TMI: My Body Hates Me

I was trained in undergrad to have a concept of "body-mind" to better myself as an actor. Most people address their thought patterns as being a state of "me" and the body being something separate. This is especially evident when it comes to body image. How often do we hear someone say "I hate my thighs/nose/elbows/etc."? The nature of this statement is that the elbows in question are somehow not a part of the entity of "I"... or at least, that's what my professor said. For actors, it's incredibly important to not be splintered in that way. Mind and body need to be connected in order to better portray anything through acting.

But I can't do that when I'm sick or in pain. I feel like somehow my body is attacking itself, or trying to disrupt my plans. My body is not me; my body is the enemy.

So here's a little trip into my body.

WARNING: If you don't want to read about my pains, potential medical problems, stomach acid, or reproductive cycle, stop reading now. I'm about to bust into some sketchy TMI Territory.


Okay, truth be told, a lot of my pains start out from a really strong body-mind connection. I break out in hives when I'm nervous. I get back pain (connected to my lordosis) when my self-esteem is low. I get headaches when I feel sad. And I get stomachaches when I have high levels of stress.

I've been getting the stomachaches since I was about 10. I finally had an endoscopy when I was 21. The doctor told me that I have gastritis, but no sign of anything else wrong. I have an over-production of acid in my stomach, but instead of having heartburn, it just eats at my stomach lining and duodenum. (See, this is why I threw on the WARNING up above.)

I was put on medication for awhile, but I didn't like the side effects. Since I wasn't getting them all that frequently, I decided to take my chances with Zantac 150s. I've been off prescriptions since around April 2006.

Around April of this year, my "stress stomachaches" as I call them (although they're not always related to stress) started coming more regularly. And one of them was excruciating -- easily in the top 2 most painful of my life (the other high-ranking one was around 1998 and was bad enough that I literally could not stand up).

I was in so much pain that I took my Zantacs, climbed into bed naked (because when my stomach hurts, the last thing I want to be wearing is underwear), and crying so hard that I induced a migraine. I felt so weak that I could barely talk or focus. It was awful, to say the least.

I chalked up the stomachaches to it being the end of the school year (stress). When they continued, I blamed them on the whole situation with Daniel being released from grad school.

In May, the days with pain far outnumbered the days without.

I have a low threshold for pain, but a decent tolerance for it. I think people often confuse the two, so I'll explain. I have a very strong sense of physical sensation, and I can feel things physically that are more slight than other people (if you don't believe me, ask my movement professor). I'm the kind of person who can feel an ant crawling on my foot. This is probably why I crave physical comfort and cuddling so much. It's also probably the reason that I have a low threshold for pain, which means that the point at which I feel pain comes much sooner than most other people.

That said, my pain tolerance is pretty good (far better than most, considering how easily I feel pain). For example, a friend of mine would take a day off from work if she had a headache or a cold, whereas I got hit by a car and showed up for work 32 hours later. I may be in pain, but I'll deal with it. If there's ever a time that people around me (aside from people I'm living with) can tell that I'm in pain, the pain is probably pretty significant.

When Daniel and I were in Disney World, I was having stomach pain all day, but I kept going. It somehow turned into chest pain, which I told Daniel, but we kept going. When it got so bad that I said I needed to sit down, he knew I wasn't messing around. After a call to my mother (a registered nurse), a visit to a health station, and an EMT hooking wires up to my chest, they determined that I was fine. The chest pain and breathing trouble probably occurred because I have asthmatic tendencies, and the fact that my heart was beating so hard and strangely was probably just because of the panic I went through because of the breathing issues. I spent some time in a wheelchair (with Daniel pushing me around and me feeling miserable) and was advised not to go on Expedition: Everest (I think Dan was disappointed, but he acted like it wasn't a big deal). But by the end of the day, I was an extra on stage in the Indiana Jones show and had taken my first ever drop in the Tower of Terror (what can I say, I'm a daring woman).

By the end of my time in Florida, I was having a lot of abdominal pain, but it wasn't in my stomach (by the way, your stomach is up near your diaphragm, under your ribs). It didn't really feel like cramps, either, although it had been a long time since my last period, so I assumed it must be something like that.

I won't go into specifics, but my menstrual cycle is freaking weird. Thank goodness I'm not sexually active, because if I were my life would be filled with pregnancy scares.

Anyway. So I came to Connecticut, and had my mother (i.e. my personal assistant -- my mom is awesome) schedule me all sorts of appointments. Gynecologist. Internist. Dentist. Ophthalmologist. Dermatologist. The works.

My cycle has continued to be really freaking weird since I've gotten home. Meaning that I got it the day after I got home (May 25th) and, guess what, I have it now (June 9th).

I've had stomach pains every day since I've gotten home. Bad ones that won't go away. I've talked to my gynecologist, internist, and father (he's an ob/gyn) about them. The pains move around. Sometimes it seems like an ovary, sometimes my pancreas, sometimes my bladder. My internist suggested that I might have a "spastic colon" (which, up until this point, I thought that Tennessee Williams had made up for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof).

My gynecologist said that I seemed fine, but that due to just how irregular my cycle was, she wanted me to have blood-work done to see if I have a thyroid problem or Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (as soon as I told my dad that, he said, "Yeah, I've thought that you might have PCOS for awhile."). My internist added a blood test to check for gluten intolerance.

I woke up around 6am this morning with stomach pain and my period. I was supposed to have an ultrasound today, but they won't do it now because I'm on my period, so I have to wait for another week. Fantastic.

In the meantime, I've been told to take 800 mgs of ibuprofen with food every 6 hours (which, so far, are doing nothing). And I've spent most of the day laying in bed.

I wish I knew what was wrong with me. I wish I could make it go away.

If I do have PCOS or a thyroid issue, I'll probably have to go on some sort of hormones or birth control or something (which is not something I want to do, but it sounds like it's my only real option).

Anyway. I'll keep you posted.


May your body not mysteriously rebel against you.

~A~


P.S. Despite being in bed all day, I booked another stage managing gig for Thursday-Saturday (let's hope I'm up and about by then!), and I got an interview tomorrow for a jewelry store that's just about to open (wish me luck!). Maybe my bed is a lucky place to be when it comes to employment? I'm going to chalk that up as a Feng Shui win!