Another day, another diagnosis

 

It feels like it has been another über long week between writing blog entries, yet it has only been 7 days. It is amazing how many “events” can take place in such a small period of time, yet they do, unrelentingly so.

This week I had another hospital appointment, ENT or Ear, Nose and Throat to the uninitiated. It has been years since I have been seen in this department. I was here again, for the same investigations for the same condition Menieres Disease

I have been suffering with severe bouts of vertigo since I was a teenager. The bouts were far enough apart not to raise any red flags and were diagnosed as Labyrinthitis, a viral ear infection that causes symptoms of vertigo. The attacks at the time would come on with no warning at all. I remember one attack came on when I was sat on the toilet. I must have been about 17 or 18 at the time, because I had to call in sick to work. My memories of this event are crystal clear, the whole bathroom was spinning in front of my yes and all I could do was grip onto the toilet, terrified that I was going to be flung off. Embarrassingly I had to shout for my dad to come and rescue me, as I knew that there was absolutely no way I could walk unaided from the bathroom back to my bedroom. It must have been really awful because at 17/18 there is no way I would have wanted my dad to come into the bathroom whilst I was using it.

The attacks went away as quickly as they had arrived and I thought no more of it. Then in the early 2000’s they came back, at the time I put it down to all sorts of different things such as forgetting to take my antidepressant that morning, stress etc. I never went anywhere without a packet of Stugeron a travel sickness medication. I would take it at the first sign of an attack and it seemed to work. At some point in the 2000’s the dizziness must have got worse and I had a referral to ENT. This was due to my family history of meniere’s disease, my maternal grandfather suffered from it. The appointment at the hospital sticks in my mind due to the dismissive attitude of the doctor I saw. At the time there was no problem with my hearing (I had audiology tests conducted) and my balance was ok (I was asked to walk across the room with my eyes shut). I left the appointment feeling disbelieved and belittled. I never raised the issue again until 2012, my first blog post which gives it a brief mention was in 2013

I visited the doctor in  the summer of 2012 as I had horrific dizziness which was causing me to fall over. The doctor I saw diagnosed me with Eustachian Tube dysfunction. The attacks of vertigo came and went but I noticed that I now had an increase in Tinnitus that I had developed in 2011. The gp suggested that if the attacks didn’t die down I would need grommets. Luckily the attacks went away again and left me alone until February 2015. 

From 2015 onwards I have been battling regular attacks, which came 2-3 times a week. They left me totally drained and exhausted, although the vertigo would last just a few hours the after effects would knock me out for 24 hours. By June I had, had enough. My own doctor was away so I could only get an appointment with a locum doctor. Feeling confident that I was speaking to a doctor with no preconceived ideas about my inner ear woes, I raised the spectre of Meniere’s disease. Having done some research before the appointment I knew my symptoms fit with the condition completely. The locum was receptive to this idea and she was the one who told me I needed to take the Betahistine regularly to reduce the excess fluid in my ear. Initially it seemed to work and my ears lost the feeling of fullness they had been having for months. I started to feel a lot better than I done for a while. Then within a matter of weeks the attacks became worse again, occurring every few days.

When you have so many things wrong with you already it can be hard for people to accept that you have yet another part of your body deciding to do its own thing, even those closest to you. It can make things really hard when you are already facing disbelief from the medical profession. So when the day came for the ENT appointment I was filled with dread and was prepared to have a fight on my hands.

Hubby took me to the appointment at the local hospital, it was in a different part of the hospital and it was so completely different from any other area in there, we felt like were on another planet. The staff were friendly and helpful, patients were not  treated like a major inconvenience to the staffs social lives. You know where you wait patiently at the reception desk whilst the staff finish their non-work related conversations before dealing with you. Everyone introduced themselves by name and shook your hand!!! We have never been treated like that in this hospital.

My only complaint would be that the waiting room was less than wheelchair friendly, over filled with chairs making parking up and waiting difficult to do without causing a major obstruction. It is a problem I have found in most departments in the hospital, which seems a little illogical as you would have thought a hospital would be the best place to accommodate those with disabilities.

Before seeing the consultant I had to have a hearing test conducted by an audiologist. I was expecting it to be like the ones I have had before where you tap the desk when you hear the sound. Hearing tests have evolved over the last 10-15 years, you now get to push a button. The test had only just begun when my stomach started to rumble the loudest it has done in years. Of course being the audiology suite it is the quietest place in the hospital. I wanted the ground to swallow me up, I was so embarrassed.

The first test was done with headphones on, each ear was tested with noises over a variety of frequencies. You can sort of guess when the noises were coming as they come in sets of three. So you can imagine my consternation when I knew I should be hearing something and I couldn’t. I wanted to press the button, pretending that I had heard it. However I knew in my heart of hearts my hearing wasn’t as good as it had been this time last year. The volume of the radio that I listen to at night had been increased from level one to three. It is now so loud that my neighbours next door have claimed to have heard it. The tinnitus has increased to such a volume that it is becoming difficult to hear things over the constant ringing and I can no longer stand being in complete silence because for me silence doesn’t exist anymore. 

I am constantly trying to tune out the tinnitus, it is very difficult of those of you  who do not have tinnitus to understand what it is like. Many of you will remember a time where you have stumbled out of a nightclub or rock concert and had ringing ears because of the loud volume you have been exposed to. You know that the following morning the ringing will be gone. For me it is never gone it just goes on and on and on. The only time I don’t hear it now is when I am asleep. It is like a kind of psychological torture and I am well aware of the fact that tinnitus has driven people to suicide. Although mine is irritating, I don’t feel that the only way I can escape it is to end my life. However if it increases in volume much more I know it is going to be difficult to live with.

With the second test they place a small speaker type device behind your ear, so it is vibrating on the bones of your ear rather than the noise transmitting through the ear canal. The third test is the same except on the opposite ear they place a headphone playing white noise. To me it sounded like a babbling stream and quite pleasant. The same noises were played again but you actively have to ignore the babbling stream noise to hear them. I had to close my eyes for this part of the test to be able to concentrate on the noise in my right ear. It was bloody difficult!

At the end of the test the audiologist told me that my hearing although normal in both ears was vastly different in my right to my left ear. The left ear was at the top end of normal, really good hearing. My right ear however on the low-frequency noises was bumping along the bottom end of normal. He asked me lots of questions about why I had been referred to the ENT department, so I explained about the vertigo attacks, immediately he asked if I felt dizzy getting up / standing up. I explained that as I have low blood pressure, yes I did but the vertigo attacks were very different. When I have low blood pressure I feel giddy but the room doesn’t move (like when you get the spins from having one too many glasses of wine). With the vertigo attacks the room spins, I can’t move because I have no balance and I feel hideously sick. I told him I knew the difference between the two. He accepted that  and then moved onto the subject of tinnitus.

He told me although my hearing in my right ear was still considered normal, he could issue me with a hearing aid. The hearing aid would be used to increase the volume of the ambient noise around me to drown out the tinnitus. I didn’t realise how dead against a hearing aid I was until the words spilled from my mouth. I told him I already had too much going on with me, I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that yet another part of my body was defective. He understood where I was coming from and said it was something we could revisit in the future should the volume of the tinnitus continue to rise.

We then went back to the waiting room as I would see the consultant once the audiologist had been through the results with him. I didn’t know at the time that my audiogram was showing the classic signs of meniere’s disease, a reduction in the low-frequency range of hearing. Despite my hearing essentially being normal there was a marked difference between the two. Having since googled Meniere’s I have seen the audiograms of someone with Meniere’s and can see that mine was a textbook example. I wish I had known this at the time because I was very anxious waiting for the consultant, however I have known tests show abnormalities only for them to be ignored by someone higher up. I knew that nothing would guarantee that the consultant would agree with the audiologist.

My ENT consultant was a very lovely man, it was clear from the outset (looking back) that he had all he needed for a diagnosis from the hearing test. He did however go through the same questions with regards to feeling dizzy “was it when I stood up, did it rely on a position, what were the attacks like” etc. He then did his first test which was to poke me in the eye with a small piece of cotton wool. I was glad I had used waterproof mascara after that one because my usually painfully dry eyes ran and ran. This was to test my responses / the function of the cranial nerves. They were all normal, which was what I was expecting. He then got out a tuning fork and tested that I could hear it in various places, including the top of my head. The last test was whether the pitch of the tuning fork was the same in each ear. In my right ear the pitch was just ever so slightly different, which left me confused. It was also louder in my left ear than my right ear. I had no idea what the results would mean and whether there would be more tests to follow.

Having given him the history of how long I had been suffering with bouts of vertigo at the start of the appointment, he gave no preamble and just came out with the fact that I was suffering from meniere’s disease and that I had probably had it since I was a teenager. I sat in shock not because of the diagnosis but due to the lack of hoops I had, had to jump through to arrive at it. I had fully expected to be fobbed off with that it was part of my autonomic nervous system dysfunction or that it was Eustachian tube dysfunction. I hadn’t expected to be taken seriously because lately the doctor’s I have been seeing seem to have reverted back to disbelieving what I am saying, telling me that there is nothing additionally wrong. It made me quite angry as you can imagine but not nearly as angry as finding out that I had been put on the wrong dose of betahistine, it should have been at least double what I was taking. It acts as a preventer of Meniere’s attacks, I could have avoided those months of misery if someone had just treated me seriously.

It makes me sad that despite having what I thought was a good relationship with my gp and my hospital consultant that they had only been too happy to ignore my concerns when I had told them I had become much sicker this year. In August my gp had told me he wanted to take me off the betahistine because it would mess with my ability to balance naturally the longer I took them. At the time I told him I would wait and see what the ENT consultant had to say in September. I am glad I stood my ground because I was told to immediately double the dose I had been taking. He also wanted the gp to prescribe me Buccastem for when the nausea was bad during an attack. The one thing I had been begging for since February was an anti- nausea medication. He went through a whole list of medications which he would be writing to my gp about. He wants me to have them at home so that I can play around with them and work out what combination has the best results.

The consultant told me that Meniere’s can burn itself out but as I had been suffering with it for over 20 years this was unlikely. The main triggers for attacks are Stress (that is a big yes from me) and if you are ill (or for me sicker than normal, that is another yes). He told me that the hospital I attend has a specialist Meniere’s surgeon who if needed would operate on me should the medication route not be effective. I have to be honest after receiving confirmation that I did indeed have the condition the rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur.

When we left the room the healthcare assistant who had been in the room with us pulled us to one side. She asked me if I had ever filled out this form – the form she showed me I had never seen before. She explained it was for patients with “special needs” such as physical, visual, hearing, learning difficulties or if you were at risk from falls. Once completed it meant that your notes were marked with a sticker that let those treating you know that you could need help. I explained that I had been using a wheelchair since 2008 and not once had anyone shown me this form. She was visibly shocked that no one had ever thought to get me to fill in the form. It would hopefully in the future mean that doctors / other healthcare professionals wouldn’t be surprised by me turning up in a wheelchair and that should I need assistance I would get it. Like I said this ENT department was run like it was on another planet and should be congratulated for being so on the ball with everything. I am no longer surprised that the walls were filled with positive thank you cards / letters. The staff really made an effort with everyone and treated them respectfully.

I was exhausted after my trip to hospital and ended up fast asleep well before 17:30. I am still in a daze about the diagnosis and still very angry that my dizziness had been so easily dismissed by all but the locum doctor I saw in June. It seems that despite fighting so hard for a diagnosis from 2007 until 2011, that I have to continue to fight to be heard and validated. Obviously I had no clue that my prolactin was raised I just knew that my system (body) felt out of kilter, I did know however that my dizziness was much more than just the giddiness you can get with dysautonomia. I am not searching for new labels to apply to myself, just decent treatment. What makes me more angry is that my hearing could have been seriously damaged by my doctors sitting on their hands and not referring me. I have said before in blog posts I am becoming increasingly concerned that patients are being ignored more than ever when they tell a doctor they know that something is wrong with them. How many patients will end up having serious conditions missed because doctors are unwilling to have new labels applied to them?

P.S

Currently still no MRI results.

 

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A blur

The last week has gone past in a blur, not due to its speed but due to the fact I have been barely conscious throughout it. I remember up until my MRI scan (Tuesday) but after that everything is hazy.

I have spoken to people, seen people but have no recollection of the events as I spent last week either asleep or in a dream like state. I have never known anything like this. I have had extraordinarily vivid dreams and I have acted out my dreams for the first time in my life. 

 

One day last week I awoke to find my bedside telephone placed in the bin. I recall dreaming about the phone being broken and needing to be thrown away. It wasn’t until after some hours of being up that I remembered the dream about the broken phone, I checked in my bedroom bin and found the phone in there. It scared me, I wondered what else I had done whilst I had been asleep. Had I taken extra medication? Had I wandered the streets in my nightwear? Who knows I have no recollection of most of the events whilst supposedly awake last week. So I am sorry if you spoke to me last week and I didn’t seem my normal self. The simple answer is I wasn’t and I have no idea why.

 

I am particularly annoyed that this happened last week as hubby was on holiday, so my sleeping or being semi-conscious had a massive impact of the time we would have spent together. I have lost count of the number of times I fell asleep on the sofa whilst watching a film or chatting with hubby. I don’t tend to nap during the day unless I am having postprandial hypotension episodes and they have been fairly controlled for quite a while now. I avoid carbohydrates and try to eat a high protein diet, which seems to reduce the amount of episodes I have.

 

Hubby asked me at one point if I was avoiding spending time with him as my behaviour was so uncharacteristic. When I fell asleep on the sofa for the umpteenth time he realised the situation was beyond my control. I assured him I wanted to stay awake, I simply couldn’t.

 

I haven’t slept like this since 2007 when I first became ill. Even then it wasn’t as bad as what I have just experienced. The sleeping is deeply frustrating but the lack of understanding from others is more so. I’m tired doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel. The word fatigue doesn’t seem to sum it up either. It can only be described as like a wave that washes over me. It doesn’t matter what I am doing, when it hits I am unable to function immediately. My body feels heavy, my legs are like lead and i have to lie down. If I don’t lie down I feel I will fall down. If I am supine when it happens, I just immediately drop off. There is no fighting it like you would normally do if you were tired. There is no fight in me to overcome it. I suppose it is a little like being administered a strong sedative, it can not be suppressed, it envelops you, there is no escape.

 

When I am awake I am barely with it, I am going through the motions. My normal routines exhaust me meaning that I am forced to sleep after just taking a shower and again after getting dressed. Life in this state has not been fun for anyone in the household. Visits from friends have been cancelled and the phrase “I’m sorry, I am just too tired” has been uttered countless times. I hate cancelling, not being able to hold conversations or remembering anything I have been told. My brain has turned to mush.
Yesterday (Saturday) was a cause to celebrate after sleeping 16 hours out of the previous 24 meant I managed to spend the day awake. The first day in the week that I had managed not to have at least 3 naps. I seem to have one day where I feel relatively awake, one night of barely any sleep (I woke up at 1am), followed by several days of being barely conscious. I did try to get back to sleep but just couldn’t and I find it frustrating to lie in bed for hours on end, when the time could be used more productively (blog post writing).

 

Two days on I am back into the cycle of existing on 4 hours (or less) of sleep. I do not feel particularly tired. There have been no naps since Friday however there have been countless bouts of ptosis lasting for hours at a time. There seems to be no happy medium at the moment. Sleep seems to be an all or nothing affair. My health is still in the toilet.

Life seems to be on hold whilst I wait for the MRI results of the tumour (benign) hunt. I have researched ways of lowering my prolactin levels naturally should the need arise, you never know how these things are going to play with the doctors. Despite all the evidence (the medical papers I have read) stating levels over 2000 (mine is 2629) should be treated, some doctors still like to play it safe and not treat. This is mainly when the levels are causing no symptoms, I do not fall into that camp. I have a whole host of symptoms that are causing me no end of problems. Facial hair being my current obsession.

Despite all the sleepiness there was cause for a little excitement late Sunday afternoon when my neighbour rang to tell me that there was a bird of prey in her back garden devouring a wood pigeon. She asked me to take a look as she knows that I love identifying birds, a hobby I have had since I was a girl. It was as we say in Britain, pissing down with rain, yet I didn’t care. I got hubby to drag the step-ladder ( a small two step affair) so that I could stand precariously on it and take a nosey over the fence. Amazed I saw a Sparrowhawk (for info / pictures click this link) shredding the unfortunate wood pigeon.

The birds at our feeding station had been suspiciously absent for a few hours during the afternoon and I had wondered if the Sparrowhawk was on the prowl. I knew we had one flying about locally as I had seen it perched on our garden fence one morning. I was no more than 10 feet away from it and was in complete awe at it. It sounds stupid to people who don’t understand the thrill of seeing a bird of prey up close (or for me any bird I haven’t seen before or in a while). It is a kind of heart stopping experience, you can’t quite believe your luck and want to share it with everyone you know. So here I am boring you all with it.

It is the smallest things in life that give you the greatest pleasure. I was feeling very down after spending the week mostly sleeping. The sight of the sparrowhawk has lifted me. 

My MRI

Today’s blog post will just be a quick one as it is Wednesday (tomorrow is publishing day) and for the last week I have been hammered by migraine after migraine.

They seem to have shifted now and I know that they have been caused by the stress of the situation I find myself in. Whilst the medical profession play hunt the possible tumour (benign) I find myself living in limbo, putting on a brave face for everyone around me when really I am shitting myself. I have a million “what if?” questions going around in my head and no one is able to give me any answers. 

My husband is also putting on a brave face but I know he is worried about me, he is losing his temper at the slightest provocation. He isn’t my normal hubby but someone who is struggling with his emotions. I hate the way my health problems screw him up. I feel dreadfully guilty and despite my reassurances that I am about 80% certain they will not find a tumour and the raised prolactin with be idiopathic (without a known cause) because that is the way my medical history plays, he can not help but worry. I understand that he is struggling and so am I. We struggle on together, supported by those that we love.

Last night I had my MRI scan, mine was the last one of the day at 19:10pm. I was unable to sleep the night before and ended up getting up at 1am. I did manage to have an hours nap late in the afternoon and actually felt a great deal calmer when we got to the hospital.

Everything went smoothly, the cannula for the contrast dye went in first time (practically unheard of but I know of a decent vein on the back of my right hand), I got the technician to give me a surgical glove filled with warm water to help the vein come up. The MRI itself was the longest one I have ever undergone and the platform that I was lying on was shaking with the sound of the machine as it took the images that they need. Halfway through I was injected with the contrast dye. For the next series of scans they checked I was ok and not having an allergic reaction to it. They did say that reactions to it were pretty rare but they had happened and that they were equipped to deal with it. The two staff dealing with me were exceptionally nice and made me feel relaxed which is always a bonus.

I really loath head MRI scans due to the fact your head is wedged with blocks to keep it still and then you have a plastic cage thing placed over the top which contains a mirror so that you can see the technicians doing the scan. Rarely during the MRI’s do I open my eyes, I can cope better when I have them closed. I get quite panicky when I open them. I don’t think it is claustrophobia, its more an issue with masks and things on my face. I had a major operation as a small child and I think a mask was placed on my face before they sent me off to sleep. I have had a weird reaction to certain hospital smells and stuff on my face ever since. I can’t even snorkel because having the mask over my eyes and the tube in my mouth makes me start to panic. I have no control over it, I feel like I can’t breathe (despite logically knowing I can) and I need to rip the stuff off my face and just move away from where it is taking place. Having my head strapped down, with the cage over my face provokes the same feelings.

I managed to focus myself on the music I was having played during the MRI. I went old skool with U2’s The Joshua Tree, this was the first CD I ever owned. I tried to keep control of my breathing all whilst clutching the emergency button as if my life depended on it. Over all I am pretty proud of how well I did, I was in the scanner for around 35- 45 minutes, which at the time seemed a lot longer.

The only drama we had last night was that the cannula site wouldn’t stop bleeding. We had made it from the X-ray department to the main hospital corridor when I felt something dripping down my fingers. A quick check proved my suspicions right and it was blood. It wasn’t a big deal but the gauze that I was using to apply pressure was now about as much use as a wet tissue. We headed back to the department, it was deserted as everyone was packing up to head home. We stumbled across another technician who was very helpful, giving me a great big pile of gauze and taping it onto my hand. I knew it would stop bleeding eventually and it was just more inconvenient that frightening. All that was needed was more pressure and to keep my hand up on my chest to help stop the bleeding.

We eventually got home after 9pm and I crawled into bed shortly after that. I am exhausted today and can see other than writing this post very little else happening. My results should be with my consultant in 5 days and with my gp within 20 days. Hopefully somewhere in between I shall find out if I have a tumour or not.

On a lighter note I would like to wish my mum a very happy 60th birthday. She has always been my blogs biggest supporter and I want to thank her for that. I hope you have a lovely day and I am looking forward to seeing you at the weekend. Love you xxx

Another Grey Area……

Last weeks blog post stirred up a lot of emotion in me, I didn’t realise just how angry I was at my treatment at my last hospital appointment. 

After writing that post I had received a letter stating all my hospital blood tests had been normal. Showing no signs of any inflammatory markers, so there was no explanation for my tiredness or hirsutism or increased joint pain. So when I retrieved a letter from the hospital out of our mailbox on Saturday morning, I really wasn’t perturbed. We have a mailbox as the three mutts like to shred our post given half a chance. I have so many hospital appointments on the go at the moment it feels like quite a juggling act keeping track of them. The contents of the letter sent me into a tail spin.

The letter was a copy of the one that my hospital consultant had sent my gp and one of the blood tests was far than normal. To shut me up and prove me wrong (because he had accused me of looking for syndromes on the internet) the dr had tested my prolactin levels. I had suggested to him that maybe it was possible I was suffering from PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome), it runs in families (my sister has it) and it would explain my weight gain every time I ate carbs, the facial hair I was growing, acne and my periods deciding to come whenever the hell they wanted despite me being on a progesterone only contraceptive pill. I had brought this up with the registrar I saw back in February and my bloods had only now been tested for it.

I could have quite easily been one of those patients whose symptoms are missed because their doctor thinks they are trying to collect labels / syndromes.

The letter read;

“It is interesting to see that Rachel’s prolactin levels are high at 2629mu/l. There is no evidence of macroprolactin. This is out of keeping with polycycstic ovary syndrome and it may well be her menstrual irregularity is secondary to her high prolactin at the moment. I had better get an MRI scan of her brain organised and will do this forthwith and copy the letter through to her so she knows what is going on.”

*for USA readers to convert to ng/l divide by 10.6 which should give you the figure of roughly 253.

Immediately I was sent into a panic, I knew that high prolactin wasn’t good as an internet buddy had just had an investigation with her levels being half of what mine were. She had asked me to find out about prolactin. I had done a quick search and knew from doing that it meant Pituitary Gland Tumour. I was alone, it was a bank holiday weekend so all my friends were either working or a way. In a fit of panic I called my parents who were nearby at their caravan and explained the letter to my dad. Well actually I probably freaked out on my dad and said my blood tests show I might have a brain tumour. I went into full on drama mode because I knew a little and not enough.

Looking back over the Saturday what has annoyed me more was the fact my consultant knew that I knew high prolactin meant the possibility of a tumour, it was sent by 2nd class mail over a bank holiday weekend where if I wanted / needed to speak to someone medical I would have to wait until the Tuesday. It was thoughtless. I know he has no control as to when the letter is sent but to send out a letter like that in this day and age where information good and bad is at your fingertips is just wrong.

My parents arrived without warning around 20 minutes after I made my call to them. I am extremely grateful. In that time I had googled quite a bit (and I have googled quite a bit more again). The information I was getting was conflicted. In the USA a figure of 250ng/l or more is what all the articles say is highly suggestive of a tumour. In the UK all the articles say levels over 2000mu/l need investigated but only levels over 5,000mu/l mean there are a tumour. So it would seem I am in another grey area……again. Could be a tumour might not be a tumour.

Normal prolactin levels are <400 (if like me it has taken you forever to work out what those arrows mean, its less than). Between 400-1000 is classed as mildly elevated, 2000+ is classed as high, over 5,000 didn’t have a classification so I am guessing that it’s “very high” or WTF?? So as you can see I am sat in the middle again, possibly, possibly not a tumour.

Medications can elevate your prolactin levels, I am on 3 such medications and have been on them a long time. Lansoprazole since 2002 and opiates (morphine) since 2011, the contraceptive pill on and off since 1990. So if either of those three were the culprits I would have had symptoms well before now. 

Prolactin is the hormone that stimulates milk production in females, so is normally high during pregnancy and lactation. One of the symptoms of high prolactin is milk production and it can happen in males also. I have been lucky and been spared that symptom. Otherwise I would be able to wet-nurse my new nephew. I should imagine producing milk as a male is pretty distressing. Most males with high prolactin aren’t discovered until their levels are in the 5,000 level because another symptom of high prolactin is irregular menses (periods).

My menses / periods have been up the creek since last summer. Initially I put it down to being changed from the branded version of my contraceptive pill to the generic version. Which could be just coincidental, the rest of me felt fine, apart from the black hair that has decided to sprout on my top lip, chin, neck and face. When you are naturally blonde it can be quite distressing having to pluck the random hairs that seem to appear a foot long only a day after your last check. Over the course of the last 6-9 months I have developed a chin full of blackheads, my back is covered in acne and my neck is also joining in. I can hand on heart say that I went through puberty with barely a spot much to the annoyance of my peers. So to have all this acne / bad skin now has been confusing and unsettling. I just presumed I was heading towards the menopause. In fact I discussed this possibility with my gp at my last appointment. He told me tests for the perimenopause were terribly inaccurate but it could well be that I was heading down that path.

The problem is when you hit your forties the menopause is pretty much all that is suggested when your periods come and go as they please. The doctors have never taken my complaints of sprouting black hairs seriously, it is probably because I don’t venture outside of the house with a full handlebar moustache, that they just don’t get it. They take a quick look at my face see no facial hair and presume that it is all in my head. There is no way that I would be seen in public with dark black hairs on my face. As a woman I find their presence deeply upsetting. However it isn’t just my face these jet black hairs are appearing, they have popped up on my arms and thighs. I feel like I am turning into a Yeti ( it is nowhere near as bad as some poor ladies I have seen who have to shave twice a day and my husband isn’t getting stubble rash when we kiss) but until now my complaints have fallen on deaf ears and it has been something I have been complaining about since 2006.

I don’t know why the black hair upsets me so much, it’s possibly because I worry about when I am old and demented that I shall look like the bearded lady from the circus.

My other symptoms have been that no matter how hard I diet my weight barely moves in a downwards pattern. As soon as I have alcohol ( a glass of wine or two I am not a heavy drinker) or carbohydrates I put on half a stone (7lbs). My reaction to these foods is over the top, I eat much less than I ever have but the weight keeps piling on. I find myself constantly wearing my fat jeans instead of my “normal” jeans because my stomach seems to be attracting all the extra fat cells. I have also been suffering from crippling fatigue, I have been tired before but nothing like this. Bone tired is what I call it, where I can’t move for feeling tired. I have no motivation to do anything. I am not depressed, I still laugh, see people and have fun it is just I am so exhausted that I can’t manage to do things.

The thought of having friends over fills me with dread, not because I don’t want to see them but because I know the whole morning will be spent recuperating from having a shower. I am sleeping every afternoon, something I haven’t done since 2007/2008 and it’s not for lack of sleep at night (my sleep can be broken but I am managing 8 hours in total). I am just so tired by just doing the things I have taken for granted normal living stuff not painting the town red.

After a lot of googling medical articles, discussion boards, health pages I have discovered my vague symptoms all fit what I have hyperprolactinemia (another label). So after my initial freak out, I felt vindicated. I wasn’t going mad, I wasn’t being lazy, I wasn’t depressed. Then I got angry, very angry because yet again I hadn’t been listened to when I told the doctors that I knew something was wrong. I could feel my body was out of whack. I didn’t know what it was but I knew what I was feeling wasn’t normal. I knew it was hormone related due to the acne on my chin etc yet I had been told I spent too much time looking up syndromes on the internet  or was met with blank stares. 

Even without the presence of a tumour my high prolactin levels are going to have to be treated with medication. Pituitary tumours of this nature a prolactinoma are treated with medication to make them shrink, very rarely if ever are they removed. They are almost always benign, so all brilliant news. High prolactin though is damaging to the bones and can cause osteoporosis (thinning), having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome already means that I am at high risk of losing bone density when I hit the magical time of the menopause. I could also need replacement hormones to get my cycle back on track which would be given in the form of HRT. This is all dependent on what the endocrinologist thinks when I eventually get to see one.

My MRI with contrast is booked for next Tuesday (8th September). I have had many head MRI scans so its nothing new I know it’s noisy etc. The only thing that concerns me is getting the cannula in as my veins are so shoddy. Fingers crossed it goes ok. When I will get the results from the MRI scan I am not sure, I should imagine they will need reviewed by several people before a final report is given.

I am swinging from one emotion to another, worry, anger, calm and then back again. I am hoping that I get some treatment soon so I can start to feel better than this, where I am begging to go to sleep constantly. I never appreciated fatigue until this happened.

My handlebar moustache is probably here to stay, so I will be looking into laser treatment when the health stuff is sorted.

Thanks for reading!

Links for further information:

Prolactinoma

Hyperprolactinaemia