It's Time to Start This Mother UP!

(Yes, that is a Hairspray quote.  If you were friends with me in grad school, let me assure you that my obsessive love of that movie/musical has not waned over the years).

Hey guys!  I moved to Ecuador two and a half weeks ago!  Which means...

TILT THE MILK IS BACK ♥.

I started this blog when I was living in Ireland.  I rejuvenated it when I was going through the Mystery Illness ordeal.  And now I am breathing new life into it once again so that I may chronicle my upcoming year's worth of adventures here in Ecuador.

But before I start talking about Ecuador, I'm going to re-post a mini Ode to School Bus Drivers that I threw onto facebook a few days before I left for South America.  Here it is:

 Why I Love School Bus Drivers

14 March 2014

I love bus drivers! ♥ Out in the country near my house there is this Perfectly Formed Dip in the road where, if hit at just the right speed, you can get just enough air to make your stomach go WOOOOO (you know what I mean) without banging up your car. Yesterday while driving into town, I totally saw a bus speed up and hit The Dip just for the kids' entertainment. As they passed me I could see the bus driver with this giant grin on her face, laughing at what I can only imagine were the delighted shrieks of the children.

When we were little, there was this MONSTER bump out in the country, right before the pig farm towards the end of our bus route. We kids were methodical in our preparation for The Bump. As we neared it, all talking, fighting, and playing came to a dead halt. As if we'd been trained, we spread ourselves out evenly throughout the bus, rotating each day who got to sit in The Way Back. As soon as we passed the farm before The Bump, we all began bouncing up and down in perfect, methodical, probably creepy-to-see unison. We knew that if our bounces happened to coincide perfectly with The Bump, we could get AIRBORNE. It worked the same way that trampolines work; the way you could get super high air if someone double-bounced right next to you while you were already jumping. WE LIVED FOR THIS MOMENT OF THE ROUTE. I can't remember his name, but I can still picture the boy on my bus who, one time and one time only, got so much air he actually hit the ceiling. We hero worshiped him for the rest of the school year.

In middle school our bus routes changed. The Bump was, sadly, no longer on the way home. We did however get a new bus driver, who ended up being my favorite bus driver of all time. His name was Terry, and he looked a lot like Jay Leno. He was super sarcastic and sassy and delighted in not taking shit from any of us damn kids. I insisted on calling him "Uncle Terry," a title that he claimed to hate for the next five years. He pretended to be constantly exasperated by the exuberance of my brother, my neighbors, and I, but we all knew we were his favorite kids on the route. I think Terry was the first adult I had a mutually sassy relationship with. He picked on us, we sassed him back, and he laughed. It was an almost vaudevillian routine that we repeated twice a day, every day, for a substantial chunk of my adolescence.

Watching the bus driver hit The Dip yesterday reminded me of how much I loved my bus route and bus drivers when I was little. When you're a country kid, sometimes your bus rides home are a full 45 minutes to an hour long, a time frame incomprehensible to our fellow suburban City Kid Friends. Thankfully I had really wonderful bus drivers all through my life, and the relationships I had with them were both supportive and formative.

Every one knows how important parents are in the development of a child's life. And, although often under-appreciated, people at least recognize the essential roles that teachers play in the life of a kid. But good bus drivers are some of the Ultimate Unsung Heroes in the daily grind of those working their way up the K-12 ladder. So here's to YOU, Awesome Bus Drivers of the World! Thanks for being an adult that's not afraid to talk to kids for a living. Thanks for being a role model for those who don't have a lot of good adult role models in their life. Thanks for making us laugh, and thanks for making us sit down and shut up when we need to. Thanks for keeping us safe. And thanks for, every once in awhile, giving the bus a little extra gas when going over a big bump ♥.

The Mystery Illness Diaries: The Final Chapter

Let's close the chapter on this bitch.

Did they ever figure out what was wrong with me?  Ha!  You and I both wish.  No doctor was ever able to figure out what type of nasty ass Mystery Illness attacked my body last March.  Mayo Clinic even rejected my case not once, but twice.  Although they didn't really reject my case the second time my doctor and I petitioned for me to get in... they simply ignored my requests by never bothering to send an answer.  Sort of like insurance companies do.

By the grace of God, I slowly, slowly, slooooowly started to get better.  I went from not being able to walk at all, to walking across the yard, to walking for ten minutes, to walking a mile, to running half a mile... it was all an incredibly slow process, and often a bit insufferable.  But in the face of the medical community having absolutely no idea what to make of me, I found myself clinging to every single baby step (literally, baby steps), hoping and praying and believing that I would make a full recovery.  My tiny baby steps, in the face of the unknown, were what got me through the months of March, April, May, and June.  That, and all of the love, support, prayers, hopes and wishes of all my friends and family.  Because of all of you, right now I am sitting in a hostel in South America, preparing for a four day hike through the Inca Trail which will end at Machu Picchu, feeling nearly 100% completely recovered ♥.

Because the doctors were never able to give me a diagnosis, I wasn't sure what to blog about for a long time.  Once I was able to work again, all of my energies were suddenly turned towards making enough money to go on the South American trip that Ashley 'Wolf' Wakefield and I had been planning in different capacities for the last four years.  Now that we are here, realizing our four-year dream in spite of a ridiculous amount of trials and tribulations, I felt a need to write a final epilogue of sorts regarding this nasty little chapter of my life.  A sort of cathartic, written exorcism of Illnesses Past.  This trip pretty much marks a beginning of a new life for me, because when I return to the States, I will be starting over completely.  I will be looking for a new job.  For new adventures.  For new places to live.  I want to travel!  I want to learn.  I want to see all seven continents.  I want so much and am not afraid to go out and get it, no matter how unconventional that may seem for a girl who is four days away from turning thirty.  I will return home super pumped to see what the next fabulous decade will bring me!  But first, some closure on The Mystery Illness Diaries ♥.

It's One Thing To Always Get Carded, But This Is Ridiculous 

Throughout the entirety of my twenties, people have always, always told me that I am very young and youthful for my age (no matter what my age was) and then always hastened to explain that they meant that in the most complimentary of ways.  They didn't need to explain further because I always knew exactly what they meant and always took it as a compliment: I am very youthful for my age in a good way.  What people usually mean when they say that to me is that even though I may be (enter random 20 something age here) years old, I have a ton of energy and spunk that most people my age don't have. Maybe it's because I'm always belly laughing loudly in public.  Maybe it's because I am a  huge, obvious extrovert.  Maybe it's because I can run around with children for hours and hours on end until I've tired them out instead of the other way around.  Maybe it's because I drink lots of water and don't tan or smoke, which we all know can age a person.  Whatever the combo, people usually guess I am five or so years younger than I actually am.  And I'm totally cool with that.  I don't mind it when my 21 year old brother and I go to the bar together and I get carded and he does not.  So, until this year, I've only had good associations with the concept of being eternally youthful.

Until that friggin' Mystery Illness.

What my primary doctor thinks happéned, with an emphasis on the word thinks, is that for absolutely no good reason I contracted a Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children.  This virus latches onto where your brain attaches to your spinal chord, and raises hell.  Not just any type of hell, but exactly the type of hell I went through for four months.  The complete numbness in the hands and feet.  The loss of motor skills in your proximal muscles.  The ridiculous amount of fatigue, the waves  of nausea, the inability to eat, the pain in the head, neck, and back.  And most maddening of all, a Near Impossible To Find Diagnosis.  This Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children will not show up in any tests, blood draws, xrays, spinal taps, MRIs, CAT Scans, or exorcisms (sound familiar?).  The only reason kids even get diagnosed with this Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children is because children under the age of 10 somtimes get saddled with it.  It's rare and weird and comes for reasons not really understood and just goes away on its own and doesn't seem to necessarily ever come back.

My doctor's nephew had this Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children when he was a 10 year old, and because she was involved with his case a decade ago, she thought maybe for some reason I, at the tender age of 29, had also contracted this Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children.

I can make peace with this idea for a few reasons: 1) Viruses are like the Pirates of the biomedical world.  They come, they rape, they pillage, and then they fucking leave.  I can make peace with the thought of a dick virus that came and did its dirty deed but then tired of my broken body and went to find a different wasteland to conquer. 2) Viruses of this type usually don't come back once they've left your system, and also aren't something you have to worry about transferring to your future offspring.  I like not having to worry about this thing lying dormant inside of me, waiting to rear its ugly head in 10 years.  I also like not having to worry about passing it onto my children someday.  3)  I really have no other option than to accept this hypothesis and make my peace with it.  No one else came even close dreaming up a proper diagnosis for me.  So, even though my doctor is not 100% sure I was hit by the Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children, it's the only thing any doctor was able to throw my way, and I'm glad to take it.  It's easier to make peace with a traumatic experience when you have a name to give to said experience.  Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children will have to do.  And as long as it never ever ever comes back (and my doctor says she doesn't think it will), I'll call it that and wash my hands of it, Pontius Pilate style.

Some Other Things of Note Before I Run Off Into the South American Night:

Two weeks before Grandma's Half Marathon, I was finally cleared to start running again!  And so, I did sort of a crazy thing: I ran a half marathon ♥.

Although I didn't technically graduate from Physical Therapy until August, I told my PT on Day One that I wanted to prove all of the neurologists wrong and run my third Half Marathon on June 16th.  I had been training for it before the Weird & Nasty Virus That Usually Only Attacks Children hit me, and one of the things that made me cry the hardest was when I was in the hospital and my neurologist told me that running a Halfie in June was pretty much out of the question.  Now, I am an incredibly safe girl who doesn't jeopardize her health just for funsies.  I told Molly, my fabulous PT, that I would only do what my body was capable of doing, but that I wanted to push myself to do as much of my Halfie as possible.  Even if I was only able to run one mile and had to walk the other 12.1 miles.  My only goal was to get to the starting line, and to somehow make it to the finish line.  Even if I walked the entire time.  Even if I crawled the whole time.  Even if the full marathoners caught up to me.  Even if I got trampled by all of the full marathon running Kenyans.  As long as I was able to try.

And, against all of the odds.... I ran almost the entire thing.  Before the Halfie and throughout my recovery process, I had only run 2 miles, two different times, so I fully expected myself to poop out after five miles, tops.  But before I knew it, I was at mile seven and I hadn't yet stopped to walk.  I did a combination of walking and running for the last 6.1 miles, and crossed the finish line with a time of about 3 hours and 4 minutes, a mere five or so minutes before all of the Kenyans running the Full came blasting through.  I. Was. FLOORED ♥.  I had exceeded even my own expectations!  The entire thing was incredibly emotional, and I cried a lot.  Like, I started crying at Mile 5 when an old man dressed in a super sweet kilt came out of his house and started bagpipping for all of us runners.  I was half sick by the time I was done, but I felt SO STRONG and SO PROUD.  Just as I was crossing the finish line, I heard my brother Tobin yell 'I LOVE YOU CORY!' from one of the front row seats in the bleachers.  After the race he took really good care of me, making sure I drank water, wrapping me up in my heat reflective blanket, and buying me a big lunch.  It was so wonderful to have him there, on a day that was so incredibly important to me!  My dad was also super proud of me, and even though he sort of thinks running is the most idiotic and masochistic thing a person can do to themselves, he proudly wore my medal around his neck the entire next day.  Running my Halfie was a pretty big deal, and was a major step in my recovery and healing process ♥.

I Got A Little Bit Famous!

 About a month before Grandma's Marathon, the Grandma's PR people put out a request for people's Marathon Stories.  Basically, they wanted to know if anyone running the Full Marathon, Half Marathon, or 5k had any Tears and Triumphs stories to share with the world.  I, quite obviously, had a pretty intense story to share, but in typical Cory Dack Fashion I wrote up and sent in my tale about a month after the deadline.  That was okay, because the little story I wrote up was something I did mostly for me.  Again with the whole Writing Is Catharsis notion.  Because I turned in my story SO late, I didn't think anyone would read it, let alone take notice of it.  I called my story From Hospital Bed to Half Marathon, and apparently it did catch someone's eye because three days before my Halfie I got a super unexpected phone call from Jacob Kittlestad of Channel 21 News.  He told me that the local news station was really excited about my Recovery Story, and that they wanted to do a News Feature on me!  Within an hour, Jacob and his camera man were at my house, filming my bedroom, asking to take pictures of my race medals, and interviewing me about my crazy health battles.  It was so surreal!  After the race, he caught up with me again and did a post race Victory Interview ♥.  The news story aired that night, and I was able to watch it for the first time with my Running Family at a post race party a member of my training group threw at a local bar.

Needless to say, the entire experience was pretty amazing.  There's more I could say, but we are about to sit down for a Peruvian Stir Fry dinner here at our hostel, so I will close the entry by posting first the story I submitted to Grandma's Marathon that got me my little 15 minutes of fame, and then a link to the TV feature itself.  And then, hopefully from here on out I will only blog about amazing travel opportunities, and other life adventures, and never, EVER have to blog about Mystery Illnesses ever, ever again ♥.

Here's the Story I Submitted to Grandma's Marathon:

From Hospital Bed to Half Marathon

By Cory Maria Dack

Duluth, MN

Garry Bjorkland Half Marathon

A year ago, I wasn't a runner. I loved being active, and I loved being outdoors, but to actively run outdoors or otherwise? It wasn't really my thing. But then one of my best friends shocked us all (and herself) by deciding to run a full marathon. Armed with an air horn and a bunch of bright posters that screamed her name, I cheered my friend on as she ran her way to the finish line. By the end of the day, I decided that if my best friend could run 26.2 miles, I should push myself to see if I could run even one.

I couldn't.

But that was okay with me! I wasn't surprised that I couldn't run a full mile after being inactive for a long time. I started small. I would run the length of one song on my discman (yes, I still have a discman) and then I would have to walk for 2-3 songs to recover. But eventually, I found myself running 2-3 song in a row, and only walking here and there. By the end of the month I had signed up for my first ever race: the Park Point Five Miler. When I crossed that finish line, I felt invincible! I couldn't believe I had run FIVE ENTIRE MILES. I knew that my life was changing, and a few weeks later I walked into the Duluth Running Company, bought my first real pair of running shoes, and signed up for their Whistlestop Full and Half Marathon Training Group.

The rest, as they say, is history. Between last July and this March I'd run in multiple 5ks, a 10k, a 15k, and even two different Half Marathons. And, as luck would have it, my lottery number was pulled for the Garry Bjorklund. I was excitedly training again with my friends from the Duluth Running Company when life threw a curve ball at me: I woke up one morning to find that my hands, feet, arms and legs were all numb. By the end of the week, I could barely walk. The months of March and April brought with them an endless amount of tests, CAT scans, MRIs, x-rays, a spinal tap, and even a week long stay in the hospital. No one could figure out what was wrong with me. All the tests kept coming back normal, which was laughable because I was barely walking, sleeping throughout most of the day, and hardly able to eat. I was passed from specialist to specialist: neurology, infectious disease, rheumatology, and more. You name it, I stumped 'em. I lost my ability to work, and with it my job. For two months my entire world was upside down.

Thankfully, I had the love and support of friends and family to pull me through. I also had an incredibly supportive primary doctor who really advocated for me, as well as a great physical therapist who has helped me fight to regain the strength in my legs. When I first started physical therapy, I was barely able to hobble around the house with a cane. Now a mere two weeks ago, I was able to go on my first run since I fell ill: 1.5 big miles! This was huge. Since then I have have logged in some serious training time, and have felt my strength come back in leaps and bounds with every step.

On Saturday, June 16^th, I am going to put on my Half Marathon bib and step onto the starting line with all of my friends. Will I run the entire 13.1 miles? Of course not. But I will walk and run for as much of the race as I can. This time, it's not about finishing in a certain amount of time. It's about doing the best that I can, while reflecting on how far I've come over the past few months. In short, this race is going to be my glorious come back. It won't be my fastest race ever, but it will certainly be my most victorious.

***

Here is the Link to My Super Awesome News Story:

 Newsaliciousness!

Until next time... ¡Buenas Noches!

The Mystery Illness Diaries: Journey to the Magical Land of Updates

Sometimes I fall into the habit of deciding not to update until 'this' batch of tests comes back, or until I hear from 'that' doctor concerning the 'thing' we were just talking about.  As a result, I find myself with a series of vignettes I probably should have put into words a few weeks ago.  I'm not even sure where to start, so I'll just... start.

Turns Out, I'm Not Pregnant

Of course this was never even a worry.  But for the love of god, there have been times when I felt like my daily list of irritations could have been lifted right out of a pregnancy blog:  My feet are numb!  I can't wear shoes!  My back hurts!  It's hard to get on and off the toilet!  I can't bend over!  I'm always tired!  I keep crying while watching episodes of The Voice! I'd sob while eating ice cream and listening to the background stories of the hopeful songsters auditioning to be on Team Adam or Team Cee Lo.  I related to them in stupid ways. Katrina Parker lost her voice for two years because she came down with a mysterious illness.  I also have a mysterious illness, so I relate to her!  Erin Willett really loves her dad and he just died of cancer.  I also really love my dad so I relate to her!  Tony Lucca is the only person from his generation of The Mickey Mouse Club who didn't get famous, and he had to spend the last ten years watching Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Justin Timberlake get super famous while he sat around getting not-famous.  I also spent the last ten years watching Britney, Christina, and Justin get famous while I did not get famous. I can relate to him!!!!  It was one of my more pathetic departures from rational thinking.

Thankfully, I am happy to report that my faux pregnancy days seem to be over.  Yesterday, for the first time since this all started, I was able to wear close-toed shoes.  This is actually sort of a big deal.  My feet were so numb and swollen for so long that wearing anything other than my Chacos was kind of unbearable.  I almost don't want to say this out loud (because I don't want to jinx it) but the numbness has completely left my hands and my feet are about 85% not-numb.  This has helped me to regain a lot of my lost balance and has also contributed to me slowly re-learning to walk properly.  You know that feeling when you've sat in a weird position for too long and your foot gets all numb and you have to shake the hell out of it for a few minutes before you get relief?  Yeah, that's how my hands and feet felt for about a month and a half, only shaking them didn't help.  Needless to say, it's been a huge relief to have that doctor-stumping symptom make a marked improvement.

With the help of regular Physical Therapy sessions, I've also been regaining some of the strength in my legs.  It's weird how this Mystery Illness attacked my bigger leg muscles (thighs, quads, hammies, etc.) but not my calves or ankles.  We discovered in PT that I have a really hard time riding a regular stationary bike.  Each rotation was incredibly jerky, and I was tired after only two minutes.  It turns out that biking was difficult because I still have a really hard time lifting my legs using my proximal (big) leg muscles.  The only thing that was causing one of my legs to go up in a rotation was the fact that my opposite leg was pushing its pedal down at the same time.  Hence the jerkiness.  My physical therapist had me switch over to a recumbent bike, and I was able to pedal in that position for ten minutes without getting tired.  This whole proximal vs. distal leg muscle business has also affected my ability to run vs. walk.  I'm still not able to go on runs (there's a bit too much proximal work going on there) but I have finally gathered enough strength to go on walks that last a mile or longer.  This is legitimately a big deal ♥.  Before I started running I used to live to go on two-hour power walks every day.  Even though I get pretty wiped out after my mile-walks now, I am able to pull a lot of hope and inspiration out of the fact that I can go on these walks at all.  In my mind, I'm just around the river bend from being able to walk for a full hour.  And once I can do that, I'll be on my way to resurrecting my Epic Power Walking career.  And once I can do that, I'll be just a hop and a skip away from running.  And once I can do that.... I'll be able to start training for half marathons again ♥.

Other happy health-related things: my eating habits are swinging back to a more normal cycle.  No more of this "If I eat too much I'll throw up but if I eat too little I'll throw up as well and did I ever mention I have a bit of a phobia of throwing up?" business. For about a month my eating habits were completely dictated around a paralyzing fear of having to vomit if I didn't play my cards right.  I'm not sure why, but I've been phobic about throwing up my entire life.  It's not about vomit in general - I don't mind if you throw up.  I'll hold your hair back if you need me to and I'll even clean up your mess when you're all done.  The point is, I hate having to puke and I am thankful that as of the last few weeks I've been eating and snacking out of hunger, rather than eating and snacking out of Terror.  Taking 3-4 naps a day is also a thing of the past!  I am now down to 1-2 naps or rests per day, which is awesome.  Adhering to a mild Nap Schedule is still incredibly important, but only needing two rests a day means I can get out of the house more often.  And finally, on the emotional health front, I am happy to report that now when I watch The Voice, I only cry when they do a feature on my favorite contestant, Jamar Rogers.  Oh okay, I also still cry during most of Erin Willett's performances.  (She really loves her dad!  I can relate to that!)  I just can't help myself.



Mayo: More Than Just a Condiment

Although I feel much better these days, I am still a long ways from being back to 100%.  Because of this, and because no doctor ever has managed to figure out what my Mystery Illness is or why it came about, my primary doctor is now truly considering Mayo Clinic as an option.  I know we've dropped the M-bomb several times over the last month or so, but prior to this week Mayo was an option they didn't want to talk about until I had exhausted more of my options up here.  I am fully okay to go down to Mayo Clinic if need be. My current healing process is pretty encouraging, but let us not forget that we are throwing up our Victory Vs because I am "napping only 1-2 times a day" and "going on walks" and "not puking in between meals."  These small milestones are great in light of what life was throughout most of March and April, but I have not exactly reached an optimal standard of living.

More importantly, I want to know that I am actually getting better.  I want confirmation that this nasty ordeal is truly leaving my body.  Ten years down the road I don't want to find out that really this thing never went away it just went into hibernation where it was able to grow and get nastier and gain evil powers and oh crap now I only have six weeks to live.  I mean, I do feel like I am getting better for reals (knock on wood).  But I would still like some answers.  Assuming that everything goes as planned and I am able to receive Medical Assistance, I believe that any work that I have done at Mayo will be covered through my MA selected insurance plan.  So why not go, right?  I don't know, maybe it's because money has been a struggle my whole life, but I feel this need to validate why I am not satisfied by simply "getting better."  I think that the money-worrying part of me feels like I shouldn't work with the world's best (and theoretically most expensive) doctors since I'm no longer hooked up to heart monitors and IVs, almost as if I am worried that I am no longer "sick enough" to merit a trip down to The Big Dance.  A life time of financial frugality is battling with a gut instinct that says I should go see any damn doctor I want and not feel guilty about it.  We all have our issues that can't be fixed with tissues, so to speak, but my gut is telling me that I shouldn't let this particular type of baggage interfere with an already tricky healing process.  Since I always go with my gut, I will most likely head down south at some point.  I just wish I wasn't so up in my head about it right now.


Dodging a Series of Catch-22s

My last day of work was on March 18th, and my insurance was cancelled, well, today.  But I have always been a Super Duper Planner/Take Charge Of My Life type of girl, and thusly spent the past month trying to prepare for a multitude of impending financial predicaments.  After spending countless hours on the phone with social workers, insurance reps, COBRA workers, unemployment case managers, and more, I found myself hitting a series of financial dead ends.  It went something like this:

Once my insurance ran out I had the option of signing up for COBRA to extend my current plan.  Unfortunately I would be paying for my entire premium myself, which is something I couldn't do more than once before I ran out of money.  But because I am still sick, I need to have some sort of insurance because I still have a lot of doctors' appointments to go to, as well as Physical Therapy.  If I don't continue PT and the like, I won't be medically cleared to work.  So I thought, maybe I can get unemployment to help me pay for COBRA so I have some sort of health insurance while I'm waiting during the 45 days it takes for Medical Assistance applications to get reviewed and approved.  Oh but wait, it turns out you can only collect unemployment if you are medically cleared to work and actively seeking new jobs.  So I applied for Medical Assistance but now if that gets cleared I can't make more than $681 a month or I loose my MA.  Which I guess is fine for now since I can't work and am not making any sort of income anyway.  But crap I have student loan payments and other bills, so I still need some sort of income.  But I can't collect any type of Social Security or short-term disability because no one knows what's wrong with me yet, so the doctors can't declare me temporarily disabled which means I don't qualify for any federal assistance programs.  But thankfully when I applied for MA and food stamps I was able to apply for cash assistance from the county.  Unfortunately I don't qualify for any assistance from the county because I am currently living at home and to get money from the county you can't be living with anyone that makes more than $231 a month.  So I can't get unemployment or social security or temporary disability or county assistance.  Annnnnnnd, I'm still not medically cleared to work.  So, right now I'm sort of screwed income-wise.

The good news is that the workers at the county building put a Medical Emergency Rush on my MA application in the hopes that I will be cleared for MA right away without having to wait around for a full 45 days without insurance.  Another great thing about MA is that it can be retro-active once it kicks in, which means it should cover the cost of any PT and doctor appointments I have between now and my MA start date.  So at least I will be medically covered in due time.  And thankfully I spent the last year making really aggressive payments on my student loans in preparation for my South America trip, so if I can scrape enough together to make one last payment I won't have to make any more payments for the rest of this year.  That means all I need to worry about is my phone bill, my credit card bill, and the cost of gas.  Although my resources are dwindling I figure I have at least another month before I run out of money.  All I can really do for now is hope that I'll have recovered enough to do some amount of work before that time comes.  In the mean time, if any one knows of any lucrative ways to make cash besides selling drugs or selling my body, please let me know.


Optimistic Future Plans

Although I've been riding a financial roller coaster for the last few weeks, my increase in overall health has kept me optimistic and hopeful.  As such, I'm continuing on with the life plans I had set into motion before I hit this Medical Detour.  Namely this affects my plans for Grandma's Marathon, my trip to South America, and my application to the Peace Corps.

Because I am incredibly stubborn, I have decided that I am going to participate in Grandma's Half Marathon even if I have to walk the entire thing with my super sweet cane in hand.  Here in Duluth we host Grandma's Full and Half Marathon every June.  It's a pretty big deal - people from all over the world run it! Grandma's is famous for having a beautiful course that runs along the North Shore of Lake Superior all the way into Duluth.  The full marathon also happens to be a Boston Qualifier.  The half marathon is so popular that you can only get in via selection through a lottery system.  This year some 12,000 people entered the lottery system and only 6,300 people were selected.  And I was one of those people.  I was beyond excited to make the lottery, which makes me want to Half-It-Up this year even more.  Don't worry, I'm not going to do any running if I'm not strong enough to run.  I'm not interested in hurting myself or experiencing a set-back.  I just want to do the best that I can for the sake of doing it.  If they have to kick me off of the course because all of the Kenyans running the full marathon are about to blast through, then so be it.  As if to taunt these aspirations even further, I just received my bib number in the mail today. I fully plan on putting it on come race day.

On October 1st my best friend and I are planning to start a tour of South America ♥.  We've been planning several variations of this trip (which Ashley and I have dubbed our "honeymoon") since 2009.  In preparation for this grand adventure I spent the last year logging crazy amounts of overtime at a horrible job so that I could make double and triple payments on my student loans, as well as save money for our trip back to my Original Homeland.  Although we were clever enough to purchase insurance on our plane tickets, I am pretty damn determined that we are not going to have to use it.  We will go on this trip.  I will be strong enough to do all of the adventurous things we've been dreaming about.  I will hike to Machu Picchu the day of my 30th birthday.  Because I deserve to.  Are some things sort of up in the air right now?  Sure.  Am I going to give up on our dream trip?  No. Freaking. Way.  In fact, yesterday I started getting a handful of the vaccinations we'll need to receive before we head south to our Sister Continent.  I checked with my Infectious Disease doctors to make sure that this Mystery Illness wasn't going to mess up any of my vaccinations.  Meaning, I made sure my immune system wasn't so weak that I would accidentally give myself whopping cough by getting the whopping cough vaccination.  The ID doc said I was good to go, so now I sit here typing with a stiff left arm because I forgot that tetanus shots make you stiff and sore for 1-3 days ♥.

As you can probably guess my Peace Corps application has taken a back seat since all of this craziness began.  That is not to say that I have abandoned that cause.  In all actuality, the Peace Corps actually factors into my decision to go see the doctors down at Mayo.  To be accepted into the Peace Corps, you have to pass some pretty intense medical screenings.  I'll admit, I don't want to have to write something vague like "Yeah, so I had this really weird and really scary Mystery Illness for few months that no one could diagnose but don't even worry about it 'cause I think I'm all better now" on my medical history forms.  Call me crazy, but I feel as though such a thing might bring my application process to a screeching halt.  Rather, I'd like to write something more along the lines of "I had 'This Illness' for a few months at the beginning of 2012, but thankfully the doctors were able to diagnose me and they gave me 'These Medicines' and now I am all better."  Of course, joining the Peace Corps is not my number one concern at this juncture in my life, but it is still something I very much plan on doing in the future, and so I have kept it in the back of my mind throughout this whole ordeal.

And so!  Thus concludes our journey to the Magical Land of Updates.  We've covered Health, Finances, and Future Hopes and Dreams all in one sitting, haha.  Hopefully I'll have more news to share sooner than later.  Thank you so much again to everyone who has followed my updates.  And triple thank-yous go out to everyone who has taken the time to call, text, write, visit, and send care packages.  All of the positive energy and love you've all sent my way has seriously had a huge impact on my healing.  Your love vibes are truly a powerful thing.  Thank you for sending them my way! ♥

The Mystery Illness Diaries: "You're Going to Feel Like You're Peeing Your Pants"

Hello, friends! I finally finished moving all of my old updates from facebook to this blog. Now I have my entire medical journey thus far right here, all in one place. On to what's been happening this week.

First, I'd like to propose a question. What is it about peeing your pants that makes you immediately feel uncomfortable? I mean, if you really stop to think about it, emptying your bladder feels pretty good. So it's not the actual act of peeing your pants that horrifies you. It's got to be the "holy crap it is only socially acceptable for toddlers to pee their pants and I'm a grown up oh my god" social factor that makes one cringe at the thought. And sure, there are some hygiene factors in there that need to be taken into consideration. But over all, I believe that if you took all social and hygiene concerns out of the equation, people would be peeing their pants like crazy just for the fun of it.

Don't believe me? That's okay. Either way, I am here to tell you that I have felt what it feels like to pee your pants without actually peeing your pants, and it feels awesome.

On Tuesday the Infectious Disease doctor told me that the people in Rheumatology wanted me to have a series of CAT Scans run so that they could see if there were any hidden little joys lurking in my lymph nodes. Upon arriving at the radiology lab, the nurses gave me about a liter of (thankfully flavorless) iodine water to drink so that they could run the CAT Scans both with contrast and without contrast. I'll just let you know right now that I don't really know what that means. I had them explain it to me, but I've had so many medical procedures explained to me over the past month and a half that it sort of goes in one ear and out the other. Anywho, they ran a series of CAT Scans on me and then, for contrast's sake, pulled me out of the tube so that they could give me one last injection of iodine for the next series of scans.

"Okay dear, now when we give you this injection, you are immediately going to feel a sensation of warmth spreading through your body. That warmth is going to rush to your crotch and it is going to feel like you're peeing your pants. JUST RELAX, you are not peeing your pants, so there will be no need to clench or tense up. Just go with it."

And with that the last shot of iodine was sent coursing through my veins! At first I didn't feel any warmth anywhere at all. My thought process went something along the lines of, "Well, this is disappointing I don't really feel anything at - holy shit I'm peeing my pants I'm peeing my pants there is PEE EVERYWHERE."

I started to giggle uncontrollably, like a little kid who has been caught actually peeing her pants. The microphone clicked on. "Is everything all right in there?"

"Yeah, I just really, really feel like I'm peeing my pants."

"Yes, well, we warned you that would happen." Click.

For whatever reason, the combination of the "spreading warmth" and the reassuring knowledge that I wasn't actually peeing my pants made the entire experience relaxing and enjoyable. It was the kind of experience I wouldn't mind having to do again. I imagined a world in which people tried to finagle their doctors into ordering unnecessary CAT Scans with Contrast, just so they could enjoy a pee-free, pants-peeing experience. It could be the cool new thing all the Youths do. There would be reality TV shows about it. Parents wouldn't understand.

After I was done not-peeing-my-pants, I left Radiology and headed up to Neurology for a follow-up appointment made back when I was having those horrific spinal headaches. Thankfully the Blood Bandage they injected to cover my leaky spine-hole has continued to do its job, and I am happy to report that I've been headache free for awhile now ♥.

By far the best part of my follow-up was when I was finally given official confirmation that I do not have MS, ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease), or any brain tumors!!!

Back when neurology first decided that I had never had Guillain-Barre Syndrome, I was still suffering from the worst of the spinal headaches and was immediately checked into the hospital so that I could undergo the Blood Bandage procedure that night. Unfortunately, this all happened so fast that I was unable to get official confirmation that some of those other big, scary neurological disorders were also crossed off the list. Since then, every doctor I've talked to has said something along the lines of "Well, I don't think you have MS, etc., but since I'm not a neurologist, I can't really give you a final answer." To their credit they would attempt to contact my old neurologists to get a final answer from one of them, but three weeks later I had still never received word either way. Talk about frustrating. It's not like I was asking them to please double check if this runny nose I'd been dealing with officially meant I had a cold. I was asking them about big fat scary things that were haunting my brain. I wanted to call up the neurologists myself and yell "For the love of god, please just answer my other doctors' emails."

The RN I was working with at my follow-up was incredibly sympathetic to this plight, and immediately pulled up all of the MRIs I had taken about a month earlier. I had never actually seen my MRIs, and it was really cool to look at my brain from all of the different angles and views. The nurse told me I had a beautiful brain (yay!) and pointed out the different areas where there would be big white spots if I did have MS or other stuff like that. Thankfully, my brain was spot-free! She took me through view after view, pointing out how different parts of the brain would look if you had MS, or ALS, or Alzheimer's, or chronic migraines, or what it would look like if tumors were present. I found myself breathing easier every time she flipped to another view and pronounced, "Wow, your brain looks great!" Maybe it was vanity, but hearing I had a beautiful brain was super awesome ♥.

When we were done scrolling through my MRIs, the nurse said, "Well, I'm not supposed to do this, but let's pull up the CAT Scans you just had done, and see if anything has come up yet!" Let me just say that I reeeeeally liked this woman. Only some of my CAT Scans had come through at that point, but all of the ones we could see were coming back healthy and normal. And, although I would really like some answers as to what the hell is wrong with me, I was glad to see that thus far my lymph nodes and whatever else they were looking at were lookin' good.

I have still not been contacted regarding the results of all of my CAT Scans. In fact, if it weren't for the awesome nurse in neurology who liked my brain, I wouldn't know anything about the results at all. I think I would normally be pissed off about this lack of communication, but I've been feeling a bit better, and a bit stronger lately, and I don't want to waste what little energy I have these days on being upset and angry. I have my first Physical Therapy appointment early Monday morning at the clinic, and while there I plan on leaving a note for my doctor to call me by the end of the day to talk about where we are going to go from here.

I am happy to report that although we are still no closer to figuring out what my Mystery Illness is, I have been feeling a little better each day. Today I even went for my first real walk! It was beautiful out, and I needed to feel some sunlight on my face. I grabbed my sweet cane, slowly hobbled down the stairs, and walked all the way to our nearest neighbor's house and back! Because I still walk incredibly slow, and because we live in the country and our neighbors are more than 50 feet away from our garage, my entire walk took me about 20 minutes. It kind of made me laugh that it took that long just to get to the Nelson's and back, but I was so stoked to have even done it that I gave a number of enthusiastic high-fives to members of my family before collapsing exhausted on the couch. Yes, I am still incredibly weak. Yes, my feet are still numb, and yes I still have to take frequent naps throughout the day. But I went on a freakin' walk today, and that is not something I was able to do several weeks ago.

While I still hope and pray every day that they identify what it is that has been attacking my body, I am incredibly thankful that I continue to feel a little bit better as time goes on. It helps give me patience, it helps keep me humble, and it helps give me hope. And it is this blend of patience, humility, and hopefulness that allows me to continue to believe that whatever this Mystery Illness is, I will beat it, and I will come out stronger than ever when it is all over. Yes, I will ♥.

The Mystery Illness Diaries: She Put the Miss in Misdemeanor

First published on April 10, 2012 at 12:20 a.m.

Lately I've been feeling a certain kinship to one of my favorite childhood PBS shows, "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?" That show was so awesome. You learned stuff from it, you chased after a world-class criminal, and it had ROCKAPELLA as its House Band. Okay, I just found a clip of the theme song on YouTube... Holy Crap. It's STILL awesome. I'll re-post it at the bottom of this update because it's totally worth watching. Bonus: I'd completely forgotten about the one duder's super sweet mullet-braids. It's a must-see ♥.

Anywho, lately I've been feeling like my body is The World and my Mystery Illness is Carmen Sandiego. And the doctors... they're the super smart Middle Schoolers that just can't seem to catch Carmen Sandiego, even though they're hitting the buzzers at the right time and wearing those awesome leather jackets. My Mystery Illness/Carmen Sandiego has been chased through the departments of Neurology, Infectious Diseases, Auto-Immune Disorders, Rheumatology and a few other places around The World. Currently the super smart middle schoolers/doctors think a clue to Carmen's whereabouts might be hiding in my lymph nodes. And so, a series of CAT Scans are in the process of being scheduled, per request of the middle schoolers from the department of Rheumatology.

My switch to this department came last Friday, when the Infectious Disease doctor I'd been working with called me and informed me that if I came in and had this once certain test run - and it came back elevated - we would finally have our diagnosis! Now, although I have always been famous for being a shinning optimist, five weeks of dead ends had led me to be Hopeful without Getting My Hopes Up. I guess you can say that I have begun to temper my Optimism with Realism, but have managed to do so without becoming Jaded. After getting off of the phone I went to the lab, had my blood drawn, waited for the results, and TA-DA! Everything came back normal. Even so, the ID doctor still wanted to try to get me in to see the rheumatologists in town. Why? Something to do with auto-immune disorders with a possible serving of musculoskeletal disorders on the side. When I mention the word "rheumatologists" we all think of "rheumatoid arthritis," so before you worry about that I'll say that thus far, no doctor has thrown arthritis at me as a possible culprit. I'm not really sure what exactly the rheumatologists are looking for, and in all honesty, until we get a test with conclusive results, it doesn't really matter. All we know now is all we have ever known: I have incredibly high levels of inflammation that continue to climb and suggest my body is fighting something, something that we might as well just continue to call Carmen Sandiego, for all that they have been able to deduce.

Interestingly enough, my symptoms have shifted around a bit. My legs felt stronger all last week then they had felt the entire month prior. And the numbness in my hands and feet seems to have ever so slightly decreased! However, the strength in my arms has gone down a goodly bit, and I've started dropping things. The spinal headaches seem to have completely ceased (REJOICE!!!) but I've started having chest pains and my mouth has suddenly erupted with painful sores that have turned eating, smiling, talking and yawning into harrowing experiences. So, overall I'm still suffering from various ailments, but the ailments themselves seem to be changing. Oh variety, you are the spice of life!

Thankfully, I think I've gotten a good grasp on the new eating-and-napping cycles my body has slipped into. As mentioned in my last post, I've found that I need to lay down and rest every few hours, even if I've done nothing but watch Hulu all morning. Rest Time has become a non-optional, crucial component of my emotional stability, and I have learned to respect it. Eating small meals/snacks frequently is also totally clutch. If I don't eat with a certain amount of frequency, I start to get dizzy, nauseous, sick and sad. In the same vein, I can't eat very much at one time. At best, eating a regular sized meal makes me slip into a total food coma (it's like every day is Thanksgiving!). At worst I get... really, really sick. Balance is the name of the game. And since the doctors are busy playing Carmen Sandiego, I spend a lot of time playing the Balance Game. It's like the one thing that I, CORY, can actually do for myself. Balance helps to keep the crying jags at bay. Balance also helps me appreciate the little things better. Take for example last Friday, when the test that was supposed to magically give me my mystery diagnoses came back "normal." Usually, getting said results would cause me to burst into tears. BUT, that morning, for the first time in a month, I had put my pants on WHILE STANDING UP. This is actually a pretty big deal. And I am not above treating my toddler-like accomplishments with the same positive reinforcement and reverence usually reserved for, well, toddlers. So, even though the results were once again inconclusive, I did NOT burst into tears because I had napped, snacked, and put my pants on while standing that morning. So yeah, those little victories that pop up throughout the day? That shit's important ♥.

Another important thing that happened today was that I had my first meeting with a social worker to help me figure out things like insurance vs. COBRA vs. Medical Assistance vs. Minnesota Care, as well as how to apply for Unemployment in the face of the eminent job-firing / forced resignation that is most likely going to occur this week (long story). I'm in the process of filling out various complicated applications for various programs that should be able to help me when my insurance runs out at the end of this month. I am incredibly grateful that I have the good people at the Lake Superior Community Health Center to help me navigate a bunch of previously uncharted financial waters. And a big fat special thanks goes out to Stephanie Hogenson for pointing me in their direction! ♥

At the end of the day, while I am obviously frustrated that the doctors are still stumped, I am grateful that I feel better than I did a month ago, grateful that I'm on the road to getting some much needed financial assistance, and grateful that I can manage my frustrations with the right balance of naps, snacks, and time with friends and family. My super awesome friends and family here in Duluth have been really wonderful about checking in on me frequently, inviting me to social outings, and even driving all the way out to my house to visit me when I'm too tired to make it into town myself. And all of you guys - your love and support has been HUGE. I can't say that enough. Let me put it this way - if my life has indeed turned into an on-going season of Carmen Sandiego, then you guys have, over and over again, demonstrated that you have the power to cheer me up as quickly as the Carmen Sandiego theme song does. In other words, you guys are like my Rockapella ♥. I really can't put it much better than that :)

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego by Rockapella

The Mystery Illness Diaries: One Month Anniversary

First published on April 4, 2012 at 10:47 p.m.

Happy One Month Anniversary to me! One month ago today I started losing feeling in my hands, feet, arms and legs. To celebrate, I had my first appointment with the Infectious Disease people downtown :) The good news is that the doctor I met with was very kind, a great listener, and incredibly thorough. He had rigorously studied my charts in advance and then asked me to explain in great detail everything that had happened over the past month. No detail was unexamined - he even questioned me about the air and water quality of the slums I worked in when I was living in Ireland (very poor, for the record), as well as what my life was like when I was living in Ecuador (although this conversation was relatively short, as my parents were able to smuggle me into this country by the ripe ol' age of about nine months ♥). Unfortunately, after listening to my entire life story, he was still completely stumped. He said that at this time he was not able to find any sort of "unifying factors" amongst my symptoms, which basically means that he couldn't think of anything that would explain all of the different stuff I've been going through. So, back to the lab I went, for more blood draws! I'm not sure what will come out it though, as most of the tests I'm having run on me this time are repeat tests... I have, medically speaking, sunk into a bit of a pattern. See doctor. Stump doctor. Have blood drawn. Wait 2-4 days for results. Everything comes back negative. See new doctor. Stump new doctor. Oh crap, it's the weekend, wait two bonus days for anything to move forward. Etc., etc. We haven't talked about Mayo again yet this week, but at this point I'm ready for them to send me down south whenever. If it takes world class doctors to get to the bottom of this mystery, then so be it. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get better, I just need someone to figure out WHAT is wrong with me so I can start my road to recovery. I'm working hard on being patient, because getting upset (which happens at least 2-3 times daily) does not really help anything. I'm trying to focus on my emotional health, since my physical health continues to remain a medical enigma. I've been trying to connect with friends at least every 2 days just so that I can socialize and have fun with people I love. I would probably try to head into town more but we live a ways out in the country, gas is crazy expensive, and I haven't been able to work in about a month. But still. I NEED to spend time with other people. I'm such a social person to begin with that it's important that I retain some semblance of a social routine in order to battle the I've-Been-Tired-And-Laying-Around-All-Day Blues. Today I met up with a friend who has also battled some major medical mysteries in her life, and it was so nice to just vent and compare notes :) I also had dinner with my wonderful running friends. I may not be able to run, but I can still at least hang out with the rowdiest group of runners this side of Superior ♥. I've also been paying attention to the new eating/sleeping cycles my body has sort of slipped into. I've learned that a few different times a day, I just NEED to go lie down for an hour or so to rest. At first I resisted this, because I haven't exactly been doing much that would require me to nap-up afterwards (watching all of this season's episodes of The Voice on Hulu isn't exactly taxing), but I have learned that my body needs straight up REST every few hours. Understanding this has helped to keep my moods more balanced during the day. I've also learned that I can't eat a lot at one time any more. My stomach can't handle the 3 Big Meals A Day routine our culture is famous for. At the same time, I need to have small snacks every so often throughout the day, or I start to feel sick. This is kind of ironic, because technically it is healthier to adhere to a smaller-meals-more-snacks routine. So, in a way, my mystery illness is making... me... healthier?? ;) Like I said, there's really been no developments on the Answers Front, but I am slowly learning better ways to deal with my current state of being. And, I appreciate everyone who reads my updates and sends me notes of encouragement as well. Writing these blog-like entries is actually pretty therapeutic for me. It helps me organize my thoughts and feelings into word form while simultaneously updating those who have asked to be updated. Oh, and I have missed a lot of phone calls and texts because I get next to zero service at home, so please don't think I've been ignoring you if I never seem to answer my cell phone. Because I'm spending a lot of time at home, if you want to get a hold of me it's almost always better to just try calling our land line first ♥. That's really all I have to say for now - I will for sure lay down another long-winded status update as soon as I find out any news :) Thank you all so much for your continued love, prayers, and support. Goodnight ♥.

The Mystery Illness Diaries: A Humorous Interlude

First published on April 3, 2012 at 9:03 p.m.

Me: "Ole, someone's here! They just pulled up, what is someone doing all the way out here this late at night?"
Baby Brother: "It's just mom, she's home from teaching... I mean, they're here to MURDER YOU."
Me: "What?"
Baby Brother: "Better run fast, Cor. Oh wait... YOU CAN'T."

Nothing like the love of your family to help you get through long, drawn-out, freak medical scares ♥.