You could spend hours looking at old photos of Japan. (via, via, TYKIWDBI first seen via)
I've been on immune system suppressants, for the lupus, since August. I wasn't tolerating the first drug (methotrexate) too well, so my doctor is having me try the next least horrifically toxic drug on the list.
All well and good, as these things go, but I managed to catch a cold last week.
Despite having been chronically ill for the last decade, I'm not used to being sick, at least with infectious things. My super-powerful immune system doesn't mind taking time off from attacking me and dealing with pesky little germs. In general, people with autoimmune disorders like lupus tend to get sick more, because they are weakened by their immune systems' constant attacks. I have not found that to be the case at all, but that may be about to change now that my immune system is artificially subdued.
Along with learning to deal with the whole concept of being sick-with-germy-things, I am having to learn a whole new set of cues as to when I should go to the doctor. My old standard of going to the doctor was basically color-based: if something green comes out of your body, you have an infection and you must go get antibiotics. That was about it, with a corollary for sore throats and coughs.
However, this standard no longer applies when your immune system isn't doing its job. I discovered that many of the things I think of as symptoms of disease are in fact the effects of my immune system doing its job. Like green stuff: byproduct of immune system killing things. Fever: immune system creating inhospitable environment for attackers. Likewise, fatigue, body aches, etc.
So I caught this cold and except for a horribly runny nose, I didn't feel sick at all. I figured I was just suddenly allergic to dust, perhaps through the agency of the immunosuppressant. My temperature was quite low. I felt more inconvenienced than anything else. I went to the doctor anyway, because I didn't know whether my usual practice of waiting for it to go away on its own still applied.
The doctors took the cold much more seriously than I did. I got antibiotics, prescription antihistamines, cough medicine, lectures about how "You have to stay home from work and rest and drink chicken soup. How do you expect to get well?" (But I'm not really sick? And if I'm going to feel kind of crappy and be bored, I might as well go to work?)
I've taken my medicine and a couple days off. I still don't feel any better (or worse) than I did before. I cleaned the kitchen sink, read books, got more vacation pictures up (we went to Vermont in September), and got ahead on my cooking (the freezer is full of dinners and lunches).
I'm kind of bemused (and disturbed) by this business of being sick without feeling sick. I'm going back to work tomorrow. I don't think I'm sick anymore …