a doctor can go his entire career and never see a single case. And it is certainly possible that the doctor may fail to diagnose the few cases they may see.

Mary’s surgery was done at NIH. It came down to them or the Mayo Clinic. At the time we did not realize that NIH was free and we selected them over Mayo based on their success and treatment record. They were happy to learn they had beat Mayo without a price advantage. We were happy to hear it was free.

During the same time Mary was at NIH, another woman had the same operation. She came from Mary’s home town. They were class mates at college. They had the same major. They were the same age. They had the same surgical and medical team. Mary recovered. The other woman died during surgery.

I am an aggressive person who deals directly with problems. I enjoy conflict and I thrive in it.

This experience made clear how little we control. And how much depends on the grace of God.

This year we celebrated our 28th anniversary. Our son has grown into a fine young man and is succeeding admirably in college.
Life is the answer. We keep going on….undaunted and ever hopeful.

Tom O’Connor”

Update July 26, 2001

I saw the endo today. My pituitary function is continuing to drop, so August 6, I’ll Be having another ITT, as described above. Hopefully, after this one, I’ll be able to take Growth Hormone and start feeling better!

Update August 6, 2001

I had the ITT this morning. I don’t get any results until a week from Thursday, but I do know that I didn’t recover from the insulin injection as quickly as I did last time. The endo made a graph for my husband of me today and a “normal” person, although I can’t imagine what normal person would do this awful test! A normal person’s blood sugar would drop very quickly then rise again at about a right angle on the graph.

I dropped a little more slowly, then stayed very low for a long time, then slowly started to rise. On the graph, mine never recovered as much as the normal person, but I’m sure that I did, eventually.

The test this time wasn’t as difficult as I remember it being, which is good. Last time around, I felt very sweaty, heart pounding. I don’t remember any of that this time around. I do know that I “lost” about an hour, though. The phlebotomist took the first blood at 9:15, then the endo injected the insulin and took blood every 15 minutes after that. I counted (or remembered) only 4 of the blood draws, but it was 11:30 when they told me that my sugar wasn’t coming up enough yet and I’d have to stay another 30 minutes. It actually ended up being another hour.

Kim, the phlebotomist, asked me if I got a headache when they “crashed me” and I have no recollection of any of that.

Like last time, I was very, very cold, even with the blanket and my left arm – where the heplock was – fell asleep. Other than that – and my back hurting from lying on one of those tables all that time this wasn’t as bad as I remembered.

So, I waited for 10 days…

Update Fall, 2002

The endo refused to discuss my fatigue or anything at all with me until I lost 10 pounds. He said I wasn’t worth treating in my overweight condition and that I was setting myself up for a heart attack. He gave me 3 months to lose this weight. Those 3 months included Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years.

I know that I would like to lose weight, but I’d like to do it on my own terms, not over Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, not because this endo was rude about it. I left his office in tears. I’m now looking for a new one…

Update Fall, 2004

I left my previous endo in November of 2002. He was just too rude, telling me that I was setting myself up for a heart attack and that I wasn’t worth treating. I had left his office in tears.

Anyway, I tried for awhile to get my records. He wouldn’t send them, even at doctors’ or my requests. Finally, my husband went to his office and threatened him with a court order, The office manager managed to come up with about 13 pages of records. For going to him from 1986 to 2001, that doesn’t seem like enough records to me.

I had emailed NIH and they said that they would be “happy” to treat me, but it was long between emails, and it looked like things were moving s-l-o-w-l-y. I had also contacted UVa, but they couldn’t do anything without those records.

Last April, many of us from the message boards went to the UVa Pituitary Days Convention. By chance, we met a wonderful woman named Barbara Craven. She sat at our table for lunch on the last day and, after we learned that she was a dietitian who had had Cushing’s, one of us jokingly asked her if she’d do a guest chat for us. I didn’t follow through on this until she emailed me one day last summer. In the email, she asked how I was doing. Usually, I say “fine” or “ok” but for some reason, I told her exactly how awful I was feeling.

Barbara emailed me back and said I should see a doctor at Johns Hopkins. And I said I didn’t think I could get a recommendation to there, so SHE referred me. The doctor got right back to me, set up an appointment. Between his vacation and mine, that first appointment turned out to be Tuesday, Sept 14, 2004.

Just getting through the maze at Johns Hopkins was amazing. They have the whole system down to a science, moving from one place to another to sign in, then go here, then window 6, then… But it was very efficient.

My new doctor was wonderful. Understanding, knowledgeable. He never once said that I was “too fat” or “depressed” or that all this was my own fault. I feel so validated, finally.

He looked through my records, especially at my 2 previous Insulin Tolerance Tests. From those, he determined that my growth hormone has been low since at least August 2001 and I’ve been adrenal insufficient since at least Fall, 1999 – possibly as much as 10 years! I was amazed to hear all this and astounded that my former endo not only didn’t tell me any of this, he did nothing. He had known both of these things – they were in the past records that I took with me. Perhaps that was why he had been so reluctant to share copies of those records. He had given me Cortef in the fall of 1999 to take just in case I had “stress” and that was it.

The new endo took a lot of blood (no urine!) for cortisol and thyroid stuff. I’m going back on Sept. 28, 2004 for arginine, cortrosyn and IGF testing.

He has said that I will end up on daily cortisone – a “sprinkling” – and some form of GH, based on the testing the 28th.

So, in a couple weeks, I might start feeling better! Wowee!

For those who are interested, my new endo is Roberto Salvatori, M.D.
Assistant Professor of Medicine at Johns Hopkins

Medical School: Catholic University School of Medicine, Rome, Italy
Residency: Montefiore Medical Center
Fellowship: Cornell University, Johns Hopkins University
Board Certification: Endocrinology and Metabolism, Internal Medicine

Clinical Interests: Neuroendocrinology, pituitary disorders, adrenal disorders

Research Interests: Control of growth hormone secretion, genetic causes of growth hormone deficiency, consequences of growth hormone deficiency.

Update October, 2004

I had cortrosyn and arginine-GHRH stimulation test at Johns Hopkins. They confirmed what the doctor learned from reading my 4 year old records – that I’m both adrenal-deficient and growth hormone-deficient. I started on my “sprinkle” (5 mg twice a day) of Cortef now and my new doctor has started the paperwork for GH so maybe I’m on my way…

Yea!!!

It feels weird to be going back on the cortisone after being off for so many years but at this point, I think I’d sell my soul to the devil not to feel the way I’ve been feeling for the last several years.

Update November, 2004

Although I have this wonderful doctor, a specialist in growth hormone deficiency at Johns Hopkins, my insurance company saw fit to over-ride his opinions and his test results based on my past pharmaceutical history! Hello??? How could I have a history of taking GH when I’ve never taken it before?

Of course, I found out late on a Friday afternoon. By then it was too late to call my case worker at the drug company, so we’ll see on Monday what to do about an appeal. My local insurance person is also working on an appeal, but the whole thing sounds like just another long ordeal of finding paperwork, calling people, FedExing stuff, too much work when I just wanted to start feeling better by Thanksgiving. I guess that’s not going to happen, at least by the 2004 one.

As it turns out the insurance company rejected the brand of hGH that was prescribed for me. They gave me the ok for a growth hormone was just FDA-approved for adults on 11/4/04. The day this medication was approved for adults was the day after my insurance said that’s what is preferred for me. In the past, this form of hGH was only approved for children with height issues. Am I going to be a guinea pig again? The new GH company has assigned a rep for me, has submitted info to pharmacy, waiting for insurance approval, again.

Update December 7, 2004

I finally started the Growth Hormone last night – it’s like a rebirth for me. I look forward to having my life back in a few months!

Update January 3, 2005

After a lot of phone calls and paperwork, the insurance company finally came through at the very last minute, just as I needed my second month’s supply. Of course, the pharmacy wouldn’t send it unless they were paid for the first month. They had verbal approval from the insurance, but the actual claim was denied. Talk about a cliff hanger!

Update January 25, 2005

I’ve been on the growth hormone for 7 weeks now, and see no change in my tiredness and fatigue. A couple weeks ago, I thought there was a bit of improvement. I even exercised a little again, but that was short-lived.

I feel like my stomach is getting bigger, and Tom says my face is looking more Cushie again. Maybe from the cortisone I’ve been taking since October. I can’t wait until my next endo appointment in March to increase my GH. I want to feel better already!

Update March 21, 2005

My endo appointment is over. My endo thinks that my weight gain is from the cortisone, as I’d suspected. He cut that amount in half to see if I would stop gaining weight and maybe lose a little. Because of the adrenal insufficiency, I can’t completely stop it, thought. My IGF-1 was “normal” so I can’t increase the GH.

I made a vacation of this trip, though. A friend and I stayed 2 nights in a hotel and had some fun. The hotel had an indoor pool, hot tub, sauna, exercise room, wireless internet access, free shuttles to Johns Hopkins and the Baltimore Inner Harbor. We had a good time for ourselves, so I came home from this endo trip more tired than ever. Over the weekend, I took 7-hour naps on both Saturday and Sunday. Hopefully, that will get better as my body adjusts to the loser dose of Cortef.

Update September, 2005.

My last endo appointment I had lost some weight but not enough. My energy levels are down again, so my endo increased the cortisone slightly. I hope I don’t start gaining again. I don’t see any benefit with the growth hormone.

Update January, 2006.

A new year, a new insurance battle. Once again, they don’t want to pay so I have to go through the whole approval process again. This involves phone calls to Norditropin (the company that makes the GH), my endo, iCore Specialty Pharmacy (the people who prepare and ship the meds) and my insurance company. This is turning into a full-time job!

Update April 14, 2006

I just went to see my endo again on Thursday to see how things are. Although I know how they are – I’m still tired, gaining a little weight, getting some red spots (petechiae) on my midsection. He also noted that I have a “little” buffalo hump again.

My endo appointment is over. Turns out that the arginine test that was done 2 years ago was done incorrectly. The directions were written unclearly and the test run incorrectly, not just for me but for everyone who had this test done there for a couple years. My endo discovered this when he was writing up a research paper and went to the lab to check on something.

So, I’m off GH again for 2 weeks, then I’m supposed to be retested. The “good news” is that the arginine test is only 90 minutes now instead of 3 hours.

Update June 2, 2006: Kidney Cancer (Renal Cell Carcinoma)

Wow, what a nightmare my arginine retest started! I went back for that Thursday, April 27, 2006. Although the test was shorter, I got back to my hotel and just slept and slept. I was so glad that I hadn’t decided to go home after the test.

Friday I felt fine and drove back home, no problem. I picked up my husband for a biopsy and took him to an outpatient surgical center. While I was there waiting for the biopsy to be completed, I started noticing blood in my urine and major abdominal cramps. I left messages for several of my doctors on what I should do. I finally decided to see my PCP after I got my husband home.

When Tom was done with his testing, his doctor took one look at me and asked if I wanted an ambulance. I said no, that I thought I could make it to the emergency room ok – Tom couldn’t drive because of the anesthetic they had given him. I barely made it to the ER and left the car with Tom to park. Tom’s doctor followed us to the ER and became my new doctor.

They took me in pretty fast since I was in so much pain, and had the blood in my urine. They thought it was a kidney stone. After a CT scan, my new doctor said that, yes, I had a kidney stone but it wasn’t the worst of my problems, that I had kidney cancer. Wow, what a surprise that was! I was admitted to that hospital, had more CT scans, MRIs, bone scans, they looked everywhere.

My open radical nephrectomy was May 9, 2006 in another hospital from the one where the initial diagnosis was made. My surgeon felt that he needed a specialist from that hospital because he believed preop that my tumor had invaded into the vena cava because of its appearance on the various scans. Luckily, that was not the case.

My entire left kidney and the encapsulated cancer (10 pounds worth!) were removed, along with my left adrenal gland and some lymph nodes. Although the cancer (renal cell carcinoma AKA RCC) was very close to hemorrhaging, the surgeon believes he got it all. He said I was so lucky. If the surgery had been delayed any longer, the outcome would have been much different. I will be repeating the CT scans every 3 months, just to be sure that there is no cancer hiding anywhere. As it turns out, I can never say I’m cured, just NED (no evidence of disease). This thing can recur at any time, anywhere in my body.

I credit the arginine re-test with somehow aggravating my kidneys and revealing this cancer. Before the test, I had no clue that there was any problem. The arginine test showed that my IGF is still low but due to the kidney cancer I cannot take my growth hormone for another 5 years – so the test was useless anyway, except to hasten this newest diagnosis.

Update August 19, 2006

I’ve been even more tired than usual now that I’m off GH. I can’t take my arthritis meds, or anything like Excedrin (no NSAIDs) so my joints are nearly always bothering me and I have to wait out any headaches. I’m also just getting over a UTI.

I just had my 3 month post-op CT scans and I hope they come out ok. At first I was grateful that I wouldn’t have to have chemo or radiation come to find out that neither has been discovered yet which works well with kidney cancer. Apparently, it can resurface any time for the rest of my life. I’m hoping that some of the chemo clinical trials show some good results so I can get this thing before it metastasizes somewhere.

I’m having trouble sleeping (1:20 AM here, now) although I’m always tired.

Whine, whine!

On the plus side – I survived the kidney cancer surgery, and it’s almost vacation time!

Even vacation will be bittersweet, though. 2 years ago, Sue went with us on vacation. She had a great time and she had asked if she could go with us again this year. Of course, we had said yes…

Update October 26, 2006

I went to see my Johns Hopkins endo again last week. He doesn’t “think” that my cancer was caused by the growth hormone although it may well have encouraged the tumor to grow faster than it would have.

He was happy to see that I had lost 22 pounds since my last 6-month visit. Not all of that was from surgery! He reminded me that I can take more cortisone, but I hate to do that because I gain weight so fast when I take more.

He thought that my blood pressure was low – for me, not for “normal” people. He took my pressure several times, lying down, getting up quickly. But I never got dizzy. Maybe my pressure increase was temporary when the cancer started. All these mysteries I have that no one can answer.

My energy levels are lower than when I was on GH, and they’re lower again because I had the adrenal removed, because of my panhypopit, because of my cancer even though currently NED, it can come back at any time, because of my GH deficiency…

Every day is a challenge getting up, doing something useful, doing something without arthritic pain and weakness, having the energy to finish even something “easy”. I’m starting to get very depressed over all this. If this is the way the rest of my life is going to be, why bother?

People mostly assume that everything is OK with me because I am not getting chemo or radiation and because I look so “healthy” (thanks to the Cushing’s/daily Cortef!). They figure that if there was any real danger of the cancer metastasizing that I would be on chemo, like other cancer patients do. They don’t understand that I have to wait and pray because there are no approved adjuvant treatments. If/when my cancer returns, it’s just more surgery. If I’m “lucky” enough and get to a stage 4 THEN I can have chemo/radiation as a palliative measure.

Update December 2006

According to my PCP my blood pressure is truly low. But can I go off these bp meds? Nope…because I have only one kidney, these would have been prescribed anyway as a support for my kidney. Can’t win!

I am maintaining my weight loss but none of my clothes are loose, I can’t fit in anything smaller. Belly is still there. So the weight loss is just a numbers game.

Update March 2007

I posted this on the message boards in late February but many missed it and are still asking…

Walking Wounded, the sequel! Wow! I guess I haven’t been on the boards for 2 weeks or so. I see that I have dozens of PMs to read, many emails to check/answer and I missed at least one person who had ordered an Awareness Bracelet that I never sent.

My Monday appointment with the surgeon went ok. He took blood/urine and was going to send me for CT scans. That day, as I recall was very cold here with a wind chill of something like -7o

I came home and taught my piano students, as usual.

Tuesday morning I woke up and my back hurt. I assumed it was from the cold combined with my arthritis. That got worse throughout the day so I called my PCP. Naturally, he was away until the 19th but had a substitute I could see Wed. I didn’t want to wait because the pain was excruciating by now and I couldn’t get out of chairs or sofa without using the walker I had from surgery to help pull me up.

So I called my husband at work and he said he’d come home and take me to the ER. I had been supposed to have handbell rehearsal that night so I called my director and let her know I wouldn’t make it. She assumed that Tom (husband) would be home sooner than he was, so she got the associate pastor from my church and they headed to the ER to wait with us.

They asked about me at the front desk and were assured that I was there although they didn’t see me. I guess they thought I was with the triage nurse or something. So they waited. Then a Melissa O’Connor was called… My people realized it wasn’t me and left.

Finally, Tom got home – he had really important work to do (sarcastically said!) and I got to the ER about 6:00PM. Last time I was there, they told me I had kidney cancer, so I was hoping that there was no rerun of that experience!

The triage nurse let me wait on a gurney instead of one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room.

Unfortunately, they also wanted blood and urine. My only good arm had been used by the neurosurgeon the day before. Luckily the nurse finally got the IV in to my other arm. I guess my veins are a bit better post-Cushing’s. No collapses this time.

They did CT scans (so I don’t have to do my surgeon’s ones – YEA!) and XRays and found basically nothing except lung nodules that hadn’t grown much since my last scan – say what? I didn’t know I HAD lung nodules.

I got some percocet and they sent me home with orders to see the sub PCP in 2 days. The percocet didn’t do much except make me sleepy/groggy. My days were spent watching TV and sleeping. Even sitting at the computer or the table was too painful.

Tom took me to the sub PCP on that Friday and she’s sending me to physical therapy.

Until yesterday, I didn’t drive at all, and the weather has been awful, so I haven’t even called about the PT yet.

There is still a little pain, and I need the walker to get out of bed, but I’m doing much better.

A weird side thing – Tom was driving my car since it’s a van and much heavier than his midlife crisis sports car. The van does much better with snow and ice that we had the last couple weeks.

One day he got it home, slammed the door – and the window slid down into the door. Somehow it got off the tracks. Luckily the glass didn’t break. So that was a bit of a problem and $$. No one had ever even heard of this problem before.

Anyway, I hope to get to your PMs, emails and whatever ASAP!

It feels a bit weird being here – like my baby has grown up, left home and doesn’t need me anymore. Can you have Empty Nest Syndrome for message boards? LOL

I have started a new Blog called Cushing’s, Cancer & Music and I plan to keep that updated a little more often than this bio. Rather than the actual events that have taken place, I am letting some of my pent-up feelings out. NOTE: This blog was destroyed by hackers in June 2008 🙁 I don’t know when or if I will ever have the energy to rebuild it. Find the newest blog here: Cushing’s and Cancer Blog

On an Alaskan cruise, June 2007. More about the cruise.

As of the Chicago meeting in July, 2012 I have met 90 members of the message boards (listed as Friends) in addition to Cushies who are NOT on the boards! I have traveled to meet Cushies at NIH in Bethesda, MD, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, New York, Florida, Tennessee, Connecticut, UVa in Southern Virginia and Oregon.

Update October 2018

Well, I haven’t been so great keeping this updated.  I have made other single posts after I went back on Growth Hormone in June, 2017 (Omnitrope this time).   I am posting some of how that’s going here.

No return of cancer (Hooray!)

I’ve developed a new allergy to blackberries

I’ve had a lot of problems with my knees.  This post needs to be updated since I had a cortisone shot in my knee on September 12, 2018 – best thing I ever did, even though my endo was not happy.

Update February 2020

Since then, in 2019, I had 2 more cortisone injections.  They’re only lasting about a week to 10 days now so I figure they’re not worth the potential side effects.  I’ll have one once a year before a big trip or cruise, so the next will be in August of 2020.

I’m still on growth hormone but I don’t see any improvement.  I’m still napping as many hours a day as I can.

The facial hair is still with me and I haven’t lost all the weight, despite 3 days a week of water aerobics (mostly for my knee).

Update February 2021

Not much of an update from last year.  I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not.  Thanks to COVID, we didn’t get to do any “big trip or cruise”.  Our August cruise from last year was rescheduled for August 2021 but it’s already looking like that won’t happen.  It was to go to Alaska and Canada has blocked cruises from sailing through their waters so…

Our son and his wife are due to have their first child in the next week or so but I can’t even go to NYC without quarantining – even though I will be completely vaccinated on March 15.  I’ve had my first Moderna shot, so far.  I wrote about my experiences here and will share how the second one goes when the time comes.

I’m still on Growth Hormone and my endo is saying it will be forever, as will my daily Cortef.  I haven’t had any more cortisone shots because I haven’t been anywhere to warrant them.

Naps and facial hair continue as last year’s update.

This year I have developed a basal cell carcinoma on my nose.  It was removed with liquid nitrogen and it started growing back almost immediately.  At the liquid nitrogen appointment I was told that the next step would most likely be MOHS surgery for a recurrence so I’m gearing up for that fun in March.

Update February 2023

I guess I missed last year.  I had the MOHS surgery and I wrote about it quite extensively here: https://maryomedical.com/2021/05/09/the-mohs-nose/

My current health complain is waiting for a knee replacement.  I got so close and then…setback.  I’m now scheduled for the surgery March 9 but I found out that I need another medical clearance because it’s been more than 30 days.  That will be on March 2.

Update February 2025

I had that left knee replacement on March 9, 2023 and my second knee on February 3, 2025.  I found out after the second total knee replacement that I’m allergic to the glue in the bandage, the injected knee block, the replacement itself, the cement used… It’s going to be interesting figuring this out.  Meanwhile, I have a major rash and I itch!

See you next year!

 

I was so stupid way back in 1987 when I thought that all my troubles would be over when my pituitary surgery was over.

And so I wait…


Cushings-Help.com, and quotes from MaryO was included in the Cover Story of this issue of FORBESMagazine, BEST OF THE WEB Issue. The title: “Use With Care” by Matthew Schifrin and Howard Wolinsky.

Hopefully, this kind of mainstream exposure will help increase awareness for this often misunderstood disease. Read the article here.

GoldenOldie – MaryO/COVID Vaccine 1

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Quick takeaway: I have adrenal insufficiency (one adrenal was removed with my kidney due to cancer, steroid-dependent (post-Cushing’s Disease), growth hormone insufficiency, panhypopituitary.  I had some issues after my first COVID-19 injection (Moderna) but not too bad.  My second injection will be March 15.


January 12, 2021 my Mom’s doctor called and offered her the vaccine but she didn’t want it. She said she didn’t go anywhere.  True but my DH and I do – and she has a friend visit once a month.  I joked to a friend that I could put on a wig and go as her since we have the same first name.

I have been doing the COVID-19 Patient Monitoring System through my doctor’s office since it was first offered.  Just a few boxes of how I’m feeling, if I wore a mask and so on.  I am a strong believer in helping to participate in medical trials, as I mention below.  This one is very easy and takes about a minute out of my day.  Easy-peasy.

I’ve been on the Fairfax Waiting List since January 19, 2021.  As of right now, they are still scheduling people from January 18 – I read somewhere that 41,000-some people registered on the 18th, so it may be a while to get to my date.  They have set up an interesting dashboard to track how things are going  https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/health/novel-coronavirus/vaccine/data

I got a link from a friend when CVS opened up clinics in my state – https://www.cvs.com/vaccine/intake/store/covid-screener/covid-qns

I kept the CVS link open and checked it every morning.  Everything was full until Saturday, February 13.  I was able to register at about 5 am.  When I went back about 20 minutes later, everything was gone.

 

CVS sent out an informative email with directions, dates, ics file to easily add to calendar,

On the day of your appointment:

•Please arrive early enough to check in before your scheduled appointment. Arriving late for your appointment may result in an extended wait time.

•Bring your ID and insurance card, voucher or other coverage

•Don’t forget a face covering—wearing it throughout your visit is required

•When you arrive, please check in at the pharmacy area inside the store or follow the signs for the COVID-19 vaccine

CVS tips for vaccine shots:

•Wearing short sleeves makes getting a shot easier and faster

•If you must wear long sleeves, dress in layers with the short sleeves underneath

Review the patient fact sheet about the specific vaccine you are receiving

What to do if you feel sick or have COVID-19 symptoms:

•Contact your health care provider immediately

•If your provider recommends it, get tested for COVID-19

Cancel your appointment

•Don’t come to the pharmacy

•Schedule a new appointment when you’re well

After your vaccine:

•Be prepared to stay for 15 to 30 minutes after the COVID-19 vaccination so you can be observed for side effects.

•If you experience side effects from your COVID-19 vaccine dose, you may find some guidance at Coronavirus: Vaccine, Prevention Tips & FAQs

•The CDC has created a way for you to report how you feel after the COVID-19 vaccination through a smartphone-based tool that uses text messaging and web surveys to check in with you. Learn about v-safe and sign up today.

And a short survey, which I took – just add up to 5 stars and write a short paragraph.

Monday, February 15, 2021: When I got to CVS, I found that everything was very well run.

I got a text from CVS asking me to click a link when I arrived at 3:30 and it gave me directions on where to go.

I was met by someone at door who checked my name – I showed him my phone screen – he showed me where to walk following arrows on floor.  Then I was met by so someone who checked my name and he asked if I had done the texting thing (yes!).

There were 4 people ahead of me that I could see.  It went very fast.  I was in the little room within less than 10 minutes.

The nurse asked if left arm was ok to use.

She told me to treat the little quarantine form like gold.  Take a picture on my phone, just in case.  Maybe laminate after second shot.  Keep it with passport.

She said that old folks (like me!) didn’t have as many issues after second shot.

The shot was very fast – I never felt it.

The nurse said if I get a headache, take Tylenol only.  I said that was all I could take anyway because I have only one kidney.

I sat in the waiting area for 15 minutes to be sure there were no problems  There were about 10 or so people sitting around the store that I could see at various stages of their 15 minutes.

I was glad to see that it was Moderna (MRNA) although I would have taken either.  I have a long-standing issue with the other drug company, unrelated to COVID vaccines.

I posted on FB that I had done my first injection and a friend told me about registering at vsafe.cdc.gov for them to keep track of me after the vaccination.  I signed up for that right away – and I noticed that CVS had also given me that link.

About 12 hours later (3:30 am) I got up to go to the bathroom and noticed that my arm was a little sore. No biggie.

Tuesday, February 16, 2021:  I just got my first dose of Moderna yesterday – sore arm, so far.

The nurse told me yesterday that older people like myself (I’m 72) had fewer side effects since we had been exposed to more things over the years.  I’m not sure how accurate that is but I’ll hold on to that hope until I get my second dose on March 15!

Wednesday, February 17, 2021:  I had weird dreams overnight but I got up about 4:00 am.  I did some work and fell back asleep until 10:15.

We didn’t go to water exercise. I decided at the very last minute, walking out the door. Reaction to Monday shot?  I had a little headache, dizzy, congested, very tired.  I should have taken more cortisone at this time but didn’t remember until 8:30 pm.

I slept more until about 2 pm and had very weird dreams – I don’t know if the dreams are part of it or not but I reported them to the safe.cdc.gov questionnaire.

I cancelled piano lessons for the day.  I wrote to my students:

I am so sorry but I need to cancel today’s lesson.  I had the first COVID vaccination on Monday afternoon.  I was feeling fine yesterday so I assumed that I wasn’t going to have any side effects but they caught up with me today.  It’s just a headache , a bit of congestion and fatigue (I’ve been sleeping all day so far) but I don’t think I would be at my best during XXX’s lesson.

See you next week…

After cancelling lessons, I went back to sleep until time for Pender’s 7 pm Ash Wednesday service.  I was felling cold but I don’t know if it was chills or really a cold.  I started coughing a little.

At night, I remembered I should have up-dosed. I told my DH that night if he ever noticed me like this again, it was the perfect time to tell me to stress dose.  It never occurred to me during the day.

At that point, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.  I had dinner (I was surprised that I could eat it) at 9:25 and did my growth hormone injection.

I went to bed at 11 p.

Thursday, February 18, 2021: I’m a little more tired than usual but ok.  I spent time napping and working alternated through the day.

Friday, February 19, 2021: Just the normal tiredness.  Hooray!


Info below from https://medshadow.org/covid19-vaccine-side-effects/  I’ve had the bold ones so far after the first injection.

Moderna

Moderna started Phase III clinical trials for its vaccine candidate in July. In earlier trials, nearly half of patients experienced common adverse effects like injection site pain, rash, headaches, muscle soreness, nausea and fevers after the second injection. These effects generally subsided within two days. CNBC spoke to a few individuals, some participating in Moderna’s trial and some in Pfizer’s trial who said much the same thing: the side effects were intense and included a high fever, body aches, bad headaches and exhaustion, but were worth it for protection from Covid-19.

In the FDA report published in December, the most common side effects were pain at injection site (91.6% of patients), fatigue (68.5%), headache (63.0%), muscle pain (59.6%), joint pain (44.8%), and chills (43.4%). Three patients experienced Bell’s Palsy, a sudden, and usually temporary, weakening or paralysis of the facial muscles.

A few patients with facial fillers experienced swelling after receiving the vaccine. They were treated with antihistamines and steroids. In California, officials halted the use of one particular batch of Moderna vaccines (lot 41L20A) after a small cluster (fewer than 10) of patients at one particular site experienced allergic reactions that required medical attention.

Out of the first 7.5 million doses administered from Dec 14- Jan 18, 19 cases of anaphylaxis were reported to VAERS after the Moderna vaccine. No patients have died from anaphylaxis. Patients are now being monitored for 15-30 minutes after receiving the vaccine to watch for signs of anaphylaxis.

Many patients are reporting injection site reactions that show up shortly after the injection or up to a week later. These reactions — which are characterized by swelling, redness, itching, rashes, heat and pain — are expected to last a day to a week. Physicians emphasize that while these effects can be scary, they are not dangerous and should not prevent someone from getting the second shot. So far, doctors do not report seeing these reactions after the second shot, however so few have been given so far that scientists are not sure how common it will be on round two.

The CDC reports that 11% of patients experienced swollen lymph nodes after the first shot. That raised to 16% after the second shot.

A study posted on Feb 1 showed that patients who received the vaccine after having been previously infected with COVID-19 showed greater immune response to the first shot and more intense side effects that are associated with strong immune responses like fever and muscle aches. The study included patients who received either the Moderna or Pfizer vaccine. Some scientists believe these patients may only need a single shot to provide sufficient immunity, but more research is needed.

Moderna has announced that it will begin testing its vaccine in children and adolescents, who they believe may have stronger immune responses, leading to more intense side effects.

This page has information about the other brands of vaccine: https://fairfaxcountyemergency.wpcomstaging.com/2021/02/16/what-you-need-to-know-when-you-get-vaccinated-and-after-you-get-vaccinated/

Carlin, Recovered from Pituitary Tumor

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I’m 66 yo and have recovered from Cushings but now take hydrocortisone, thyroxine, ddavp and citalopram. It’s was a real fight to find a dr who believed me. (my GP said I was a morbidly obese hypochondriac).

It has been 16 years and I’ve lost 75 pounds. Sometimes life is still tough, but I can handle it.

My endocrinologist was Dr Katznelson at Stanford University Palo Alto CA and my surgeon was Edward Laws.

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Janice (Not So Cushie), Installment 4 of When Angels Knock

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Read Installment 1 here

Read Installment 2 here

Read Installment 3 here


4th installment of

WHEN ANGELS KNOCK

by

Janice Barrett

 

                        CHAPTER 2

     By late afternoon, I am taken out of lockdown and put into room 206, a semi-private room in the mental ward of the hospital. It looks like any other room in any hospital. I have no roommate and don’t like being isolated; it gives me more time to wonder about my wacko behaviour, speculating about whether mom’s disease is inherited. I have my mother’s colouring but my father’s features.  

     Alone in the room, alone in my thoughts, knowing what sent me other the edge, wondering what is happening to my life, I’m startled by a rap on the door. A nurse pokes her head into my room, “The Psychiatrist would like to see you. Follow me,” she says.

     I tag along watching her back not really paying attention to where I am going. There is no nameplate on the door we enter. It’s a stark office with a desk, three chairs and no personal family photographs, books or certificates. Nothing to signal ownership. A white-coated doctor sits behind a desk and looks at me, then drops his pen on his pad. He says thank you to the nurse who leaves, closing the door behind her. 

     He motions to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

     He is dark skinned and I wonder what nationality he is. Looking at his name badge doesn’t help. There is no way I can pronounce that name.

     “Do you have no any concerns?” he asks.

     I’m sure I must have looked at him shocked. Between his heavy accent and his words, I can’t understand what he’s said. And he’s looking at me like I’m slow, because he says again almost irritated, “Do you have no any concerns?”

     A few more now. They’re growing by the minute. Of course I’m concerned, I’m in a mental ward. Is that a question? How am I to answer that? It’s too general. I need a specific question; concerns about what? About my hospital stay, the room, the nurses, about my life and what part of it? 

     “I think I am paranoid schizophrenic like my mother.”

     There I did it. That’s a legitimate concern. Maybe it will be all right after all.

     “No any paranoid person would walk in my office and articulate that. They would try to hide it and that was the one thing you say first. So you no any paranoid.”

     Oh My God, I think I understand him. I don’t know if that makes things better or worse. And think of the eye doctor when he’s examining your eyes and asks better or worse and when it gets to that point where you just aren’t sure; that’s where I am. But his words are a relief. I’m not schizophrenic. I had worried for years that I would be like my mother. I trust what he says as truth. 

     The Psychiatrist picks up his pen again. “Do you know why you are here?”

     “I went crazy.”

     “You remember?”

     “Yes.”

     “What number medications did you take?”

     “Medications? I don’t know what you mean.”

     And then I recognize Bob’s gym bag on the corner of his desk. He stands up to place the bag between us on the desk.

     “You recognize this?” he asks.

     “Yes, it’s my husband Bob’s gym bag.”

     The Psychiatrist opens the bag. “Your husband find medications. Did you buy?”

     “Yes. They’re vitamin pills.”

      “They are 37 medications.” 

     When the vitamin pills are scattered between three bathrooms and kitchen cupboards, it doesn’t seem a lot until you see them dumped in one bag. Most of these bottles have been kicking around our house for years and are long expired, but getting rid of them is a hassle. You can’t flush them down the toilet or put them in the garbage. I always forget about them on hazardous waste day when I get rid of my paint cans.

     It’s a bag of failure, a multitude of good intentions, inspired by doctors on television, or magazine articles over the past ten years to eat right, exercise and supplement with vitamins. A reminder that, I can’t stick with any program.   

     The Psychiatrist stares into this bag without examining the bottles. He doesn’t even put his hand in the bag to move them around. He sits forward in his chair, looking at me, expecting me to come up with some revelation of some kind. They are frigging vitamin pills. What does he want from me? Yeah there are a bunch, but many of the newer bottles only have a few pills out of them, because when they make my stomach bloat, I stop taking them and try and find other ones which my body can tolerate. He looks at them as some kind of evidence; for what I can’t imagine.       

     “What number medications you take from the bag?”

     “I am not on any prescribed medications from my doctor. I took vitamin A, C, D, E, and the two homeopath liquids my Chiropractor gave me, a liver-detox and lymph something drops.”

     “Here 37 bottles your husband find and put in bag. You take each?”

     “No. Four vitamins and the homeopath stuff.”

     “How you are feeling now?”

     “There’s something physically wrong with me. It’s really serious. Whatever this thing is I have, it’s weird. I’m weak and my stomach bloats up huge.”

     The Psychiatrist lays his pen down, falling back into his chair.

     “I feel like I’m going to collapse, am weak all over and get tired out fast. My head is in a fog and I get confused with pressure in my head. Sometimes my words get mixed up and my eyes are gummy and blurry.”

     He stops looking at me, his eyes roaming the ceiling, his arms crossed. This Psychiatrist is just like my family doctor, Dr. Smith. Just like this Psychiatrist, Dr. Smith won’t even acknowledge that there’s something physically wrong with me. He looks at me like I’m fat and lazy. Like I won’t help myself by dieting and exercise.

     If it weren’t for Nurse Hill, I wouldn’t know what’s wrong with me. She’s the only one who listens and believes me.

                             ***   

     I’m at Dr. Smith’s office so much, I don’t even bother sorting through the magazines. I’ve read them all. Nurse Hill calls my name and takes me to a room she works out of.

     “Dr. Smith is on holidays so you will be seeing a locum doctor,” she says.

     I wonder what kind of a doctor that is; locum at least it isn’t “loco,” but I never question, it isn’t my nature.

     The nurse does the usual blood pressure and temperature.    

     “So how are you feeling?”

     “I’m really sick but I have so many weird symptoms.”

     “Like?” Nurse Hill takes out pen and paper and lists them as I speak. She believes what I’m telling her! I don’t have to convince her I’m sick. I can relax, reassured that she’ll help me.

     Without any hesitation, she says, “This sounds like Cushing’s Disease.”

     She taps diligently on her computer keyboard until the screen displays large letters reading: “Cushing’s Disease and Syndrome. “Yes, you have almost all the symptoms listed here. I’m going to recommend blood work be done to investigate this. The locum doctor will be in shortly,” and she leaves.

     I let out a big sigh. That it could be so easy after all these horrible months of suffering. Back and forth numerous times complaining about these same symptoms, with Dr. Smith dismissing them and me over and over again.

     I wait, hopeful. The locum doctor sits down. He examines me and questions me further and writes out a requisition form for me to take to the lab to have blood work done at eight AM, precisely.

     I’m the first one in line at the lab the next morning. It’s a quick procedure and I am out the door in no time and back home. I check many websites on the internet about Cushing’s disease. The more I read about it, the more certain I am I have it. These sites are describing what is happening to my body.

                            ***

     And now here I am stuck in this hospital when I need to follow up on the blood work results. 

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Donelle T, Pituitary Bio

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Donelle Trotman was only in his 30s when his health suddenly took a strange and frightening turn.

He was rapidly gaining weight — more than 100 pounds in one year. His upper torso was getting bigger, but not his legs. And he felt overwhelmingly tired.

“My body just started changing,” the Staten Island, New York, native told TODAY as part of a three-day series, “Medical Mysteries,” looking at people who have recovered from rare diseases.

It was especially puzzling because Trotman had never had weight issues before.

In school, Trotman was never a skinny kid, but he wasn’t overweight. He loved sports, playing both basketball and baseball.

So as he entered adulthood, he was active and in good shape. Then, three years ago, he suddenly began to gain weight.

“It was just specific places: My stomach, under my arms, my back of my neck, my face, the bottom of my back,” Trotman said. “My legs stayed the same for a long time.”

To lose the extra pounds, Trotman began running, working out and lifting weights. Nothing worked.

In the span of one year, Trotman gained more than 120 pounds, topping the scale at 366 pounds, twice the amount he weighed at 18.

“I doubled, like, I got a whole person on me,” he said.

There were other alarming changes. Trotman became so easily tired that he’d get out of breath just by chewing food. When he woke up seeing double three months ago, he knew it was time to go to the hospital.

Doctors ran a flurry of tests, but the results offered few clues, leaving everyone puzzled. Then one day, an intern noticed stretch marks all over Trotman’s body, a telltale sign that solved the mystery. Trotman had Cushing’s disease, a rare condition that affects fewer than 50,000 people in the U.S. every year.

Trotman’s weight gain was being caused by a tiny tumor at the base of his brain, prompting his body to produce too much of the hormone cortisol. He had some of the classic symptoms: major weight gain in his upper body, skin problems and acne, plus fatigue.

Dr. John Boockvar and Dr. Peter Costantino at New York’s Lenox Hill Hospital discovered Trotman had steroid levels ten times higher than normal.

“In Cushing’s disease, the pituitary gland has a small growth that releases a single hormone that causes the body to live with very high levels of steroids. The skin becomes very thin. You get increased acne. You can grow hair. You start sweating. You gain a lot of fat,” Boockvar said.

There was no time to lose: Untreated, Cushing’s is a fatal disease. Trotman was getting close to the point where doctors would not be able to reverse the changes, Costantino noted. He underwent surgery two weeks ago and had the growth successfully removed.

“The tumor was no bigger than the size of the tip of my pen,” Boockvar said. “And that something so small can cause a man to grow to 350 pounds and absolutely destroy his life is rather remarkable.”

These days, Trotman is feeling much better. His main focus now is to lose the weight he gained and regain an active lifestyle. He hopes to play basketball with his son soon.

“It’s wonderful. Every day it’s just like I feel a little stronger,” he said.

Doctors say Trotman will continue to lose weight and can shoot hoops with his son in about three months. There is an 8-10 percent chance the disease could come back, but Trotman said he knows what to look for now.

One of the reasons Trotman wanted to share his story is so others might recognize the symptoms of Cushing’s, although doctors stress it is a very rare illness.

From http://www.today.com/health/after-gaining-120-pounds-1-year-rare-diagnosis-saves-mans-t6561

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Janice (Not So Cushie), Upcoming Book, Installment 3

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Read Installment 1 here

Read Installment 2 here


3rd Installment of

WHEN ANGELS KNOCK

 

Dad’s face is twisted in pain. He can’t face the way mom is: the anger and hate she heaps on him. The fear we live with crushes his mild spirit. Dad who could never say anything negative about anyone, pretends life hasn’t changed, mom hasn’t changed and takes comfort in routine.

     “You have to drive Mom to Goderich Mental Institute tomorrow. They’re expecting her. Here’s the address and call the doctor.” I shove my notes at him.    

     The next day, Mom is angry, but gets into the car without a fight. It’s a long, quiet ride until we drive by the ‘Welcome to Goderich’ sign. Then mom says, “You can’t lock me up. I’m not going. Why do you hate me? How will you manage without me? You don’t know how to pay the bills, collect the rent, make meals, do laundry. You can’t do anything without me.”

     She’s right. Mom’s the one who looks after us and is business savvy. She’s the one who made the decision to move here. She chose the house. It’s a large flat in downtown Stratford above a parts distribution company. She bought the building so we can get the rent from the business to offset the mortgage. Mom maybe mentally ill, but she is still business savvy and unbeatable at bridge, even though we think she cheats; we can’t catch her.

     “Why don’t you tell me off?” Mom screams. “Take charge for once in your life. Be a man! Tell me off!”

     There’s a pleading quality to her voice. Then she leans forward from the back seat poking her head between us in the front. Her high pitch shrill fills the car, “Tell me to shut up.”

     “Shut up,” Dad yells.

     It’s the first time I have ever heard him raise his voice.

     And Mom falls back in her seat laughing then crying, relieved that maybe this time he will take charge.

     Four months later, we travel this road again to pick mom up and bring her home. We are heading out the double-door exit when mom says, “I don’t know what the doctors will do without me. I confer with them on every case. They rely on my judgment.”

     I look at Dad and say, “We’re taking her out like this?”

     Dad won’t look at me. He keeps walking, head down, holding mom’s hand.

     Once home, living our pretend lives for the neighbours, mom curbs her physical violence with cruel, hurtful remarks. Her verbal attacks can last for an hour or more. I plead with Dad to make her stop, but he always answers with, “It’s the illness, it’s not your mother.”

     Like that somehow makes it right when she screams at me,  “No one will ever love you.”

   For the next two years, Mom hasn’t shown any signs of violence and I find myself wondering if she really is schizophrenic. When Mom finds out my boyfriend Bob has proposed to me a couple of times, she makes plans to move to Kitchener to break us up.

     Dad of course agrees to the move, but is surprised when once in our new home, mom kicks him out. With only the two of us in the house, mom no longer has to be on guard. Over time, she learns how to break me down, make me cower. I am the one who sent her away. I am the one who has to be punished.

     “There are only two people in this world I hate and that’s you and your father. But I hate you more because you were the one who sent me away. I hate you.” Her spittle flicks onto my skin. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

     She knows how to push me into a corner without ever touching me. Making me back away from her and her vicious words, cringing until my back hits the wall with no escape. I can’t retaliate with hurtful words or even the truth because it gets too scary when I push back.

     This goes on for months on end. She’s right. I’m to blame for sending her to that place which didn’t help her and now there are two of us who are broken. Because I never want to be in charge ever again. I will never make decisions where things will be my fault. I will be a follower. Broken. Indecisive. Afraid.

     Eighteen and in grade thirteen, I dread going home after school and work. I try being invisible, tip toeing around, avoiding any kind of interaction. I can’t sleep, her words torment me. Even alone in bed at night, I tremble, my body twitching for hours with me unable to control it, afraid that her demons will get me while I sleep.

     I get up to get a glass of milk. The glass shakes so bad in my hand, I can’t drink from it and put it down when I hear a quiet knock at the kitchen door. I don’t know why I’m not afraid to open the door. It’s late.

     Bob is there. I can’t stop trembling when I tell him what’s happening. He is the only one who cares about me.

     “You can’t live like this anymore,” he says taking charge, confident and controlling. The opposite of my Dad. Bob is the person, I wish my Dad was.

     “We’re getting married,” Bob says.

     My White Knight, my hero rescuing me from this life to give me a happily ever after.     

     The crackly voice interrupts the music again, “Code White, Code White.”

                              ***

     Something so scary happening that they have to use a code to bring nurses and security guards on the run.    

     Shifting in bed, tugging at the blue gown to close the gap at the back, I feel the poetic justice of it all. My mother, forty-years later, finding a way to punish me from the grave, for sending her to the asylum, to make me crazy like her.

 

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Deva, Pituitary Bio

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From the February, 2022 issue of Reader’s Digest:

 

readers-digest.jpg

 

Read the original article at readers-digest-misdiagnosed

 

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Janice (Not So Cushie), Upcoming Book, Installment 2

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Read Installment 1 here


WHEN ANGELS KNOCK

by

Janice Barrett

     I can’t fight back, have no breath to plead. She pulls out a butcher knife. The one we use at Christmas and Thanksgiving to carve every turkey. The wide 16 inch blade looks more like a guillotine above my head and I know mom’s hand is positioned for that kind of thrust.

     I look away, waiting for the blow I know will come and see my 11- year-old neighbour’s face pressed against our glass front door, Girl Guide cookies in her hand, eyes wide.

     “Run. Get out!” I yell.

     She’s frozen like me.

     “Get out now,” I bellow louder.

     Startled, my mother puts the knife down just as the cookies hit the cement front stoop and my neighbour disappears from view.

     Mom sits at the kitchen table with pen and paper. “What’s happening to me? What am I doing? There’s something wrong with me,” she says. Mom mumbles symptoms to herself, scribbling them on the page. As the list grows longer, mom becomes more agitated until she crumples the paper up and throws it. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she screams.

     I run out of the house, down four blocks to the doctor’s office, burst through the door and say, “I need to see the doctor.”

     “Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asks.

     “No.”

     “Take a seat.”

     I can’t sit. I pace back and forth in the crowded waiting area. I stay quiet while another name is called, and a man follows the nurse down a hallway.

     My body shakes and my head vibrates until the man comes out, and then I scream at the nurse, “I have to see the doctor.”       

     “What’s wrong?”

     “My mother tried to kill me.”

     The nurse leads me into the doctor’s office. I relate my story to the doctor who advises me that mom is paranoid schizophrenic and warns me that in her present condition she may be suicidal. He reassures me that at the end of the day he will stop by my house to examine my mother.

     Fearing for Mom’s safety, I run back home to check on her. She is sitting beside the record player, smiling her big-toothed grin with Elvis stuttering, the lyrics caught in the scratches on the vinyl. Mom not noticing. Mom stuck in her own groove trying to block out her voices.

     Afraid that Mom will overhear me on the phone, I leave to find a phone booth and call Dad’s office in Kitchener, a 40 minute drive from our home in Stratford. It is two hours before the office will close. I am told he is out for the day. He left no contact number where he can be reached. There’s no one to call. I don’t know why we had to move here away from family and friends. 

     And I’m not calling my sister Jackie at university. She’ll want to come home. One of us needs to escape this life. Dad’s no help. It’s up to me.

     I’m relieved when the doctor finally arrives to examine my mother.

     “Can’t you turn that off,” the doctor motions to the record player while Elvis stutters.

     “It helps keep her calm.” My words breathy, pushing past the overwhelming emotion of letting go of the responsibility to have someone else in charge. Relief at last.

     He moves his stethoscope over mom’s back. “At least change the record.”

     I welcome the excuse to walk away. I pull the record stand over by the couch and sit down. It would have been easier to sit in mom’s chair to sort through the records, but I won’t sit in her chair doing what she does, afraid that it will turn me into her.

     They are talking in quiet tones. Mom almost whispering her answers. I can breath again. I don’t care what they’re saying. He’s taking over, so I don’t have to be in charge any more.      

     When the doctor finishes, he sends mom over to her chair by the record player. I put on The Beatles “Hey Jude” another one of her favourites. The lyrics, ”to make it better,” vibrating through my body while I walk to the dining room table. The doctor is talking to me, but it’s the Beatles I hear singing better, better, better. The sound escalating better, better, better and I’m afraid to hope.

     “Where’s your father?

     “I don’t know.”

     “When does he usually get home?”

     “Not until late. Not until mom goes to bed.”

     We discuss the need for her to be hospitalized.

     “She is paranoid schizophrenic,” he says and advises me which mental asylum she will be put into and the procedures he will implement. I take notes to relay the information to my Dad when he shows up.

     “How old are you?” he asks.

     “Sixteen.”

     “Do you have any relatives or adults that can stay with you here until your father gets home?”

     “No. There’s no one. We just moved here.”

     The doctor speaks to me like an adult and all of the decisions are made by the two of us. He writes his phone number on a prescription pad, rips it off and hands it to me.

     “Have your father call me when he gets in,” he says. “If anything else happens before he gets home, get out of the house and call me.”

     “Thanks,” I say, watching him walk out the front door.        

     Dad gets home at 11pm.

     “Where were you?” I ask. “I called all over.”

     “I had to go vote. It’s election day.”

     “You left me by myself when you knew this was the worst mom has ever been. You didn’t even leave a number where I could reach you.” I glared at him in silence until he looked down at his scuffed oxford shoes.

    “I had an obligation to vote,” he says.

     “What about me?” I yelled. “You have an obligation to make sure I’m safe.”

     “It’s my civic duty to vote.”

     His words knock the fight out of me. How can I argue my life is more important than voting? Why would I need to? Why can’t he see? I can’t hear the lame excuses that are more important than me. It will hurt too much.

 

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Janice (Not So Cushie), Upcoming Book, Installment 1

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Janice writes: I have written a memoir about my experiences with Cushing’s Disease. An agent is interested in it but says I have to have a platform before she will represent me. So I need a following. I want this book to get out to show people the effects of Cushing’s in our lives and to help the families going through this to better help and understand the person suffering with this disease. In the book I mention this site. Unfortunately I found it after I already had the pit surgery.  I have also written a play based on my memoir. I am on a mission to inform people of this disease.


 

I will be adding to this post on Wednesday, Friday and Monday for people who wish to follow me.

The following is an excerpt from my memoir which is about Mary O’s site and the people on it.

“Looking up medical references, I find a Cushing’s help and support internet site, founded by Mary O with over 6,000 members world wide. Story after story all screaming the same thing: believe me, listen to me, I’m sick. Doctors telling them to diet and exercise or that this is such a rare disease they can’t possibly have it. Excuses to dismiss us. It isn’t that the doctors don’t have the knowledge, they won’t believe us. So many, too many, my story isn’t unique. I am the rule and not the exception. I have to make people believe us and so I write.

WHEN ANGELS KNOCK

By

Janice Barrett

I wake up aware that I’m on display. There are no tracks in the ceiling for curtains to be drawn around my bed like most hospitals. I want to stick my thumbs into my ears and wiggle my fingers saying, “booga booga,” but know this is not the place or time. These people will not have a sense of humour. The white ceiling melts into bare white walls oozing an antiseptic smell. I know why I’m here. I went crazy. I felt the snap.

A crackly voice over a speaker announces, “Code White.”

I’m thirsty, but beside my bed the water bottle is empty.

“Code White.”

Built into the room is an office with a glass partition  where a nurse is standing. The mattress crinkles like plastic under the sheet when I roll out of the single bed, in a row of single beds. Walking up to the window, without saying anything, I slide my empty bottle through a circular hole in the middle of the glass and she, without saying anything, passes a full bottle back to me. I saw this once in a movie and I know I’m in lockdown. She is Nurse Ratched and I’m in my own sequel to “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.”

I don’t want to be crazy like my mother. Death was her escape. I don’t want my children to live with the on-edge fear I did. Afraid that something they will do or say will trigger a psychotic episode and make them feel responsible.

“Code White.”

Music replaces the crackly voice, and I think of mom’s favourite song and her sitting beside the record player for hours on end with me hoping I’m safe. I lived in that world of “if only” for too long.

If only I hadn’t wanted toast.

***

I was safe at high school when my name was called after the morning announcements to come down to the Principal’s office. Dad was there. He said mom isn’t “feeling well.” I hate those words, his code words for scary psychotic. And I have to go home to look after her.

Mom looks okay, hair and make-up done to perfection, listening to Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas.” But I never know when they will come, the voices in her head.

As long as the record plays, I’m safe. It’s her distraction from the voices. Five hours and still when the needle lifts off the vinyl, mom’s hand reaches across to replace it again.

I keep mom in sight in the livingroom when I go to the kitchen to make toast. The wooden door on the breadbox hangs lopsided, the hinges pulled out from the wood, the handle broken, a thin post lying on the countertop. Mom is watching me. I pretend I don’t notice the breadbox hoping then she won’t react.

The needle scratches across Elvis’s lyrics, and I’m sorry that I wanted toast.

She bolts out of her chair and I freeze when I see her hazel eyes bright with her demons.

“He’s coming back to kill me. The breadbox slammed down three times to warn me that your dad is going to kill me with a gun or knife,” Mom says. “Please don’t leave me. Your dad manipulates people, he controls them,” she screams.

The cords in her neck protrude and her lips stretch to a thin line to spit out her phobia. “We’re his puppets. He’s pulling the strings making us do things.

Hate etches her skin, pinching her nose, turning her hazel eyes into green, glowering slits. Numbed by fear, I can’t move, can’t speak, my body vibrating.

Mom’s hands are on my shoulder shaking me to make me understand her terror. Her fingers kneeding into my skin, nails digging viciously when she throws me up against the kitchen cupboard. My head pounds the wood and I hear a small crack before she slams my numb body against a cabinet shrieking, “You control people too. Who do you control? I want their names.”

I try to get away, but she thrusts me back, a pull handle on a drawer jabbing into my hip.

“Give me the names,” she yells, and hurls me backward onto the countertop. I gasp, gulping for air when she hammers her arm down across my chest. Her arm, a metal bar, that holds me down, while her boney elbow scores into my ribs. Her eyes are as terrified as mine. Her weight crushes me as she opens the knife drawer by my left hip. The sound of metal blades clang while Elvis croons, “without you.” And I am frozen.

 

Stay tuned for the next installment.

 

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Lydia, Pituitary Bio

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Lydia, a 28-year-old Florida resident, wife, and mother of two, first noticed a drastic increase in her weight around Easter of 2022 in a family photo. She was shocked by how different she looked despite not making any drastic changes to her diet. “While those I loved would say ‘you look beautiful’, to me I looked like a completely different person,” recalled Lydia.

When Lydia asked her mother, Jeanne, if she had noticed her weight gain, her mother observed that some days Lydia’s face looked swollen. They both recognized that this was not normal, and decided, like many pituitary patients, to make an appointment with a primary care provider. “I remember her saying to me ‘something is wrong with me’ and ‘something is not right’”, recalled Jeanne.

Lydia’s weight gain was most noticeable in her face and around her abdomen. “She was exercising all the time and trying to watch what she ate and cut down on sugars,” said Jeanne. “But she kept putting on more weight. We knew something was not right.”

Lydia scheduled the first of what would be many doctor appointments hoping for answers. Her primary care provider recognized that her rapid weight gain was abnormal and ordered standard blood work. When that blood work came back normal, her doctor referred her to an endocrinologist and to her OBGYN.

In addition to her weight gain, Lydia had begun developing other symptoms including excessive sweating day and night, severe acne, hair loss, hair gain on her face, insomnia, thin skin, and brittle nails. “The worst symptom was the constant feeling of fight or flight,” recalled Lydia. “I always felt on edge and was letting things bother me.” Lydia would later learn that this feeling was caused by the drastic increase of cortisol in her body.

When Lydia first met with her OBGYN to address her weight gain and the overall feeling that something was wrong with her body, her concerns were quickly dismissed. “He told me ‘You’re almost 30 and you’ve had two kids, no wonder you feel the way that you do,’” said Lydia. “He blew me off and told me that I needed more diet and exercise. He didn’t order other tests.”

Pituitary Tumor Symptoms - UNC Health Department of Neurosurgery
Figure illustrates the drastic physical changes and symptoms caused by a pituitary tumor and Cushing’s disease. (Medical illustration by Mark Schornak, MS, CMI)

A couple of months later, Lydia went to see an endocrinologist. Despite watching her calories and exercising almost every day of the week, she had gained more weight and felt more miserable. When her labs came back, Lydia’s cortisol levels were so high that the endocrinologist thought there had been a lab error. A 24-hour urine test confirmed that Lydia’s cortisol levels were off the charts. “I was in full panic mode at this point,” said Lydia.

Lydia could not get back in to see her endocrinologist in a timely manner, so she ended up back at her primary care provider’s office. Her primary care provider suggested that it could be a tumor on her adrenal glands and that it was probably not in her brain since she was not experiencing headaches. A CT scan of the adrenal glands came back clean. “I remember telling my primary care doctor ‘I just don’t feel normal’”, recalls Lydia. “His response was ‘everyone’s normal is different’ and I told him ‘I’m not normal for me.’”

At this point, Lydia was desperate for answers. “All these doctors were telling me it could be in my head or because I was almost 30,” said Lydia. “I kept getting shut down. I told friends and family that there was something seriously wrong with me and no one was believing me.”

Finally, a friend sent Lydia information on another endocrinologist in Florida. “He was the first doctor to care about me,” said Lydia.  “He said, ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been treated like this. Everyone you have seen before me is an idiot.’” More specific bloodwork and an MRI confirmed that Lydia had a macroadenoma, a benign tumor in the pituitary gland, and Cushing’s disease. After the diagnosis, Lydia was told that she would need to have the tumor removed. “He told me, ‘Find where you want to go and I’ll refer you,’” said Lydia.

Lydia and her mother Jeanne began searching online for the right pituitary tumor surgeon. “Once I realized how serious it was, we started researching different doctors,” recalled Jeanne.

Both Lydia and Jeanne spent time researching different doctors, but could not find a doctor that had experience treating Cushing’s disease. “We researched all kinds of surgeons to find the best one,” said Jeanne. “Then we found Dr. Oyesiku. He understood Cushing’s disease. That was important to me.” Jeanne is the one who found world-renowned pituitary tumor surgeon, Dr. Nelson Oyesiku. “I called him and said, ‘I have a 28-year-old daughter with a pituitary tumor and Cushing’s disease and I need you to operate on her,’” said Jeanne.

Dr. Oyesiku has performed over 4,000 pituitary tumor operations and is currently the Chair of the Department of Neurosurgery at UNC Health. “Cushing’s is a rare disease so not many surgeons have a lot of experience with the various technical nuances required to achieve a high likelihood of cure and reduce the incidence of re-operations and complications,” said Dr. Oyesiku.

Since Lydia lives in Florida, her initial consultation with Dr. Oyesiku was over Zoom. “I Zoomed with another local neurosurgeon and I was going back and forth,” said Lydia. “Dr. Oyesiku told me that he looks at the whole picture and what the tumor is doing to you. He said that he wanted to get the tumor out and then cure the Cushing’s disease.” Jeanne was also with her daughter during the initial Zoom appointment with Dr. Oyesiku. “I couldn’t find anyone else that had that background knowledge for Cushing’s disease,” said Jeanne.

Dr. Oyesiku ordered more labs. “He told me ‘I want to measure twice and cut once,’” recalled Lydia. “That phrase is something my dad always said growing up and that felt like fate. So that made my decision for me and made me want to see him.”

After her initial consultation with Dr. Oyesiku, both Lydia and her mother felt confident that they had found the right surgeon. Lydia met with Dr.Oyesiku in December of 2022, then had her surgery on January 23, 2023. “I called UNC and made sure that I could go in with her and stay while she was recovering,” said Jeanne. “We had contacted a different hospital early on, and I would have had to drop her off and not see her until after her surgery and only during visiting hours.”

Patient coordinator David Baker, who also played an important role in Lydia’s care, helped Lydia and Jeanne find a local hotel for them to stay in before surgery at a discounted rate. After surgery, UNC Health endocrinologist Dr. Atil Kargi spoke with Lydia and her mom to help them understand the severity of Cushing’s disease and the importance of monitoring Lydia closely. “Dr. Kargi and David Baker really helped us to truly understand Cushing’s disease,” said Jeanne.

Jeanne was impressed with the level of patient care that Lydia experienced during her surgery at UNC Health. “Lydia had her own nurse that would text me or call me to let me know how things were progressing.” Jeanne said. Jeanne explained that the same nurse was with her daughter going into the surgery and when she woke up after the surgery. She was also able to stay with Lydia in the hospital while she recovered from the surgery. “UNC was such an uplifting place. All these residents, they all love what they’re doing,” said Jeanne.

Lydia stayed in the hospital for six days so Dr. Oyesiku and the endocrine team could monitor her levels. “I was in the normal range, and then I started to tank,” said Lydia. “I had read that a lot of patients are sent home right after surgery. If they would have sent me, I would have been adrenally insufficient.”

Lydia also expressed gratitude for ENT surgeon, Dr. Brian Thorp. “During my surgery, Dr. Thorp also repaired my deviated septum,” said Lydia. “Even after surgery when I was home miles away in Florida, he was always available to me. I appreciate Dr. Oyesiku and everyone at UNC,” said Lydia. “I can’t imagine going anywhere else for this. Dr. Oyesiku truly saved my life.”

After her discharge, Jeanne drove Lydia back to Florida. “Dr. Oyesiku followed-up after surgery with the Cushing’s disease treatment,” said Jeanne. “Our local endocrinologist could not believe how fast she recovered.” Jeanne also noted that she was always able to get ahold of Dr. Oyesiku, Dr. Thorp, or David Baker to answer her questions. “You feel like you’re their only patient,” said Jeanne. “We are 8-9 hours away, and it didn’t feel like it.”

After Lydia weaned off of her medication, she started to lose weight, her face changed, and her body started to feel “normal” again. “My biggest symptom that I am thankful went away was my literally going crazy feeling,” said Lydia. “I am very thankful that I was able to catch it early enough so that this awful disease didn’t leave me with any lifelong complications.”

Lydia, like many pituitary tumor patients, still has lingering feelings of anxiety and frustration with the long road from initial symptoms to diagnosis. It takes the average pituitary tumor patient 5-8 years to be properly diagnosed. Lydia and her mother were extremely proactive and still spent 18 months looking for answers. Lydia went to her primary care provider, her OB, a second OB, and two endocrinologists before she had a proper diagnosis. “Cushing’s disease can mimic many other vastly common medical disorders and is often misdiagnosed or mistaken for something else such as diabetes, hypertension, obesity, infertility, depression, or autoimmune disorders,” said Dr. Oyesiku. “Making the diagnosis requires expert clinical acumen supported by sophisticated medical tests, and many of these tests have to be repeated to confirm the diagnosis.”

Because Cushing’s disease is so rare, many of the providers that initially saw Lydia dismissed it. After her surgery, Lydia returned to her OB office in Florida for her annual exam and was seen by the OB that told her that her symptoms were “all in her head”. “I told him, ‘Remember that you blew me off? I had a brain tumor that caused Cushing’s disease,’” said Lydia. “He told me that in all his years practicing, he had never had a patient with an endocrine disorder caused by a pituitary tumor.”

Lydia’s story and other pituitary tumor patient stories serve as a reminder that while Cushing’s disease is rare, it is worth ruling out when a patient complains of these symptoms. “Part of the problem is that people just do not have access to good doctors,” said Jeanne. “If we had not had that endocrinologist, I don’t know how much longer it would have taken. It makes me sad that other women and even men can have it for so long because they cannot figure out what is going on.”

Both Jeanne and Lydia are thankful that the surgery was a success, but the symptoms and long road to a diagnosis left Lydia with a few emotional scars. “I’m fine and healthy on paper, but still battling the mental aspects and the toll it took on me,” said Lydia. “Sometimes I feel resentful because it took away a year and a half of my life. I feel very blessed to be on the other side of this disease, but I’m ready to not be a patient anymore.”

Patient Before and After Pituitary Tumor Surgery

From https://www.med.unc.edu/neurosurgery/i-dont-feel-normal-the-diagnosis-of-a-pituitary-tumor-cushings-disease/?fbclid=IwAR1I12ND084Ato5lloDalTEcIFycV5HpLiR7S1brNxr7Lux1BZ6g_vySHOA

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