And so it goes… feeling foggy but hopeful

So a couple days ago (Wednesday) I got fed up with being bedridden for the most part, decided I’d confront this chronic head inflammation head-on (no pun intended) and walk to the store.

I got outside, down the steps in front of my building, about half a block up the street and took a tumble.  The pressure in my head just got too much.  An elderly couple walking their poodles across the street dashed over and helped me up.  Um, I love older people—the older I get the more I notice how they look out for one another.  They insisted on walking me back to my building, on the elevator and back up to my apartment.  I didn’t resist, was just too grateful.

I immediately filled my bathtub with Eucalyptus bubble bath and steaming hot water (it seems to calm things down, I’ve been doing this 2-3 times daily) and called my doctor’s office.

They asked what was going on, I told them about my fall and how I’ve been in a steady decline since my last appointment on February 28.  I’ve pretty much been bedridden this past month.  The attending physician there asked if I’d followed the prescribed treatment (antibiotics, daily Flucosan and neti-pot rinses, sinus sprays) and I said yes, but my sinuses were swollen, ragged and burned constantly, and I never had any congestion in the first place.  Just persistent, crushing pressure in my face.  She said “Stop using those products effective immediately.  I’m having everything sent over to the ER, get yourself admitted as soon as you can.”  

So I went to Mercy Hospital, along with my friend Erin (who stayed with me the entire night).  When it comes to friends, she’s as special as they come.

The doctor who talked to me was pretty special too.  Seriously, I felt like I was in excellent hands.  He said “Douglas, we have you here—let’s find out what’s really going on!  We’ll do bloodwork, CT scans of your brain and sinuses, set you up with an IV and a migraine cocktail.”  

Soon my head was swimming, but in a good way.  They did the bloodwork (to check for infections) and the two CT scans.  While waiting for the results, the doctor said “I see on your file that you think you know what this is.  I  want you to spell it all out.  I got plenty of time, so take your time.”   Jesus I almost busted out crying!

I told him about recovering from covid a week before Christmas, and this all starting a month later.  I spent my nights reading up on “long covid symptoms”, and read multiple accounts of people dealing with chronic inflammation and intense cranial pressure, and how it affected some people’s sinuses.  Many were getting misdiagnosed with sinusitis, and their headaches were ignored.  I thought that’s what happened to me.

He was writing a lot of stuff down (I figured it was something like “this patient is cuckoo”) but returned later with the CT results and said “Ok, your sinuses are in rough shape but only in a superficial way.  You have no sinusitis, probably never did.  Your bloodwork is fine and your brain shows no lesions or tumors.  But there is frontal lobe inflammation.”

He went on to say that he thought my long-covid diagnosis was correct, and that when the body is infected with covid, some areas (like the lungs, heart or brain) can go into ‘chronic overdrive’ and continue fighting the virus even after it’s gone.  He was going to prescribe gabapentin, an anticonvulsant that ‘tamps down’ an overexcited brain.

He asked if I was experiencing any brain fog, I said no.  He said “Well… you will.  You’re going to be taking 8 pills a day for the first 30 days, we’ll reduce the dosage if things improve and stay there.”

And so it’s been a couple days, and I’m sitting here in my living room on a quiet Friday morning.  I haven’t been up this early in over a month.  When I got up today and went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, I began to feel the familiar pressure bearing down in the front of my head, like a cinder-block.

But instead of feeling it’s jagged corners in my temples or the roughness of the concrete, it feels like the block has been wrapped in an angora sweater.  My face still feels pulled taut on one side and pretty sore still, but I almost like this drug’s dizziness.  I feel a bit ‘dumbed down’ and I don’t mind.

I’m very sorry I haven’t been keeping up on others blogs and such, but I’m convinced things will be normal again soon.  Thanks very much for letting me share.