I Can’t Live, If Living Is Without Sweat

I got another call from the nurse of the family medicine doctor today about the lack of sweat. She (the doctor) is still of the opinion that the rheumatologist is the best option. When I told the nurse what happened, she suggested that I just wait until the next appointment so I could tell the doctor. When I told her that my next appointment would be in around four months, she was a little less comfortable with the idea of me waiting. When I asked if she thought the family doctor might have an idea for a referral to a different specialty, she said that they wanted it going through the rheumatologist. So I decided to wait. 

My mom, on the other hand, decided that the weather that occurs in the southeastern United States during the summer was too dangerous to risk that long of a wait;12 she called the office to talk to the nurse.3

Guess. What. Happened. 

The nurse said I’d talked to the doctor on Wednesday.4 She said the doctor recommended I go to a walk-in for a potentially life-threatening condition.5 She said that nothing I see the rheumatologist for could cause a lack of sweat & that they don’t treat anything that causes that.6 

My mother wasn’t having that, so this nurse said that she would talk to the rheumatologist, if he was still at the office,7 to see what he thought. Within an hour, she got a call back. 

 He still didn’t think anything he treats me8 for, but that he will reevaluate me in two weeks. He doubts there’s anything wrong that he treats me for, but he will check to see if there’s anything new wrong with me. Not to worry, when he checks, absolutely nothing will be wrong. There’s no possible way for me to actually be sick because I just have “loose” joints and need to get more sleep. This isn’t me being a defeatist or cynical. It isn’t me wanting to trash some well-meaning doctor who actually gives a fuck about what’s going on, but who I’m maligning for no good reason. This is me realizing that my rheumatologist has a tendency to be lazy asshole when it comes to actually treating me. This isn’t just my interpretation of his behavior. Anyone who has accompanied me to the appointment and met the man has the same assessment of him. He is dismissive. He is abrupt. He is out the door before I’m able to open my mouth and get words out.9

So I’m not anticipating any change in my condition any time soon. 

Photo via Visualhunt


  1. From the Mayo Clinic: Anhidrosis is the inability to sweat normally. When you don’t sweat (perspire), your body can’t cool itself, which can lead to overheating and sometimes to heatstroke — a potentially fatal condition. 

  2. From the U.S. National Library of Medicine & the NIH: An abnormal lack of sweat in response to heat may be harmful, because sweating allows heat to be released from the body. The medical term for absent sweating is anhidrosis. 

  3. You can’t be surprised by her lack of boundaries. 

  4. Nope. 

  5. He may have told the nurse this. He did not tell me this. If he had, I’d be even more distressed by a doctor wanting me to go to a walk-in for something so serious. 

  6. I’ve come to the conclusion that my rheumatologist doesn’t bother to actually treat anything. 

  7. His hours are like four hours a day, two days a week. 

  8. Treats means a yearly appointment that he spends three to five minutes in max, ignores what I say, tells me to lose weight, ignores anything I say about dryness or subluxated joints, says soft braces and plenty of sleep will fix issues that end up requiring surgery, and prescribes another twelve months of Flexeril, even if I tell him that it’s not even working. This has been going on for years now. 

  9. Anxiety makes actually speaking about what’s wrong very difficult. If I can get a doctor or anyone else to give me a minute to adjust, I can actually talk to them to some degree. I can even stand up for myself sometimes. 

A Professional Athlete in the Making

As you may have figured out, members of my family tend to be a little bit challenged in basic coordination. Put simply, if falling on our asses or into the asses of other people1 was an Olympic sport, we would win it every four years. Hell, we could win the summer and winter versions of it, so it’d be like a medal-palooza every two years. Other clumsy families would be so freaking2 jealous.3 

Wait. What was this post supposed to be about? Oh, yeah. 

On Friday evening, Nana fell at the nursing home. They called us at seven o’clock on Saturday morning.4 There were assurances that she seemed to be doing fine. All that they thought was wrong was some bruising, which is another Olympic sport my family could dominate in.5 Nana was still able to get up and move around. 

They weren’t worried.

We weren’t worried. 

But Nana’s BFF was worried. Mary didn’t think her leg seemed okay, so she called my mom on Tuesday evening. Before my mom could call and let the center know that Nana’s friend was worried, the nursing home called to tell us that they were doing a Doppler study on her leg because (she started complaining about it hurting worse so) they thought there was a blood clot in it.6 But there wasn’t a single blood clot in her leg. Don’t start cheering about that because I’m being really literal. Nana had two blood clots in her femoral vein.7 Now, Nana is going on Xarelto, so obviously…

Nana is going to be the next major pro-athlete in the commercials. 

I’ve already shown just how much my family could kick ass if everyday things were Olympic events, so the pharmaceutical companies have got to call us, right? Right.8

I’m not sure if telling my doctor that I have yet another relative with blood clots would be a good idea. She may want to confiscate my norethindrone. That would be awful for everyone.9 And it would be a bloody mess. Literally.10 But I guess it’s a case of better red than dead.11 Though I guess it could end in my death via anemia or exsanguination.12 Yeah, so…bleh. 

But Nana’s totally okay, except for she’s on total bed rest until the clots dissolve.13


  1. Another story for another day. 

  2. Did I just do a faux obscenity? God, I hate those. I should’ve just said fucking

  3. Humble bragging is losers. 

  4. No words. 

  5. Be jealous. 

  6. Hey, look at yet another thing we excel at. 

  7. Go big or go home, amirite? 

  8. Given how wackadoodle some bloggers have been lately, I feel the need to point out that I don’t believe this crazy shit. Nana does have a clot. My family does have a history of those, easy bruising, and falling. 

  9. Don’t make me take my earrings out. 

  10. TMI, sorry. 

  11. Without the pro-Soviet or pro-Badgers implications. 

  12. Say that word ten times fast. 

  13. And I’m okay except my nightly Flexeril is making me a little weirder than usual. 

Can’t Sweat Any of the Stuff

I’m not sure how much I’ve talked about this on here, but here goes. I have trouble regulating my body temperature. I don’t sweat enough to cool down. I don’t exactly know why. It’s probably due to one connective tissue issue or another. 

Not sweating can be dangerous, especially when exercising,12 so when I saw the family practice doctor today, I told her. She said I should talk to my rheumatologist or his nurse. I called the rheumatologist’s office & the nurse told me that she’d never heard of anhidrosis/hypohidrosis34 and that I should call: (a.) my endocrinologist,56 (b.) family doctor,7 or (c.) go to a walk-in clinic.8  I asked was she sure that Sjögren’s/UCTD couldn’t possibly cause a person to not sweat. She assured me that lack of sweat has absolutely nothing to do with either condition.9 And I’m sorry, but who goes to a walk-in clinic for an issue that even a speciality clinic is saying they’re unfamiliar with? Why would you even recommend that?10 If you’re going to recommend calling a doctor, why not recommend a dermatologist or a neurologist. I no longer have either of those, but at least skin and the nervous system have something to do with a lack of perspiration. 

I called the family practice clinic back and asked them to leave a message for my doctor. They said she’d call back. She didn’t. I guess maybe it’s been queued for sometime later, but I am not going to hold my breath on it. 

I am frustrated that some offices don’t take real problems seriously.11 And I am even more frustrated that I cannot change to doctors/offices who/that do care because of insurance.12

Photo credit: Kullez via VisualHunt.com / CC BY


  1. On the 18th, when it was 80°F outside, I went for a 45 minute walk & a 18 minute walk. I came back when the left side of my head felt like it was being destroyed by some very angry person with a hammer. I was nauseated, had some gross intestinal issues, my muscles were cramping, my skin was bright red, and I had one or two drops of sweat on my face. The rest of me was dry. It took 3 days to recover. 

  2. I tried a short walk this week in cooler weather with similar outcomes, but recovered in hours. 

  3. the actual terms for the issue 

  4. I used lay terms while describing the issue. 

  5. I don’t have an endocrinologist. 

  6. Sweat glands are part of the exocrine system anyway, not the endocrine system. 

  7. The one that said to call her. 

  8. Yeah, really. 

  9. That’s why NIH has 14 pages of journal articles on Sjögren’s and anhidrosis. Because there is absolutely no link at all. Ever. And why it’s actually something that has been known to impact patients with Sjögren’s, Ehlers-Danlos, UCTD, MCTD, Fibromyalgia, Dysautonomia, etc., which are all treated by…rheumatologists! 

  10. And when it’s a condition that can be fatal? No, you don’t ship someone to a doc-in-the-box when you can’t be assed to understand potential symptoms of diseases you treat every day. 

  11. And, in case someone wants to launch into some rant about how they think I’m making this up, go talk to a wall. It will give you all the attention you deserve. 

  12. The American medical system is super fucked up. 

Safe-Wording

I opened a FetLife account one night almost two years ago. I won’t link to it here or explain why I joined. I will say I quit using it not long after because of behavior, unrelated to kinks, by some users that I found alarming. Before tonight, I had only signed in to stop receiving regular emails from groups I had at one time thought might interest me. Since that time, I had not signed in, nor had I thought about signing in.1

Tonight, though, tonight I signed in and deactivated my account there.2

On my FetLife account, I do not recall ever linking to this or any other blog I have ever used. I was warned about maintaining anonymity by a user that I once knew from church.  34 I didn’t use images where I could be easily identified. I didn’t use any identifying nicknames. I used my first name once, but no more than that. I’ve also never linked to my FetLife account on any social media or on here. 

I’m stating this because I felt, I don’t even know how to describe it, when I got a notification of a private message. The subject line was “Hello Janet” and the body of the message was: 

Hi. You have a very interesting net presence. Your blog shows that you think deeply about a lot of things. Let me know if you’d like to chat some time and see if we can have a conversation that interests you. 

I’m guessing that whoever wrote this is probably reading this right now. That creeps me out. It has taken me a long time to feel truly comfortable talking about my life here or anywhere. And now it feels like that comfort, that ability to express myself freely has been taken from me. I don’t appreciate that. I shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable talking about myself on here. I shouldn’t have to worry about how a total stranger managed to track my blog down from the one time I slipped up and used my first name. I shouldn’t have to worry about what all that stranger might have been trying to find out about me. 

I guess I do have way to describe how I feel. 

I’m scared. 

I’m disgusted. 

I’m absolutely fucking pissed off. 

I understand that we as a society Google everyone and everything. I understand that privacy is something that barely exists in today’s world. But I also understand that this was something that should not have happened. This was too much for me.

I tried so hard to maintain anonymity because I felt that would keep me safe. This ripped away any safety I might have felt on there, on here. 

I’m out of FetLife. For now. Possibly for good. 

Photo credit: breathtakingly via VisualHunt / CC BY-NC-ND


  1. I hadn’t wanted to sign in. I like who I’m currently involved with and feel happier with them than I ever thought possible. I don’t talk about this person or what we do on here because I want to maintain his privacy. 

  2. I had to reset the password to do so. 

  3. Who knew Mormons could be kinky? 

  4. He is part of why I quit the site. I found him on a dating app, but didn’t know who he was—he didn’t include a picture—but I thought his profile sounded interesting. He knew the whole time who I was. When he finally told me, I pulled away. I didn’t particularly like him before the encounter. I liked him less after, especially considering I met him while I was doing my prospective member lessons before I was baptized. That lesson was done at the apartment he shared with his then-wife and his son. We had a history that I didn’t want to relive.  After I made it clear that I didn’t have an interest in engaging in anything with him, he started popping up on other websites I used saying how surprised he was to run into me on them. He accused me, in jest, of stalking him. 

Dearest Marie

Once upon a time, we were friends. We would email each other, talk on Twitter, comment on each other’s blogs, etc. It was nice. You and I were both diagnosed as Bipolar and it was nice to have someone around my age to talk to about that. You weren’t my only friend with that issue, but for a while there you were one of the closest. When you got your lap-band surgery done, I remember worrying because you couldn’t keep down food, but you didn’t want to tell your doctor because you were finally losing weight. I worried you would have nutritional deficiencies before I realized I had them. 

And you told me you worried about my health issues as well. 
 a year ago I told one person she had harassed thisThat’s why you felt the need when you were diagnosed with “Chronic Lyme Disease” to suggest I might have it as well.1 You told me that it fit my symptoms. You told me I might be able to go off my meds, lose weight, and live a life off without chronic pain if I’d just go to a Lyme specialist.2 And for a split second, I considered it.3 But then I researched it, something that you should have known I would do. When I told you that I didn’t think an infection was causing my hereditary condition,4 you huffed off like a toddler for a while before you came roaring back into my life. 

Our friendship never recovered from that, did it?

Or maybe our friendship was nonexistent from the beginning. That’s what I started thinking tonight as your tirade came in. Well, I did after I described your past behaviors, including that close friendship with a certain blogger that used to write fat-shaming posts pretty regularly, and some people started pointing out that friends don’t really act like you’ve acted. I tried to defend you. You’re bipolar and off your meds…you are just on a Lyme disease kick…you’re just having a bad day or week or month or year. 

But that doesn’t explain it. 

Because the reality is that you’ve always had a shady edge to your behavior. 

Like how you harassed one mutual friend over her past drug issues and how that compared to your Lyme disease. Or the time you harassed another person I know and you know of over her exercising routine and her teeth. Or maybe the time you went after another mutual friend calling her a bad parent for having an autistic child and eating gluten. Or maybe how you treated total strangers should have clued me in. You trolled groups for disabled people on Twitter to promote your “everything is Lyme” mindset. You said people who didn’t buy marijuana5 off the street, not from reputable/regulated dealers, for their epileptic children were bad parents. You would even buy marijuana, in a state where it’s illegal, to make homemade CBD oil & you’d brag about it on social media. You didn’t care who you hurt, whether it was a friend, a family member, a stranger, or yourself. 

 So your nonsensical transphobic tirade fits with the rest of your utter disregard and lack of even basic compassion for other people. And I am so happy my eyes are open to your cruelty. I’m glad that I am no longer having to hope that one day you’ll go back on your medicine and into therapy and be all better. Clearly, this is what the real you is like.

I don’t know why you think the transgender community wants to strip you of your rights any more than I know why you fixated on Lyme. I don’t understand why you think I’m brainwashed when you’re the person actually buying into speculation and denying facts. I don’t know why you think that it’s okay to compare the LGBTQ community to Nazis or why you think there’s a vast conspiracy to brainwash children into being trans.

Do you think that I’m going to molest children because of my past? Would you not trust me to be around children if I didn’t identify as 100% heterosexual? I mean before you determined that I was brainwashed by my trans friends.

Was I a threat then?

Am I one now?

Have you always thought of me as a dangerous person?

Did you really think I was threatening you?

These are things I wanted to ask you.

I don’t usually give people who pick fights with me multiple chances to walk away. I don’t warn them like I did you. You’ve seen me argue and you know this.

You have to at least know I would never beat you up. I’ve slapped one person in my whole life and I still feel bad about that. I mean, come on, this is me. I rant online, but I’m practically a pacifist. 

Identifying as transgender is not a result of child molestation. Being a  non-heterosexual is not the result of child molestation. This is a bullshit belief that even total homophobes and transphobes don’t express that much anymore. And being gay or trans doesn’t mean someone will molest children.

Don’t believe what fear- and hate-mongers want you to believe.

Don’t put your faith in people who won’t be honest with you.

Did you even bother to look for a legitimate source on any of those articles? Ooh. Tabloids. So trust-worthy, especially ones with links to UKIP, BNP, & Tories. But I guess that fits with your fear-mongering and with your love of Trump.6 I always knew you were a Republican, but I never realized how much hatred you carry in your heart.7

You want me to be educated on this issue, but you’re forgetting that I actually am educated. Remember early in our friendship when I was being booted from my college major with one semester left? Or that what that major was in? I know a Social Work degree and a GRE score high enough to get my Master’s is not as impressive as being able to make your own CBD oil, but it’s close, right?

I shouldn’t mock you over a lack of education. Plenty of non-bigoted intelligent people don’t go to college. Some don’t even finish high school. Your ignorance has nothing to do with your level of educational attainment or lack thereof. It really all boils down to a lack of something a little closer to the heart. 

I don’t know why I’m even bothering. 

I guess it’s to give myself closure. 

So, I’ll slam the metaphorical door on this oddity we once called friendship. I’ll bid you adieu. I hope one day you find a way to truly enjoy the world and have a good life. I just want you to know that you’re not welcome back in mine. 


  1. Or that’s how I rationalized it. 

  2. Magic beans. 

  3. Magic beans aren’t real. 

  4. Science! 

  5. Quite frankly, your belief that everything is some sinister plot if you would just take your damn medication. You might feel even better if you would stop smoking marijuana. Bipolar disorder and pot do not always mix well. Even activists for decriminalization and legalization understand that some people with some conditions cannot use it. 

  6. Even amongst Trumplodytes, your hatred is off the chart. And he’s courting actual neo-Nazis. 

  7. There are a lot of good-hearted, well-meaning Republicans out there. They get lumped in with the trash way too often, even by me. 

Men at Work (In the Women’s Locker Room) 

In the time since HB2 was signed into law, I’ve had several heterosexual cisgender men tell me how terrified they were by the idea “men” being allowed in women’s locker rooms and restrooms. They’re convinced that transgender women are really cisgender men who are trolling for women to gawk at, grope, assault, or rape in a shower or bathroom stall. Because that’s apparently what they think any person born with male genitalia would do. After all, it’s what Mike Huckabee said that he would have done as a young man.1 So, of course, anyone born with a Y chromosome has to be just as creepy. These dudes are also the ones who think that women are even more terrified than them about the issue.2

I bet that they would freak the fuck out over what happened when I went to the Wellness Center Thursday afternoon. On the way over to the pool, I had been talking to my father about how another batch of transphobic folks were saying all women are terrified over trans women coming into women’s bathrooms and locker rooms. That they had talked about women and girls seeing the genitalia of trans folks in the bathrooms, like we play show and tell in them instead of peeing like normal folks. That we would have to shower with and soap up pre-op  cis and trans women because locker rooms in the real world are just like the ones from the porn that they watched last night. That anyone with a dick will use any excuse to rape any and all women using a restroom, locker room, etc.

We were both grumbling over the ignorance as he dropped me off. 

I went in, checked in, and headed to the pool staging area.3 When I got in, the teacher of an infant swimming class told me that there were men working in there. I changed behind a curtain and those pesky maintenance men didn’t bother to assault me. Obviously they didn’t realize that transphobic guys were rambling away on Twitter about the dangers of people people who are male or assigned male at birth being in a place where women pee, disrobe, & shower4 using bathrooms as hunting grounds. That’s why they didn’t attack any of the women who varied in body type, race, and age. Because they didn’t get the rape-y memo. 

Or maybe because most people—whether they are cisgender or transgender—don’t go into the bathroom to assault other people. It doesn’t even cross their minds. Because it’s fucking creepy and a major indicator that a person needs to seek professional help. 

And it shouldn’t be something the rest of us expect either—or suggest that we expect as a way to pass unjust laws. We have to be better than that. 


  1. Mike Huckabee, lover of child molestation enablers and father of an animal abuser and a Trump spokesperson, said: “We are now in city after city watching ordinances say that your 7-year-old daughter, if she goes into the restroom cannot be offended and you can’t be offended if she’s greeted there by a 42-year-old man who feels more like a woman than he does a man…Now I wish that someone told me that when I was in high school that I could have felt like a woman when it came time to take showers in PE. I’m pretty sure that I would have found my feminine side and said, ‘Coach, I think I’d rather shower with the girls today.’” 

  2. I’ve seen more women—cis & trans—hate this bill than men, to be honest. 

  3. Sometimes a girl gets tired of calling it a locker room. 

  4. Not necessarily in that order. 

I’m Not Lazy, My Mother Had Me Tested

I think I broke my toe/foot on Thursday afternoon. I’m not sure how, but I think I kicked the side of the pool yesterday afternoon when I was in it. I know it started hurting around that time. And I had trouble putting my shoe back on when I was getting dressed. 

At first, my just seemed sprained, except that the pain wasn’t going away. I iced it and that didn’t help. I decided to try and ignore it, which also didn’t help. 

Moving it is next to impossible and, like I already mentioned, it’s swollen. The pain has been pretty bad, but I really am trying to ignore that as much as possible.  The big thing is that the bruise started worsening. It was one spot, but it is now my whole little toe, plus spots on the toe next to it, the top of my foot, the side of my foot, and the bottom of my foot. 

But the bruise spreading so much could have something to do with the 2.16 miles I walked today.1 Broken bones have never really done much to stop me. Sprains, sure. Fractures, nah.2 

I am going to take the next day or two off from exercise, but that’s mainly because I’ve exercised for five days in a row. 

And I’m back to religiously taking my Vitamin D.3


  1. Which I’m using to mock some body-shaming trolls who think that overweight & obese people are lazy. Middle fingers always up to those lovely human beings. 

  2. My orthopedist used to have to replace  or reinforce casts I wore for the foot I broke three times. I would bust the bottom out of it from walking too much or doing ballet for a dance tryout with it on. 

  3. It was dumb of me to not take it for several months given the severity of my ongoing Vitamin D deficiency.