I don't know what it is about the Olympics.  For two weeks I said goodbye to my usual group of characters -- Locke, Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Jack Bauer, Patty Hewes, and Liz Lemon -- like they were yesterday's news and said hello to an entirely foreign troupe of characters with unpronounceable names like Lysacek and Svindal.

I am always transfixed by the theatrics of these athletes and I suspect you were, too.  Every two years, no matter if it's winter or summer, we are summoned to our television sets, to sit back in awe and wonder as we think about whether we, too, can achieve such greatness.

But the thing is, we are in the running to achieve such greatness.  We just don't have the audience, the podium, the gold medals, or the pageantry of the national anthem and flag waving high above us in the sky.  Each and every day we are called upon to fight through one or more symptoms that cause others to whimper.  If only we could pop two Advil for our headache and call it a day.  Or call up the national press to let them know we're injured and in pain.

Managing our disease(s) requires great skill; mastering the idiosyncrasies of living with them requires great discipline on a par with our Olympic heroes.  Traversing moguls isn't much unlike navigating through a day with stomach cramps and surprise joint pains brought on by a rain storm.  Ensuring that our emotions and bodies are steady and ready to weather the roller coaster of symptoms requires a commitment to sleep that doesn't come easy to some (me!) and we need alarm clocks with three alarms to blast through the fatigue that keeps us nestled in our beds.  Olympic athletes recruit teams of experts to develop sleep strategies specific to their needs so they can maintain the edge that keeps them at the top of their game.  We'd be wise to follow their lead and start sleeping like an athlete.

There are days when I feel like a cross country skier huffing and puffing my way through my day, only to collapse on my couch with legs splayed out like a cat in a very un-womanly like position.  (You know you do it, too.)  I am constantly seeking strategies to prevent this unfortunate end to my day.  I'd much rather cruise through the front door and land a Double McTwist 1260 on my couch, wouldn't you?

In the past few months, I've come to terms with my lack of discipline when it comes to managing my health.  I have been fighting against my diseases like a battering ram (clearly my chosen style growing up as the youngest sister of boys), but my boyfriend has brought to my attention an alternate way:  he practices judo and shared that judo means "the gentle way."  The primary principle of judo is to use your opponent's strength to defeat him.  I suspect many athletes achieve their goals with this winning strategy.  You don't have to beat up your opponent to beat him.  Ahhh, very wise sensei.

I'm giving this gentler way a try and instilling more discipline into my life, in the hopes that I will ascend onto the podium of life and earn myself a gold medal. Or at least a few more pain free nights out with my friends.

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I've always loved Robert Downey, Jr.  Who doesn't? The guy is hot!

He's gone from Less than Zero to multi-multi-multi-million-dollar superhero.  So I'm secretly hoping he'll charge up his Iron Man costume and swoop into my house any moment now ... and hold my hand.

You see, I've really been on top of my health care appointments lately.  I started off 2010 with a streak of appointments one after another, every week.  It felt really good to keep crossing them off the list, even though some are repeating tasks that keep me visiting the same doctor for what feels like the same appointment over and over again, like I'm caught in a time loop (LOST, anyone?!?).

One of these appointments was a visit to the cardiologist to investigate skipping and racing heartbeats (no, these are not courtesy of my boyfriend).  I've had this problem before and it was caused by medications, or so "they" thought -- but that was in the pre-lupus era, so I figured I'd better check things out.

What I didn't count on:  my new THIRTY DAY badge of honor, my own personal Tony Stark-inspired heart monitor.  How is a girl supposed to wind the wires in and out of a blouse, then hook the event monitor onto her clothes, all the while looking stylish and professional?

This is a challenge I will dutifully take on for the next month.  For my doctor.  For all of you.  And for Iron Man, my new Sensei.

P.S. - It doesn't help my flagging motivation that Iron Man 2 isn't due in theaters until May 7.

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As suspected, I've fallen in love with my pretty new turquoise iPhone.  My infatuation is a combination of the power of making the sleek white phone turquoise (my favorite color) and customizing it to my heart's content with all of the apps.  Confession:  the first night I had it, I hid under the covers downloading apps while my boyfriend slept.

App Count:  Boyfriend, 3.  Kristin, 25.

I discovered this Medscape app from WebMD (iTunes link) that enables you to check your medication interactions.  Recently my pain specialist and I have been toying with the idea of taking me off of my opioid pain patch and she suggested trying me on Cymbalta again.  I reminded her that I didn't like Cymbalta the first time because it made me sleepy and she suggested that it may not have been a side effect, but may in fact have been an interaction with one of my medications.  She then suggested we have my pharmacy research the interactions when the time comes for me to come off the pain patch and take Cymbalta again.  When the time comes?  I would rather know now if there's a risk, before I decide to alter my medications, thank you very much.

So, thanks to my cool Medscape app, I did a little investigating of my own.  It turns out that Cymbalta could have a "serious or life-threatening interaction" with one of my must-take-every-day narcolepsy medications.  I also discovered several other "significant" or "serious" interactions amongst my other medications that I will report back to my rheumatologist, pain specialist, and GI specialist.

This has me thinking:  Who is responsible for making sure my medication cocktail is safe?  Who is going to help me sort out side effects versus symptoms?  My doctors apparently aren't checking each and every medication (even though I give them my medication list at every visit).  My pain specialist said we would have to make a special request of the pharmacist to look into the interactions.

I've scared myself into taking responsibility for an aspect of my health care that I thought someone else was managing.  It just goes to show that only one person is in charge of your health care -- you.  It's always you.

And that's a tough pill to swallow when some of your pills are making you sick.

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