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Showing posts with label My Latest Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Latest Post. Show all posts

Decisions, decisions: When to share the news that you have ALS

 


When my doctor told me that I had ALS, my reaction was like that of most newly diagnosed ALS patients. I felt a jumble of emotions and desperately wanted to let my friends and family know — but something held me back. Deep down I knew that when I told others about my ALS, it’d become real, and I’d have to accept that I had ALS. But I also wanted to wait, thinking I needed to process every detail and each emotion, and have everything in order before I shared the news.

Luckily, a phone call with an invitation was the nudge I needed to get unstuck and speak to others about my condition. The incident happened only a few months after my diagnosis. I was at home in the kitchen when the phone rang with a call from my doctor. Rather than having a medical conversation, she instead invited me to speak at a local ALS fundraising event for ALS Awareness Month.

Decision paralysis

Only a few seconds went by as my doctor waited for my answer, but for me, it felt like hours. My mind went through a million gyrations, everything from snappy comebacks like “Tell my ALS story? I didn’t even know ALS existed until you told me I had it!” to feeling the weight of sharing my personal diagnosis story with total strangers. Actually, I wanted more time to wander in self-pity.

My neurologist was waiting for an answer, and I knew I shouldn’t back out. Reluctantly, I agreed to show up.

As it turns out, my experience at the fundraising event completely erased all of my misgivings. I spoke from the heart, and in return, I felt the compassion in the room and the support surrounding me. My husband and I had a great time and happily joined in the cheers when the announcement came at the end of the evening that the event had reached its fundraising goal.

What I learned

Many mental health experts recommend that you wait until after you’ve come to terms with a diagnosis such as ALS, and feel emotionally ready to tell others. I believe waiting has its downsides, however.

I think it’s important to receive support from close friends and family from the start. As much as you may have tried to cover them up, close family members probably already noticed your symptoms. They suspected something was wrong, even if they didn’t know what it is. And they may feel hurt later on when they learn that you’ve been hiding something from them.

People will have questions, and it’s OK to tell them you don’t have all the answers or simply aren’t ready to discuss them right now. You can always refer them to a reputable website, such as ALS News Today or Your ALS Guide, for general information about the disease.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself and worrying if my family and friends would pity me rather than support me, I discovered that they were part of my process. Along the way, I taught them how to help me, what wasn’t helpful to say, and that I was and still am the same person on the inside.

Are you a newly diagnosed ALS patient? Or has it been a while and you still feel intimidated telling friends and family? Don’t put it off. They’ll become your most important support, both now and in the future.

Let me help you move forward and learn to live well while living with ALS.

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Dagmar Munn
ALS Wellness Blog


“Some people are human medicine. You spend an hour with them, and everything feels better”

Unknown




A version of this post first appeared as my column on the ALS News Today website.

My ALS prognosis affects how I wrestle with making decisions

 


Decisions, decisions. When did making health decisions become so challenging for me? Well, it began after I was diagnosed with ALS. Scheduling annual health screens and medical treatments became complex decisions. Even purchasing a new pair of sneakers came with specific considerations.

ALS has created a whole new timeline for my life, plus health decisions with new rules.

A new ALS timeline

At one of the initial visits with my neurologist following my diagnosis, I asked my doctor if I should continue having an annual bone density screening. Her answer startled me. “Dagmar, we know that having ALS means that at some point in time, you’ll be using a wheelchair. And as a result of constantly being seated, your bones will naturally become soft and less dense. So, there’s no need to track your bone density levels anymore.”

Um, say whaat?

I then asked about annual dental exams and if the X-rays were bad for my ALS. She responded, “We know if you did absolutely nothing to take care of your teeth, it would take about 10 years for all of them to rot and fall out. Your teeth are certainly important, but Dagmar, your priorities have changed.

“For example, if you’re still here in 10 years and not totally relying on taking in nutrition through a tube in your stomach, we’ll gladly address whatever your needs are for teeth. Right now, we need to discuss what you should be doing within the next two months, what changes to expect in six months, and what to prepare for one year from now.”

Um, okaaay…

And that’s when she repeated the words “average life expectancy of two to five years,” and I left the doctor’s office with a whole new perspective on what I thought were simple health rules when making those decisions. I now needed to factor in my potential limited longevity.

Decision dilemma

Life expectancy and survival rates for ALS patients do vary depending on which symptoms first appear and how quickly the disease progresses.

For patients who experience a fast progression, their health decisions happen quickly and are focused solely on managing symptoms and slowing down the stages of ALS. Others like me, who are living beyond the five-year mark, have another perspective to weigh.

It was a learning curve for me. At first, I got caught up in trying to micromanage and consider my potential longevity in every decision.

For example, I had to replace my everyday sneakers, but I couldn’t decide between the higher-priced ones (which I really liked) and a cheaper pair. “I’ll never live long enough to wear out the expensive ones,” I told myself, visualizing my doctor’s prediction of my needing a wheelchair.

I spent days and days thinking about this decision, waffling and trying to justify one over the other. Finally, I picked the pricier ones and told myself they’d motivate me to keep at my daily exercises and not need a wheelchair for as long as possible.

I’ve since learned to make quick decisions about the “small stuff,” saving my energy for the more significant problems, like dental work.

Turns out I have lived beyond the 10 years that my doctor mentioned in our early visits. I have all my teeth, can eat normal food, and I’ve been visiting my dentist whenever needed. About five years ago, I had to have a crown put on a tooth, and wrote about my positive experience. At the time, I knew it was a good investment, figuring I’d be around for five more years.

Last year, that crown came loose, and as I sat in the dentist’s chair contemplating another investment in my teeth, I had to chuckle. I was proud of reaching this milestone and of my commitment to taking care of myself while doing the things that supported my health. I learned to accept, adapt, and live well with ALS.

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 FOR MORE ON THIS TOPIC, I SUGGEST THIS POST

Time Matters When Living with ALS

Reframing Our Approach with a New Kind of ALS Diagnosis

Explore more posts HERE

 

Dagmar Munn
ALS and Wellness Blog


 "Be decisive. Right or wrong, make a decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn’t make a decision.”


 

 

 

A version of this post first appeared as my column on the ALS News Today website