Apparently, it takes a bit of time to work this stuff. Seeing as my acne is described by the docs as mild and hormone related (meaning I, like every normal menstruating women gets a few spots around that time), you'd have thought any acne I did have would have been flattened in the first few nano-seconds of me starting treatment.
Not so. Now, I have the remains of stubborn acne (stubborn to suit my own mentality I assume) and skin that isn't healing properly. I hope it doesn't scar when it does heal...
Thursday 30 July 2009
Tuesday 28 July 2009
Communication and the medical profession
I have three friends either qualified or training to be doctors. They're intelligent people, but they will probably fall into this trap: failing to communicate.
I have two issues here. I'm under two sets of doctors in this adventure; one for the skin treatment (A) and one for the contraception (B). Do they talk to one another?
No.
Do they talk to me?
No.
When I went to get the Pill I had to tell doc B what doc A was treating me for, and he still had no idea what I was on about. Team A were not aware when I started the Pill until I told them.
Doc B didn't tell me about the side effects of my chosen Pill. I went for the one that sounded simple, that you take at roughly the same time each day but it's not an emergency if you forget for a couple of hours. Apparently, this one results in an extra period. Sorry blokes, girly stuff this. I'm PMS-ing for the second time in three weeks.
Not funny for me, certainly not funny for the people around me but hilarious for the makers of Neurofen.
Docs A also had a great surprise for me too- during a routine check-up, one doc let slip that my bloods from last time had been abnormal- high cholesterol at the age of 23. It's a side effect of the Isotretinoin, but I would have liked to have been told.
Sorry. It's a PMS-y rant. I'll get on with the work I'm supposed to be doing (ironically, total quality management!).
I have two issues here. I'm under two sets of doctors in this adventure; one for the skin treatment (A) and one for the contraception (B). Do they talk to one another?
No.
Do they talk to me?
No.
When I went to get the Pill I had to tell doc B what doc A was treating me for, and he still had no idea what I was on about. Team A were not aware when I started the Pill until I told them.
Doc B didn't tell me about the side effects of my chosen Pill. I went for the one that sounded simple, that you take at roughly the same time each day but it's not an emergency if you forget for a couple of hours. Apparently, this one results in an extra period. Sorry blokes, girly stuff this. I'm PMS-ing for the second time in three weeks.
Not funny for me, certainly not funny for the people around me but hilarious for the makers of Neurofen.
Docs A also had a great surprise for me too- during a routine check-up, one doc let slip that my bloods from last time had been abnormal- high cholesterol at the age of 23. It's a side effect of the Isotretinoin, but I would have liked to have been told.
Sorry. It's a PMS-y rant. I'll get on with the work I'm supposed to be doing (ironically, total quality management!).
Heard back from one of the Brussels jobs- just a thank you for the application. But that's nice. The other two won't contact unless they invite me for interview.
A thought just struck me though- I'm going to have to stick around Manchester until October anyway for medical reasons, nothing serious but they will be quite annoyed if I leave the country for more than 3 weeks at a time!
A thought just struck me though- I'm going to have to stick around Manchester until October anyway for medical reasons, nothing serious but they will be quite annoyed if I leave the country for more than 3 weeks at a time!
Monday 27 July 2009
The morning after (but one)
The condition presents itself between 6 and 24 hours after sun exposure, so I can only really guess if it's going to react by a slight tightness and tingling of the skin in the evening after I go out.
On Saturday, I spent a sunny afternoon at the Leek Show, complete with Factor50+, yet today I have nothing. I'm really quite pleased. I'm not sure my skin would hold out to longer than 2 hours in the sun, but it's a lot better than it was.
It's a miserable day today, so zero sun risk!
On Saturday, I spent a sunny afternoon at the Leek Show, complete with Factor50+, yet today I have nothing. I'm really quite pleased. I'm not sure my skin would hold out to longer than 2 hours in the sun, but it's a lot better than it was.
It's a miserable day today, so zero sun risk!
A beginning: mark II
Applied for three jobs today, one in Rome and two in Brussels.
If I'm going to make a difference I have to really stand out- what better way than develop an international career, and how else do you do that without proving that you can work as a team player in any job, but also live and communicate in a foreign language?
Of course, this does require me to learn French. And develop an addiction to Brioche. Oh it's a hard life!
If I'm going to make a difference I have to really stand out- what better way than develop an international career, and how else do you do that without proving that you can work as a team player in any job, but also live and communicate in a foreign language?
Of course, this does require me to learn French. And develop an addiction to Brioche. Oh it's a hard life!
Sunday 26 July 2009
Factor 50, or 50+
Factor 50 is a rating of sunscreen normally used in desert conditions. The number stands for the multiple by which your skin can withstand sun damage over its normal time, when using the sunscreen.
I use factor 50+, only available on prescription, because I'm one of the lucky people- lucky enough to develop a condition so rare that only 2 others in the 30 year history of the condition have had it.
It's called
Actinic Follicultis, so-called because the hair follicles of the skin react to the sun by producing hundreds of delightful little puss-filled spots. This affects my face, chest and shoulders, and has become worse over the past two years.
I was only recently diagnosed following an intensive week of light tests and chemical patch tests and was only truly diagnosed because the investigating Professor happened to have read a paper on the condition and matched the symptoms to my photographs. The symptoms failed to appear during testing, but the tests were carried out on my forearms and back.
Following the diagnosis, the docs decided to try me out on the treatment used (somewhat) successfully on the other two cases. It's quite a harsh treatment, but I really want to be rid of this. Looking like a scaled, puss lizard for half the year is not pleasant, nor is the tightness of the swollen skin, the swollen glands around my eyes as the skin drains or the pain as I try to get rid of the spots.
I'm now on Isotretinoin tablets. These are a severe acne treatment derived from Vitamin A. It basically dries out the skin, stops it producing sebum. It's so severe that I have to take the contraceptive pill and have monthly hospital pregnancy tests because if I were to become pregnant the foetus would be so damaged an termination would be the only option. I also have monthly blood tests for my lipids to make sure my body can cope with the treatment.
The side effects are pretty nasty, although in comparison to a lot of the "harsher" treatments, I'm not too bad. My lips are swollen and cracked- I'm keeping Lypsil in action- and my skin is dry. It's starting to work better, coping with the treatment and not peeling like it did at the beginning. After 7 days on the pills, I lost my voice thanks to dehyration, and it was only recently that the docs revealed I should be drinking a LOT more. Apparently, vigorous exercise is also out because my muscles would start hurting very quickly; this begs the question, how exactly was I supposed to disobey and get pregnant eh? The treatment also dries out your arms, and I'm worried I might be developing excema, which wouldn't be great. My skin isn't healing like it should, but I'm hoping this will correct itself when I finish the treatment. The final common side effect is depression. Not the greatest when you're halfway through a Master's dissertation (halfway is a case of gross optimism btw). I've slipped down that slope before, and I'm at a high risk point in my career right now so I'm worried. I'm surrounded by family though, and try to keep myself social.
I've been on the treatment now for 6 weeks. My skin is looking healthier, and for the first time since I was a child I don't look pale. My skin glows with a warmth from the sun, my skin works with my natural colouring and I don't have to wear make-up. I take 6 tablets a day (80mg Isotretinoin, the pill and anti-histamines because my skin is so sensitive) and apply factor 50+ if it's sunny, as well as wear lashings of Lypsil and use Clobetasone on my arms to try to prevent scaling.
I've had one small reaction to the sun in the first two weeks, but since then have had nothing. I've got my fingers crossed...
I use factor 50+, only available on prescription, because I'm one of the lucky people- lucky enough to develop a condition so rare that only 2 others in the 30 year history of the condition have had it.
It's called
Actinic Follicultis, so-called because the hair follicles of the skin react to the sun by producing hundreds of delightful little puss-filled spots. This affects my face, chest and shoulders, and has become worse over the past two years.I was only recently diagnosed following an intensive week of light tests and chemical patch tests and was only truly diagnosed because the investigating Professor happened to have read a paper on the condition and matched the symptoms to my photographs. The symptoms failed to appear during testing, but the tests were carried out on my forearms and back.
Following the diagnosis, the docs decided to try me out on the treatment used (somewhat) successfully on the other two cases. It's quite a harsh treatment, but I really want to be rid of this. Looking like a scaled, puss lizard for half the year is not pleasant, nor is the tightness of the swollen skin, the swollen glands around my eyes as the skin drains or the pain as I try to get rid of the spots.
I'm now on Isotretinoin tablets. These are a severe acne treatment derived from Vitamin A. It basically dries out the skin, stops it producing sebum. It's so severe that I have to take the contraceptive pill and have monthly hospital pregnancy tests because if I were to become pregnant the foetus would be so damaged an termination would be the only option. I also have monthly blood tests for my lipids to make sure my body can cope with the treatment.
The side effects are pretty nasty, although in comparison to a lot of the "harsher" treatments, I'm not too bad. My lips are swollen and cracked- I'm keeping Lypsil in action- and my skin is dry. It's starting to work better, coping with the treatment and not peeling like it did at the beginning. After 7 days on the pills, I lost my voice thanks to dehyration, and it was only recently that the docs revealed I should be drinking a LOT more. Apparently, vigorous exercise is also out because my muscles would start hurting very quickly; this begs the question, how exactly was I supposed to disobey and get pregnant eh? The treatment also dries out your arms, and I'm worried I might be developing excema, which wouldn't be great. My skin isn't healing like it should, but I'm hoping this will correct itself when I finish the treatment. The final common side effect is depression. Not the greatest when you're halfway through a Master's dissertation (halfway is a case of gross optimism btw). I've slipped down that slope before, and I'm at a high risk point in my career right now so I'm worried. I'm surrounded by family though, and try to keep myself social.
I've been on the treatment now for 6 weeks. My skin is looking healthier, and for the first time since I was a child I don't look pale. My skin glows with a warmth from the sun, my skin works with my natural colouring and I don't have to wear make-up. I take 6 tablets a day (80mg Isotretinoin, the pill and anti-histamines because my skin is so sensitive) and apply factor 50+ if it's sunny, as well as wear lashings of Lypsil and use Clobetasone on my arms to try to prevent scaling.
I've had one small reaction to the sun in the first two weeks, but since then have had nothing. I've got my fingers crossed...
Saturday 25 July 2009
Dreams of a calmer life
There's a dilemma in my mind, a question of worth. You see, there is an International Development career seminar evening on at Brunei on the 29th and I'd really like to go. It's £20 a ticket, and train fares would be around £50 return, but it finishes at 9pm and I don't really want to be negotiating my way home then. There's also the added problem of my finances right now.
I've asked if anyone wants to go and car share with me, which would be slightly safer and cost less, but so far no luck... mostly because the people who'd jump at the chance are abroad. Lucky them!
I'm increasingly liking the idea of working abroad right now. Okay, so a lot of the governments around the world are corrupt or sleazy (look at Berlosconi, who hides his escapades from his country through media control), but at least if it's easier to hide. If I so much as breathe wrong here I'm scared there's going to be a legal repercussion. Scared of a nanny state? Certainly. More so, I'm scared that the BNP are gaining power and might lead to more sectarian violence. That's probably not the correct term, but f- it.
I stayed with a friend in Rome a couple of months ago. I fell in lust with the hustle and bustle, the wayward traffic and third world ways (her words, not mine). I might also have falled in pure lust with a certain motorbike and the idea of its rider, but things are not fairy tales for me, so I shall desist from dreaming such thoughts. We were talking, and the idea was mooted that I could find an English speaking job there, and we could rent a flat- she can't afford one on her own anytime soon, and her parents are driving her mad.
Part of me wants to work and work, push my way to the top and make a real difference to the way we treat this world, as well as pay off my considerable student debts- seriously, studying at one of the top 10 international business schools ain't cheap.
Another part of me is looking skeptical, raising an eyebrow and asking me to think back to a time that I haven't been screwed in some way in my career. Once, I was refused a job on the grounds that I "needed more of a challenge in my career than they could offer, and I'd be bored." I've been described as "raw talent" in a leading national newspaper and perhaps selfishly I expect that opportunities should fall into my lap.
The other part of me looks at my situation, at my academic achievements and the stupid things I've tried to keep myself out of the debt collectors' collective phone books, the s- I've taken from employers, and says "Hey! You deserve to have a break. Go to Italy. Work in a hotel and enjoy the simple life for a bit. Have a break!"
Is it wrong to be jealous of those who don't work as hard, knowing that I could have chosen that route, but instead put myself in this position in the hope of a better life? You wouldn't know it to look at them, but my parents have burned themselves out for us in the hope that through their work our better education might lead somewhere better; perhaps I feel slightly guilty at the prospect of not being in a £40,000 a year job as they might hope.
Perhaps this got a bit Emo- sorry! It's possibly something to with this sun allergy treatment...
I've asked if anyone wants to go and car share with me, which would be slightly safer and cost less, but so far no luck... mostly because the people who'd jump at the chance are abroad. Lucky them!
I'm increasingly liking the idea of working abroad right now. Okay, so a lot of the governments around the world are corrupt or sleazy (look at Berlosconi, who hides his escapades from his country through media control), but at least if it's easier to hide. If I so much as breathe wrong here I'm scared there's going to be a legal repercussion. Scared of a nanny state? Certainly. More so, I'm scared that the BNP are gaining power and might lead to more sectarian violence. That's probably not the correct term, but f- it.
I stayed with a friend in Rome a couple of months ago. I fell in lust with the hustle and bustle, the wayward traffic and third world ways (her words, not mine). I might also have falled in pure lust with a certain motorbike and the idea of its rider, but things are not fairy tales for me, so I shall desist from dreaming such thoughts. We were talking, and the idea was mooted that I could find an English speaking job there, and we could rent a flat- she can't afford one on her own anytime soon, and her parents are driving her mad.
Part of me wants to work and work, push my way to the top and make a real difference to the way we treat this world, as well as pay off my considerable student debts- seriously, studying at one of the top 10 international business schools ain't cheap.
Another part of me is looking skeptical, raising an eyebrow and asking me to think back to a time that I haven't been screwed in some way in my career. Once, I was refused a job on the grounds that I "needed more of a challenge in my career than they could offer, and I'd be bored." I've been described as "raw talent" in a leading national newspaper and perhaps selfishly I expect that opportunities should fall into my lap.
The other part of me looks at my situation, at my academic achievements and the stupid things I've tried to keep myself out of the debt collectors' collective phone books, the s- I've taken from employers, and says "Hey! You deserve to have a break. Go to Italy. Work in a hotel and enjoy the simple life for a bit. Have a break!"
Is it wrong to be jealous of those who don't work as hard, knowing that I could have chosen that route, but instead put myself in this position in the hope of a better life? You wouldn't know it to look at them, but my parents have burned themselves out for us in the hope that through their work our better education might lead somewhere better; perhaps I feel slightly guilty at the prospect of not being in a £40,000 a year job as they might hope.
Perhaps this got a bit Emo- sorry! It's possibly something to with this sun allergy treatment...
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