Yep, trial time once more. Treatment for Bob is basically a dose of medicine with a side of guess work. What works for one doesn't work for another and may in fact create even more problems than what Bob can throw your way. Joy.
Those of you who have read my blog for a while will know about my war with the Mestinon beast last year (you can revisit the insanity here, here, here, here, here, and here). Now I did manage to slay it in the end, but it was a hard fought battle and led me to an unexpected and very unpleasant relationship with my porcelain lover, so I am less than excited about yet another foray into the unknown. (Reading that back I realise that I sound like I have lost touch with reality a bit, but it does make sense, really it does).
Midodrine, like Mestinon, is like one of those relatives from "that side of the family". You dread when they come to visit and know that if you don't hide the silverware and your wallet, you may end up with a $5,000 credit card bill linked to something called "Busty Asian Babes", and searching for grandma's silverware in a grimy pawnshop.
For those of you who are new or simply can't be bothered going back over past posts (not judging, just being realistic), Mestinon had been implicated in Gulf War Syndrome, YAY. Though on a positive note, if ever there was a nerve gas attack in my lounge room I did stand a better chance of survival. See silver linings can always be found, and I am silver linings girl. For example, when I heard that Johnny Depp didn't bathe, my first thought was what a great chance to offer him a sponge bath. Silver linings people, sliver linings.
Now my new bestie Midodrine, has it's own delights. If you lie down within 4 hours of taking it you risk stroking out (luckily I get to take it 3 times a day). Yep, obviously that makes it the top pick for someone with Bob, cause I never need to lie down. Bob symptoms vs potential stroke. Hmmm what to choose? These are choices we are forced to make at this point in the cutting edge of Bob research. Now I am still trying to find the silver lining but I'm sure it's there. They are small so no big horse pills to swallow. And they are colourful, little sunset orange pills, and I like colour. Okay so they may be pretty crappy silver linings but I'm trying people, I'm trying.
So far I've had no run ins with my porcelain lover, and that is a good thing. Lets face it hooking up with an ex never works out well. However the excruciating headaches, exhaustion and chest pain are a little off putting. Yesterday I had to go to the train station and by the time I had reached the ticket box I felt like I was having a heart attack (no exaggeration involved), which really wasn't all that pleasant. Considering I was overtaken by a little old lady with a granny trolley I'm guessing it wasn't that strenuous a walk. This does not bode well for my plans of exercising.
I wont bore you with the trials of even getting this
On a brighter note I was recently asked to be a writer on a new group Dysautonomia blog called DARE: Dysautonomia Awareness Rarely Experienced. I am joining a group of fabulous ladies (still unclear why I was asked but hey I'll go with it, until they realise their mistake and bring out the torches and pitchforks), from all over the world, different ages and backgrounds. The aim is to raise awareness, to provide a central information hub and an unrestricted voice for those on the Bob journey. I will still be contributing to the fabulous 12 More Pages, so now I just need to find the extra braincells and energy to get myself organised.
So in the words of the brilliant Monty Python (yes I'm going through a Monty Python phase), I'm following the philosophy of Always look on the bright side of life.
(Some days you gotta laugh even if you make an ass outta yourself).
So bring on the Camembert.
The Lab Rat Michelle :)