Showing posts with label mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mystery. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Invisible No More

by Dr. Margaret Aranda 

2/5/2014: Featured as Contest Winner #2 for story on "Health Care: Social Media Review".
Focus: Emotional and psychological effect of medicine.
I'm ROARING for all of us, so keep up the fight! Share! Tweet!
Be proud that we are hitting the media again!


There are millions of women (mostly) who are young and sick. They are my friends. They don't have cancer or leukemia, and it's not all in their heads.  They have diagnoses that are not "usual".  They have Invisible Illnesses that stump the doctors over and over again.  They are disabled, unable to get out of bed, unable to take a shower, unable to shop for groceries, unable to don a pair of high heels and go out on a date on a Saturday night.  Some of these girls may have good memories of a Prom night, but many won't, because they were too sick to go.



Most of them were previously healthy, many of them were previous athletes, and virtually all of them are misunderstood.  Doctors, parents, friends, and neighbors are frustrated because everything looks okay on the outside. My friends are tired of hearing, "But you look good."

They complain of being unable to stand up without fainting (dysautonomia), being unable to eat without throwing up (gastroparesis), they have no energy for daily living (mitochondrial disease), they have severe fatigue (Lyme's Disease, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), excruciating pain (fibromyalgia), or they are severely tachycardic upon standing (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS).  They have unexplained and severe headaches and nausea (Chiari Syndrome, Intracranial Hypertension, and Hydrocephalus), extremity pain (Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy), they vomit when they smell your cologne (Multiple Chemical Sensitivities), they have fatigue and fevers and butterfly rashes (Lupus), and they can't walk (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). Some have peripheral neuropathy (diabetes, idiopathic neuropathy), chronic pain requiring narcotics, and some have abdominal pain with menstruation (endometriosis).

Some went to 30 doctors and waited 15 years before getting a diagnosis.  Never mind how much money they spent.  And I do mind that some still don't have a diagnosis.

No one really knows what it feels like to live in a body that doesn't listen to normal commands; only the girls and ladies living in them really know. I know. It's like turning from age 30 to age 80 overnight.

I know because I was there.  I was them.  It was me.  I lived on a PICC iv line for over three years with dysautonomia, or dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system. Battery to battery, and drip to drop I lived. How ironic for an anesthesiologist, a Stanford-trained anesthesiologist and intensivist who should have been watching the drips go into my patients, not into myself. And they gave me up for dead, yet just like you, I pressed on. I argued. I fought. I was one of the lucky ones that went to the door of Heaven and had the choice to go in, or to return to earth. I wanted to raise my daughter, so I chose to come back. But never mind that. This is about you now, because I am better. My love for you abounds.

I don't know why I got to recover, why I got to live.  Why I got to get better.  But I'm never going to forget you women of great strength and tenacity.  I was you.  I am you. You are me.  I am one of you, and I always will be. I will never leave you and I promise that I will strive, for the rest of my life, to keep you front and forward in all my efforts. Anyway, how could I ever forget you? Your friendship kept me alive; your prayers kept me breathing. We co-existed in a symbiotic relationship.

That love is saved up from hospital notes I wrote with my brain injury; it is there forever for any one to see: No More Tears: A Physician Turned Patient Inspires Recovery.  You can Read Chapter One Here.  I take you to the door of Heaven with me, so read it in a quiet place. I want you to know that when I go, don't cry for me. Because I won't be crying for you. I'll be in that place where the lion lays with the lamb, where there are No More Tears. I felt it, I know where I'm going when I die, and my mission on earth is to continue to love you unconditionally. You have my word on that.

You'll be glad you read this book, because you are not alone and you never will be.
P.S.  It's not just for women.  Men are greatly affected by these diseases, too.


Epilogue: In January of 2013, Dr. Aranda was examined by a neurologist who thought she was faking illness. When he had her stand up and put her feet together, he told her to close her eyes. He said he would catch her if she fell. He did not, and she fell to the hard wood floor, away from him. She suffered another TBI with DI, and remains mostly bed-bound and disabled again, just as she once was before. Dr. Aranda continues to advocate for invisible disabilities including diabetes, and has several patents and trademarks on Preventive Medicine products to help halt the devastating complications of disease.



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To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:
http://drmargaretaranda.tateauthor.com/other-works/
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For Additional Memoirs, Please Click Here:

Age 31: The Color Blue
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No More Tears en Espanol
Face Book Page: Stepping from the Edge
Little Missy Two-Shoes Likes to go to School
From Menarche to Menopause: A Journey through Time


To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Additional Free Articles by Dr. Margaret Aranda

Medical Disclaimer: Nothing on this website is meant to diagnose, treat, or practice medicine. You must be seen in person by a physician for appropriate and individual medical treatment. If you have an emergency, call 9-1-1 in the USA.

Link Disclaimer: We are not responsible for any links that go outside of this website.

Full Disclosure: Margaret A. Ferrante, M.D. presents this information for education and awareness.  













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Friday, October 19, 2012

Age 17: Working Working Working


A Fiction Story by Dr. Margaret Aranda

This is Day 17 of the October Memoir and Backstory Blog Challenge, which is something about a 17 year old.  To catch more on this, please visit  Jane Ann McLachlan. To start reading Articles from Age 1, Please Click Here: Age 1: Sitting on the Edge

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I was 17 and I had an apartment of my own.  I paid $235.00/month for rent, I went grocery shopping on my own, and I didn't have a car.  I took the bus to school, and I got a ride to work afterwards.  From there, I also got a different ride home.

McDonald's was my first job.  I was the French Fry girl.  I heated the oil, dumped the frozen fries in that huge net, then slowly watched the sizzle as they dipped into their torturous death.  I loved the smell.  I hit the timer, made a few soft drinks, then pulled the fries out when the alarm went off.  Then I lifted them up and dispersed them under the hot lights, scooping them up into those red cardboard boxes for consumption.  When the bag of frozen fries was empty, I walked around the back, past the grill where the guys were flipping hamburgers, and wondered if they ever spat on the burgers for a Customer that made them mad.  I never asked, and I never saw them do it.  I carried out the next 20 lb bag of frozen fries to my station, over and over again.  I ate Fillet-of-Fish sandwiches for lunch just about every day, and I've never eaten one since.  After about 3 months, I left McDonald's to go to Cosmetology School.



I never entered Cosmetology School to be a lifetime hairdresser.  I did it so that I would never have to work at McDonald's again, and for the rest of my life.  My day started at 7:00 am.  I was out of the door and sitting in Cosmetology School by 8:00 am.  Bill and Greg picked me up, and we were together in the car one morning when the radio blasted that Elvis was dead. The school smelled like perm solution, hair color, and it had an aura of the 1950's.  I had my own mannequin that attached to the table, and I rolled her hair in perm rods so I could get credit for another perm.  I had to do 500 of them to graduate.

The school decor was black and white flooring, and a hue of pink for the walls.  Golden sconces dotted the walls, and I developed my own following of Customers that bought me gifts at Christmas.   I stared at the walls when the teacher lectured, wondering what my life was going to be.  I needed 1600 hours of schooling at at the rate I was going, it would take me 18 months to complete.  Afterwards, I would sit for the State Board of California Cosmetology Exam, which was two parts.  The first part was written, multiple choice.  Too bad it wasn't an Essay, I thought.  I studied all the muscles of the face out of my Cosmetology Book, and my instructor Mrs. Tanterra walked by and told me that they would never ask me questions on that for my Board Exams.  I looked back down at my book and decided that I liked the muscles of the face anyway.  I liked the Anatomy.



Cosmetology school was from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm.  I went straight from there to do telephone soliciting from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm, and have people hang up on me all the time.  I was populating the San Fernando Valley with appointments for quotes on Central Air Conditioning, as the heat was scorching and lots of people were burning up.  I was good at it.  I made calls in The Tank, made full-time money for part-time work, tracked my Leads, and befriended a lot of Elderly people. It was a good experience.  Even though some people blew a whistle in my ear.

So I worked and I worked and I worked.  Time went by, and I was stayed in Cosmetology school.  It felt good.

I survived.
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To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. Margaret Aranda's Books:

No More Tears en Espanol
Face Book Page: Stepping from the Edge
Little Missy Two-Shoes Likes to go to School
From Menarche to Menopause: A Journey through Time



To Order Dr. Aranda's books, please click here:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


For Additional Memoirs by Dr. Margaret Aranda, Please Click Here:

Age 31: The Color Blue


__________________________
Additional Articles by Dr. Margaret Aranda

Medical Disclaimer: Nothing on this website is meant to diagnose, treat, or practice medicine. You must be seen in person by a physician for appropriate and individual medical treatment. If you have an emergency, call 9-1-1 in the USA.

Link Disclaimer: We are not responsible for any links that go outside of this website.

Full Disclosure: Margaret A. Ferrante, M.D.  is an Institute Physician with Cenegenics Medical Institute.  She receives no monetary compensation for hosting this website you are on, which is independent and not affiliated with Cenegenics. The information presented is for education and awareness.  Dr. Ferrante currently sees patients out of the Cenegenics office in Beverly Hills, CA. 
To book an appointment for a free Consultation, please email her at: mferrante@cenegenics.com

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