Be Truthful to your Doctor?

 

Are we truthful to our doctors? How has medicine changed over the years?

What is your doctor like? Do they listen? Do you hear what they say? 

I was having a long discussion with my elderly friend in the southern US. She grew up with old school medicine and seems to have an old school doctor. Or their healthcare is different in the deep south. 

My MIL was old school too. She didn't like to see the doctor and listened to her friends for medical advice quite often. If Silvia had The Gripe and took a particular kind of medicine, then maybe she had The Gripe and should take the same stuff. They traded symptoms and came up with solutions themselves. 

Later in her life, she decided that the More She Doctored, the better off she was. Especially if they gave her more pills to fix everything.

I'm guilty of what happens these days. I look things up on the web because we all know that we can cure ourselves on the web.

Some of the older generation never bother to ask the doctor what is going on or perhaps they are afraid of asking. Doctors know everything right? No, they don't. But sometimes getting a doctor to have a real conversation, is like a Mission Impossible Movie. 

My friend struggles when seeing her doctors. I don't think she interacts with her PCP. Or perhaps she can't remember what they were talking about. [She has told me that her memory is very bad.] When she tells me about her visit, she complains that no one told her a thing about her ailments. If she gets a new medication, she can't recall why and refuses to take it.

I asked her if she told her PCP about her frequent falls and dizziness. Or about the fact that she felt lonely and depressed?

Um, no, not really.

She said if she told them about her depression then they would call her mental and put it on her record. Therein lies a stigma. Depression = Mental? She is in her late 80's and won't share with her PCP because she feels she would be judged.

If she told the doctor that she has frequent falls they may think she needs help. She said she had dizziness and the doctor ordered blood work. She was angry because dizziness is only dizziness and she knows that her ears need cleaning because her Grandpa had flaky ears. It won't be in her blood work, she needs a specialist.

The last thing I discussed with my elderly friend was that it was okay to tell your doctor the truth, because they were not mind readers and couldn't figure out what might be ailing her if they didn't know she was feeling poorly.

"Do you mean you are truthful with your doctor?"

I was a bit shocked. "Yes ma'am. I do."

I studied for two years to negotiate the ins and outs of doctor visits so that I could code the visits with diagnosis codes for billing. Even I know that humans are incredibly interesting creatures that are still a bit of a mystery for doctors.

And yet here we are trying to find answers.

And yet there is the doctor visit. 

Sometimes it seems as if you are going 'round and 'round on a merry go 'round with no way off.

Humans are not straightforward in their thinking or their ailments.

Hey, I heard walking was good for you.... and....

What next??

I know I have harped on my Severe Osteoporosis diagnosis since last September. It struck me very hard and I was stunned to find out that my stupid body had failed me. I did all sorts of tests and a full work up. Heart, lungs, BP, eyes, and blood work came back pretty darned good for an old fart.

But my basic construction was falling apart. 
I started to worry about hikes, about the normal things I'd been doing all along. Suddenly they felt like huge issues.

It has messed with my mind to say the least. My osteoporosis score in the low lumbar region was 2/10ths of a percent under a 99 year old frail person. I was nearly off the charts in a bad way.

The consensus was to start taking bone building medications. The first line was a generic form of Fosomax. After three months, the meds and I didn't get along. Fast forward to the second medication, which I didn't do well on.

In the mean time, I went back to the CrossFit gym for some Mobility Classes. I needed the exercise and gentle stretching. The class is geared to any aged person and improves strength and balance. Well, that is, if you stick with it.

Here is a photo from one of the classes. See? CrossFit isn't a bunch of burly dudes running around throwing weights and beating their chests. It can be so much more. I'm on the left and a good friend of mine is on the right. The Mobility Class has teens to elderly adults in it. 

Yesterday, I had a phone visit with the Endocrinologist. We discussed medications and the pros and cons of the medication called Prolia. It is an injection once every 6 months. The downside of the medication is that at the end of 10 years of this medication, you have to take another medication to prevent relapse.

It is complicated. Prolia builds the bone and keeps the cells from breaking down. It is a monoclonal antibody.

We discussed the fact that so far, I've had no fractures anywhere in my body. She attributes that to my activity level. 

I asked if I could take a reprieve from medications and try a different route for a while:
hiking - low impact - free weights - balance and mobility exercises. Good diet with milk for calcium and foods with vitamins in them.

I explained that the medications worked backwards on me. I had a hard time staying physically active.

She thought this was a good idea and she said she was very open to it. 

Note: This doctor listened to me and explained the benefits of the medications along with saying that new meds are being found all of the time that may help. She didn't speak down to me. She didn't get that air of being far superior.
She even said that it was my body and this felt like a good short term plan to see if I could improve things a bit on my own.

So here are a few things to consider. I signed up to go back to the gym for Mobility Classes and some personal training to tailor exercises for my specific needs.

I was asked why would I spend that money like that? 

Easy.
The cost of the exercises at the gym are far less than medications cost and far less than physical therapy costs.

The benefits for me are multi faceted. I live with a shut-in who doesn't socialize. I get exercise and social interaction at the same time. Plus I suck at doing exercises at home on my own.

Bonus points: It helps my mental and physical well being.

The Turn of Events Or Two Tests

This is an update to the previous post and I hope to give some folks some hope.

The Rapid Test was Negative.
Rich's classic symptoms screamed Covid. So much so that the doctors felt the test was wrong and asked for another more complicated test. Covid protocol came into effect. Of course now most every hospital I think practices some very strict PPE. 

However they did treat him as an infected person and therefore I was an infected person most likely.

I had to return to the hospital twice for things they needed. The CPAP and then a list of medications. Yeah ... this is why the person who is the CareGiver should be present.

Also they should know how to use the VA's 'Veteran's Health Information Exchange' to look up his meds and current health notes. I will not judge them for these two issues because I know our tiny hospital is over run. So I printed out a copy from his Pharmacy list and took it to them with how he should take the meds. 

The nurse called me later in the afternoon as they are very busy. She said 'We are going to remove the Propranolol from his meds and cut back on another med.'

I said to her that Propranolol was removed by his PCP a year ago because of adverse side effects, it drops his heart rate severely. This too exists in the VHIE [electronic health records].

She said 'Well it was prescribed in the ER.' 

OK. One more reason to have someone who does CareGiving there for the patient. 

Again, not really the nurse's fault, but a fault of the overburdened system right now. They probably thought it was prudent at the time. I told the nurse of my husband's health history. The Cliff Note version. 

I discussed the pain med that they were withholding. It was prescribed for his Major Depressive Disorder or MDD. 

She told me that Rich never could tell her exactly what hurts but everything hurt so bad. I said Bingo! MDD! You have a patient with severe depression and by withholding that med it causes him pain AND withdrawal pain.

See me visually smacking my head with one hand while trying not to get angry.

Test #2 finally came back. He is not Covid-19 positive. But he is a perplexing case. Wonky heart rate -- so much pain, not able to get enough 02, and some other things. 
She remarked that he had asked for a DNR order and it was noted. 

I told her I wanted a clear picture of what was his diagnosis. They get a bit hesitant with that stuff so I told her to look at the HIPPA Consent form under Richard's Living Will paperwork she had on file [in his chart].

I wanted to know if he was stable enough to come home even if he had to stay in bed. Did he need an IV for fluids? Were his lungs clear? 

She made notes. She couldn't give me an answer.

I was polite and professional. The poor woman started her rounds in our little hospital at 7AM. She got her break to call me at 2PM.

Humans are odd creatures. My husband is one such creature. I've been his personal health advocate for 24 years. I even have a degree in Billing and Coding and nearly switched over to Pharmacology. I have a background in commercial and health insurance, billing, and coding. I am very serious about taking care of my husband at a hospital that is really not equipped for what he needs. Again, not their fault. I do believe it is an excellent facility.

It is not staffed with people who understand veterans with Mental Health issues. The best place for him is to be surrounded by vet nurses and veteran staff, but that hospital is full.

My course of action is to hope that a bed opens up for him soon or he becomes stable enough to come home.

The nurse said he was pleasant and she really liked him. 

About 15 minutes later she called me back. She had the pharmacist with her and needed to go over a few things with me. I pulled up my chart and read off the answers for her.

So in conclusion, they are treating him for symptoms that parallel Covid symptoms. But don't have a clear picture of what is going on. His fever is gone.

At first yes Covid, then not Covid, then similar to Covid.

The only good thing to know after all of this ... is that all my extreme precautions have been working. 

Another observation. When I brought his CPAP and later his meds to the hospital, I did wear a mask and tell the person in reception that I came from a home of a suspected Covid-19 patient.
That poor girl's eyes went deer in the headlight white and she went back for gloves and a Bio Hazard bag to put my chart in.

I was a Witching Pariah, or something to that effect.

We are living in a very strange world right now. 

Last but not least I am starting a Suck Box. More on that later.

February thaw and?

What a difference a day makes!

and...
Sunday...

I know, slightly different views, but there you are!

and then...

I didn't go very far yesterday, my knee is troubling me. I know I probably shouldn't have done the 22 WOD on Saturday, but it was for a good cause and it was a lot of fun. We had a great turn out at the gym.
I have a bruise of the patella and it makes certain hiking movements a bit difficult in deep snow and ice.
I don't think it is more than that, but we'll see.

Charlie was a champ and hung around close by while I did some long exposure photography.

Friday was another day spent at an ER, but at least we had some more answers than last Friday.
MDD or Major Depression Disorder are the initials of the month. MDD can manifest itself in so many ways.
However we may have come up with another temporary and mild 'fix' for a while.
I must say that the VA nurses and doctors are much more understanding of a veteran who has mental health issues as well as physical issues. Our local ER and doctors are not quite as well versed in this area. Rich's psych doctor was also on hand.

That said, I am spending more time inside right now just doing my monitoring 'thing' for Dr. Schiffman. And I can say there is a slight improvement.

So this is my favorite shot from yesterday. Mossy rocks kissed by a bit of sunlight ... with a little bit of ice on the moss that had not yet melted.

Life and death and decisions...

Frightful weather!

Overnight it snowed again. More snow/drizzle stuff. I spent about an hour last night cleaning out certain areas with a shovel. I had everything exactly how I wanted it and then...
it snowed again...and drizzled.

I saw an electric snow shovel on another blog I follow and thought that was the cat's meow until I realized that I'd have to keep it plugged in and a cordless one would operate for 25 to 30 minutes.
I almost considered a snow blower but only for about 30 seconds when I saw all the instructions and gas mixing stuff.
Ok, not a choice for me.

I'm still thinking of a little plowing machine type 4 wheeler job. It would get all the flat areas I needed cleared and a tiny bit of shovel work would do the trick. IF there was a blizzard and a few feet of snow, well that is different sort of story.

The weather this morning is not good so I'm not going into town until it settles down. There is supposed to be an icy mix of 'stuff' moving through.

I spent the day at the hospital with my MIL again yesterday.
I discovered that I actually do have a heart in my body. I've been accused of being too unemotional in the past and I admit it. I usually don't let emotions get in the way of pragmatic thinking.
I put 'the job' in front of me first and don't get all emotional and upset as that doesn't help the thought process.
But yesterday I sat and watched the nurses and lab lady pull blood as MIL cried out and kept crying. I wondered exactly how on earth was modern medicine helping?

Congestive Heart Failure along with Kidney Disease progresses to organ malfunction, fluids in the lungs, and a rather long list of probable outcomes. Death is the last outcome and it is unavoidable.

MIL struggled hard for air and she literally sounded as if she were gurgling.

Two members of the family had been asking if they should come. One is further away and would require a flight.
They didn't ask me though as my reply would have been 'I am at a loss as to why you haven't already come before?'

So I struggled with being the only relative there and I was the daughter in law.

I fetched a warmed blanket after the gals had gone, a CNA said she could put it on MIL.
I said, "No! I'll do it. This way she can feel me tuck her in and put my arms around her. I'm family, it is much nicer to have a family member tuck you in than a stranger."
The CNA smiled and handed me the blanket.

And as I tucked my MIL in and she groaned with delight, I felt my heart fall to pieces.

I was grateful that there was no one else in the room to see my tears or feel my heartache. Me, the ever stoic person.

And I felt anger at the daughter who had said that she didn't want to see her mom until after she had passed because it was too stressful for her.
I thought of the opportunities that the family members had passed up in the last 8 months of seeing MIL happy, clean, well fed, and chipper at the nursing home. I thought of the funny things that MIL and I have been sharing. And I was very angry and then very sad.
And then I felt grateful that I had taken the time to be with her. That I had visited.

And then I thought how much I would miss her too.

I sat back to watch her fall into a much more comfortable sleep.

And before I left for the day I wondered this awful thing.
How we as a human race will let our pets pass on when they are so ill and in so much pain.
But we won't/can't let our chronically ill people go ...or just keep looking for treatments to prolong suffering?

I'm really not a cruel person. I just can't see going through momentous efforts that cause pain and only have the same result in the end.

I am so very glad that Rich and I put together Advanced Directives and Living Wills in place. I know my son will make sure that they are carried out if I am not able to implement them.

Storms inside and Out

Last week was a blur. Did we really have nearly 65 degree weather and then have a snow/ice/rain storm come in that lasted from Wednesday to Friday?

Ice bombs smacked the house with high winds in the middle of the night and Charlie and I were positive that we'd have trees or something awful falling in on top of us at any moment.
In the morning when we went outside the winds were ferocious and we still had to 'dodge' the falling chunks of ice.

I knew that after the storm settled down, I'd have a lot of work to do checking the fencing and perhaps pulling large chunks of trees off the electric fence.

The weather service had said we'd get a tenth of an inch of ice. Hmmm.

Well, no wonder we were suffering ice bombs from the trees! I reattached the fence and cleared ice off the lines after the snow/rain stopped. 

I knew the snow and ice wouldn't stick around very long and I was right. By this morning it was gone.

I spent Monday cleaning up most of the debris that was left over in the yard. 

Depression is like a storm too. It is internal and can't be seen. It can swallow a person whole and those around them in a vortex of darkness....

Yesterday we had to go see Rich's old Psychiatrist. Okay, the guy isn't old. It was a doctor he saw for a long time. Dr. S. left the VA and went to New Zealand for a while and returned.

At the last appointment with Dr. Todd, ... Dr. Todd asked Rich if he'd like to see Dr. S again. We jumped at the chance.

Dr. S 'gets' Rich and they have a good relationship. Dr. Todd is fine, but he doesn't seem to 'understand' Rich that well and how could he from just reading his file and knowing him for only a year.

Let me say that the appointment yesterday gave me a bit of hope to help Rich get out of this horrible slump of depression. 

I like to believe in... hope.

Rich is in that horrid hell hole of a black hole where there is no bottom and no top. No light, no hope.

They are doing another consult to see if another Ketamine infusion will help and this doctor feels that he should have them on a more regular basis and not just a once off.

Dr. S put it succinctly. 

"Your body has betrayed you, your mind is not letting you focus on thoughts and you are in there fighting each moment of every day trying to find something. Trapped inside with no light at all. It must be pure Hell."

And this afternoon? 

More storms of the rain/thunder/lightening kind.

You are my Sunshine

I was throwing hay over the fence when I noticed Sunshine hadn't come forward. She was hanging back. I continued feeding hay and kept an eye on her.
She was one of those mules that just barged in making sure that everyone around got out of her way when it was feeding time.
She isn't aggressive, she just pushes her sister or others with her neck and shoulder to move her or any other mule.
Sometimes Sunshine tries to push little ol' Fred around and Fred won't have it. He lays his ears back and squeals at her. She backs off.

She avoids 15 as she tends to bite and kick.

Sunshine turned her back on the hay and laid down.
Uh oh...
In a moment she got up and walked into the group. She put her muzzle down into the hay but didn't take a bite. She was damp on her sides from laying in the melting snow. I walked around and did a quick check up on her. She didn't seem to be in distress.

I went in the house to set up a computer for Rich so he could do his Speech/Memory Therapy with the VA therapist. We sat down and had coffee and watched Sunshine out the window.
I waited until I connected Rich to his therapist and then explained that I was headed out because we had a 'sick' mule. Sunshine had gotten down and wasn't getting up. I decided to catch her and walk her.
I grabbed my stethoscope and headed out the door.

I got Sunshine out of the pasture and she seemed slightly interested in the grass for a nanosecond. Then she just lifted her head and looked off into the distance.
She wasn't bright eyed and her ears were slightly cool to the touch.
We began to walk.

Down she went.

Have you ever tried to move a mule that simply has decided NOT to move?  Her ears were cold, that worried me.

I finally got her up and took her inside the shed to the large round pen. At least she'd dry off and I could hopefully get her to keep moving.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and asked Google to find Veterinarians in my area. I wanted to call Apple Valley as they knew my mules and had treated Sunshine's mother years ago as well as Siera and Mica.

What came next was what was to become my worst nightmare. They would call me back.
When they did, I was told that the doctors were unavailable, one was on vacation and the other was out with a herd of cattle. They were very sorry could I call around?

I asked Rich to start making phone calls.
And he did.
One Vet said he could come out on Monday.
Another said they were not able to come out until after 5 pm. Rich kept calling...

Sunshine walked a bit and then as if she had turned to rubber, dropped to the floor of the shed.

You can see how she covered herself in dirt and just stayed there. I checked her gut sounds...and

at one point I heard nothing...
and then I heard some faint gurgling.

I kept trying to get her up when she laid flat out. Her heart beat was elevated slightly but she didn't seem to be breathing exceptionally hard. I felt her ears and they were warm again.

I took my fingers and tried a trick I'd done with puppies to make them go poop. I massaged around her rectum. I had no idea if it would work. Either by chance or design, she struggled and stretched and a huge gaseous fart erupted.

Okay. I stood up and cheered.
Sunshine groaned and stretched out again on her side. She shook her legs and I finally got her up.

Rich came out to tell me that a vet was coming from Muscoda and would be here in an hour or so.
Sunshine flopped down again and moaned. I asked Rich to get me some warm soapy water. He prepared that while I prepped a makeshift enema. Epsom salts and warm water. I dabbed a plastic syringe into petroleum jelly and headed back out the door. I soaped up her bum then inserted the plastic syringe and pushed the warm Epsom salt solution into her rectum.
Sunshine didn't even pay attention to me. There was no glow in her eyes. And for a while I thought it was a futile effort.
I couldn't get her up, so I soaped up my hand and reached in. I found dry poop her rectum and carefully pulled it out. Behind that was a nicely formed stool. When I pulled out my messy hand more poop came out. I cleaned my hand and then her bum.
She turned and looked at me.

I got her up again and she walked a bit longer. Then down she went.
A bunch of curse words went through my mind as I knelt by her head.

She closed her eyes and slowly seemed to fall into a deep slumber. I decided to let her rest and not disturb her. After all she may have been up struggling with a belly ache all night and perhaps, just perhaps she was exhausted.

Smart phone. Huh. I typed out a search *How long can a horse sleep on its side safely?* I read through the posts and decided to just let her sleep, if that is what she was doing. Sunshine was not struggling, nor was she breathing hard. She was dry and her ears were warm. I sat next to her head and watched as her eyes closed and her breathing got slower and slower.

I held my breath.
Oh please let this not be her last moments. And then: If it is her last moments, I will be with her.

After about 15 minutes which felt like eternity, Sunshine snorted and rolled up
onto her sternum. Her ears twitched and with her eyes wide open she lunged to her feet and shook.
I was on my feet next to her.
I listened to her sides and heard gut noises.

Sunshine laid down again. I left the round pen discouraged. I needed a quick drink of water and I wanted to see if Rich heard from the vet.

When I came back out to the shed not 5 minutes later, Sunshine was up, ears perked forward and she nickered at me. Be still my little boney heart!

She pawed at the gate. Wow, I thought, what a sudden turn around.

I heard a vehicle coming down the driveway. I figured it was the veterinarian. I greeted her with a huge smile saying, "I think our patient just had a break through! She is standing and alert!"

Doc examined Sunshine and pronounced her out of danger. She got a shot of banamine for the stomach pains and Doc suggested I get some from her to keep on hand. Swift weather changes like we'd been having or food changes were generally suspicious for causing colic in equine.

While we were talking, Sunshine walked over to the bucket I'd brought in to sit on and knocked it over. She was behaving like her normal mule self.

Sunshine...Sunshine...my little red molly mule.

You are more special to me than you know!
[The photo is of me about 19 years ago holding Sunshine in my arms moments after she was born. Cheyanne was my mare.]

I paid the vet and she instructed me on how to use the banamine I'd purchased. Doc gave me some helpful tips on colic which included the very things I'd done.

Doc said she'd rather come to a farm and see her patient recovering than to see something more hopeless. She was all smiles as was I.

I am happy to report that Sunshine is feeling just fine. She became Miss Cranky Pants when she realized that she'd been separated from her friends and suddenly she was starving..and Cranky.

All kidding aside.
I feel very lucky to have Sunshine in my life.

Thank you Dr. Mary from Riverdale Vet Clinic.

Colonoscopies and Refrigerators...how fun.

No one likes to talk about that procedure. It is simply, well ... not dinner conversation at all. Whoever invented the prep was an evil sadistic person. However, it must be done to get a good clean out.

I had one 10 years ago because of some issues I'd had and it was time for the next one ... 10 years later.

My first one went quite well and except for the prep there was no pain or anxiety.

However this one? The prep went well. 

After all, who doesn't love Gatorade mixed with Miralax? It wasn't as bad as GoLYTELY. In the 'end' I was passing Gatorade lemon/lime colored stuff which was clear of debris. [Isn't that a nice term?]

I saw the doctor after the nurse tried to get in an IV. I winced as she dug around and then had to pick another spot.

I thought, "No, this will all be just fine. Really. The first time was so easy, this should be the same."

I heard someone down the hall hollering "Ouch ouch ouch OWWWWWW!" I didn't pay it much thought until much later.

Into the room we went. Mild sedative and the doctor started. Soon I was whispering out "Owww!" "Hey that hurts!"

The RN at my head said, "It's okay."

I replied, "IT is NOT okay! Ouch!"

I watched the scope fly through my innards and when the doctor hit a curve it felt like an internal baseball bat hit me. "JEEESUSSS, what the Fu--?"

Finally the doctor said quietly, "Almost at the end."

It felt like I was rammed.

Then I watched the scope exiting out.

I gritted my teeth. If I hadn't been sedated, I would have ripped out the painful IV and started swinging. 

My end result by the doctor was, "It is great, everything looks good!"

I asked her point blank in the recovery room. "Then why did it hurt like hell?"

Her answer, "You have a lot of twists and turns in your colon."

"Well that was more painful than it should have been."

She patted my leg and left the room. I threw nasty think darts at her back even though I was starving and slightly floaty. I swore she'd never ever touch me again. In 10 yrs if I was due up again, I'd drill the doctor about their procedure.

The cartoon? Yeah, I agree with that one this time. 

Crapping Gatorade poo and getting beat up inside was not a good day for me.

Tuesday was: go to Mom in Law's to help her out with cleaning her fridge. I did the grocery shopping and came home. I still felt ... pardon the pun. Crappy. My lower intestines hurt still, perhaps from the wild rush of the scope through my bum or perhaps I was bruised inside. It hurt. Or it was the gas she blew me up with lingering and causing discomfort.

I called Mom in Law and told her I needed one more day of rest before tackling the HazMat Tainted and Dreaded Fridge Job.

I will go today to the apartment with dire trepidation.

I've grown strange science experiments before in my own fridge, but nothing quite compares to this....

One must face adversities in life.
Be strong.
Be very strong.

Dang it All to ...

Well dang it all to heck and back.

I'm not going to really whine about this too much. Hmmm. Maybe I will. It seems that osteoarthritis has crept into my life. Well at least into my hands.
I of course figured that it wouldn't happen to me.

Stupid me. I sort of knew it would. My Grandmother Pearl had twisted gnarly hands and she barely whispered a word about it. I'd see her gardening, crocheting, sewing, and doing all those normal things with her beat up hands. At the time I admired those well worn hands and said something to her about it.
In all her infinite wisdom that I never learned...she replied, "Oh I don't think you want these hands. Some days they don't do so well."
She said this as she was artfully cleaning a fish with quick skilled movements.

My mom began to suffer the same fate as did her sisters. Arthritis crept up on their hands deforming them and sometimes twisting the joints.

Over the past year or so, my hands began to ache a lot. Certain movements hurt. Grasping things was painful. My left thumb continued to hurt making grasping door knobs a real chore. In fact when we remodeled, I had handles put on the door that I could just push down on.

Opening a jar can be tricky. Using an old fashioned can opener can be a trying feat. Over the winter my hands became worse. I developed Herberden's Nodes on the ends of my fingers. As those nodes develop, the pain is quite intense. I recall my father showing me the tips of his fingers and telling me that once the bump was formed, it stopped hurting, so it wasn't so terribly bad.
Oh, he was not kidding!

So this summer those wonderful little nodes pretty much quit hurting and I was able to get along except for the thumb issue. Sometimes at night, I'd fall asleep with a cold pack wrapped around the left hand. It numbed things enough so I could sleep.
Peeling apples for apple crisp last month made the pain nearly unbearable. So I decided to see how I could process apples without causing myself a lot of pain. Easier to make jelly, juice, and apple sauce than to peel apples.
Plus I got a food mill which helped tremendously.

Brushing the mules out for riding was even a bit difficult, but I decided worth the pain.

I sort of knew what may be going on with the hands. Goodness knows I've seen it in my grandmother, my mom, and my dad. However my fingers are not being deformed much.

So when my doctor and I looked over the hand X-ray results, I was sort of surprised. There it was osteoarthritis in both hands. No fingers were left unscathed.
The left thumb showed degenerative joint 'disease'. Oh. Ick.
Mostly it means that the hands will slowly get a bit worse as I get older.

Now dammit, how did I get older? In my mind I am about 30! I look in the mirror and see that older person looking back at me. She disappears when I take my glasses off. She looks much younger after I take a shower and peer at her in a fogged up mirror.

My doctor recommended that I see Occupational Therapy for exercises to strengthen my left hand and to see how they could suggest non drug like therapies to lessen the aches and pains. I am all for that. Our local clinic has an excellent PT/OT department and they have helped me quite a bit in the past.

How am I going to 'deal' with this? Well, now that I have a name and a cause for the pain, I will not quit doing things or baby my hands. The pain is not indicative of something that will harm me.
It is simply wear and tear. I need to work out how to do some things smarter and need to be aware of the "Use it or Lose it" theory. If I stop doing things with my hands, or I stop being active ... I will be in more pain and more health problems will arise.
If the body stops moving, it will destroy itself.

My doctor said that if the thumb issue got too bad she would send me to a hand specialist to explore injections [eeks!] and perhaps surgery [eek gads! NO!]. She said she had a patient who went through the surgical procedure and the recovery and PT time took about 6 months. No thank you!

This is not earth shattering but it will include some minor changes for me.

Yes, I think my father was correct. Aging is not for sissies.