Heat
Of all the 19th and 20th century inventions, the one that I’m most grateful for is central heating. Indoor plumbing ranks a close second, followed by refrigeration. All the rest I could do without if forced to make a choice.
The ancient steam heat in my building has proven reliable in its production of warmth. I’ve grown accustomed to—even fond of—the groans, bangs, clangs, gurgles and hissing that are all part of the package. The temperature in here hovers between 72 and 75 on even the coldest days. A pan of water on the radiator keeps the humidity around 50%.
A few days back, when I awoke it was -1°F with a -16°F wind chill (-18°C and -27°C respectively.) Yet, except for the floor being a little cool, probably because downstairs neighbor guy moved out and the heat is turned down in that apartment, it remained quite toasty. Still, I kept the blinds closed to help keep heat from radiating through the insulated glass.
Old habits die hard though. I still dress in sweats and keep two comforters, a blanket and flannel sheets on the bed. Decades of feeling cold from September to June (and frozen from November to April) have left me with an almost pathological fear of cold. I would rather sit here and sweat than feel the slightest chill, because of what my body does when it senses cold.
That sensitivity is due to Reynaud’s Syndrome, a spastic vasoconstriction on exposure to cold. It’s self-reinforcing since heat is transported with the blood. Cold begets vasoconstriction which begats cold… My hands and feet are ghastly white tinged with blue for months on end.
Let’s not forget about the pain that goes along with with it. Spasm of any sort is painful. When it’s every blood vessal in all your limbs—simultaneously—that’s a lot of pain. Sharp, razor-like pain. Imagine feeding your hand through the office shredder. That kind of pain. And it hurts just as much, but perhaps a little differently, when rewarming.
I’ve taken medication for the condition before, but at best, it’s gained me a couple of degrees of comfort range and a few minutes of rewarming time.
So I sort of pooh-poohed the idea when my psychiatrist decided to start me on a brand-new med that’s supposed to help the depression, ADD, sleep disorder, irritable bowel, Fibromyalgia and Reynaud’s all at once.
Yeah, and I’m Mary, Queen of Scots.
But hope is not so easily dashed by sarcasm. I myself had postulated the theory to several docs that defects in norepinephrine regulation is a common thread in five of those six. I guess what I couldn’t believe was that Eli Lilly & Co. agrees with me and developed this new drug. No-one listens to an addict, right?
Cymbalta® (duloxetine) has changed my life completely in the thirty days I’ve been on it.
It’s hard for me to articulate exactly how different—powerful and life-changing—it feels to no longer fear going outdoors, to no longer have to retreat to the bed to warm up ever hour or two, to no longer avoid taking showers because I can’t get dried and bundled up fast enough to prevent vasoconstriction when I get out.
It’s an entirely new experience for me to put on a coat, step outside and still feel warm. Even my warmest coat ever only made me feel less cold that without it. Never warm, just less cold.
I feel postively giddy now that I can go outside without feeling very much different than I did inside. I’m having to change everything about dressing for the winter.
On the two cold days we had where it never broke out of the single-digits, I waited for bus completely oblivious to the cold wearing only a t-shirt, office shirt and only one pair of longjohns and socks. (Well, jeans, boots and my winter coat too.) Even my nose stayed warm. Last year I would have added two more pairs of longjohns and socks, a sweater and thermals on top, a scarf and mittens and I’d still have been cold.
Last night before bed, I stepped outside for a smoke wearing only a t-shirt, warm-up jacket and sweatpants. Barefoot, I stood on the iron fire-escape. And it was 25° outside! Yeah, I felt the cold on my feet. But no pain and after five or ten minutes back inside, they felt like I’d never left the living room.
This is amazing stuff.
I get it now when people are uninhibited about going out and doing things in winter. I’m thinking snowball fights and tobogganing might be fun. Skiing and skating are out on account of my knees, but I get the concept that they might be enjoyable.
As for the sleep, except for waking up after three cycles or so the actual sleep itself is much improved. I can live with getting up partway through the night. I have some toast, maybe a smoke, I putter around and read, then I go back to bed after about an hour for another two cycles.
Occasionally if I’m feeling particularly stressed, I wake up after only one cycle or so and I feel the familiar pain of the Fibromyalgia in all my joints. But I’m able to drop right back and feel fine when I next awake.
Come morning, I don’t have to fight off any fuzziness like I had to with either the amitriptyline or trazodone.
The Cymbalta’s not working quite so well on the depression and ADD and the jury’s still out of the irritable bowel. But we’ve got some headroom in the dosage and on Friday I started taking two caps a day instead of one.
Between adequate central heating and this new med, I’m beginning to see winter in a whole new way.
