Tomorrow will mark four weeks since the night I dragged my two-thirds dead ass into the ER and learned that I wasn’t crazy; something new and different was really wrong with me. I had my first official checkup with Doctor Awesome yesterday, to see how I was taking to the medication and if I was feeling better.
I’m pleased to report that I am definitely feeling better – I’d be truly terrified if I wasn’t, because holy crap you guys I felt so fucking awful before the hospital. Things were so better almost immediately afterwards that I was partially convinced the whole thing was psychosomatic. The medication made a huge difference, and the bloodwork I had done last week showed that things weren’t getting worse (which is awesome). It also showed that my kidneys are super great (I hadn’t really followed up on how my kidneys recovered from the infection of ’12, so I was glad to hear they were back to superstar status), I don’t have diabeetus, and I am definitely not pregnant. All good things!
A lot of the really horrible symptoms I was having have gone away, too. I no longer sound like I’m dying in my sleep, to Ed’s eternal relief. The utterly insane sweating while sleeping, sitting, standing perfectly still, thinking, etc has dramatically lessened, and I mostly don’t feel drained to the point of tears after standing up or getting dressed. I still get swooningly tired much more easily than I should, but I can move around and do things and go for short walks so that’s nice. My chest no longer rattles! I don’t sound like Darth Vader eating Pop Rocks at night! HOORAY!
Not everything is perfect, but I’m slowly getting there. My heart is still broken (wahhhh) and hovering around 20% functionality, so fluid remains an issue. I may need to increase my medication dosage, which is doable because I’m apparently on a crazy low dose of medicine and obviously responding well. A bump in making me pee more isn’t going to hurt – in fact, it’ll probably help. I’ve had a couple barf-up-fluid incidents over the last week, so my next step is to take a double dose of diuretics and spend my days in the bathroom. Good times.
I’m really glad I’ve got permission to work from home when necessary, because all toilets on the floor I work will be out of commission tomorrow and the next day. I am NOT going to increase my pee pills and then work where there are no bathrooms. That is madness.
Missing toilets aside, work has been great about all of this. They know I can do my job from pretty much anywhere, so I have permission to take care of myself and work where I need to. That’s super helpful as I’m so much more productive at home anyway – and not having to feel my misplaced guilt over not physically being in the nest is a big relief. I stress out over the stupidest things, and that’s one of them.
I’ve got an ultrasound scheduled for the end of May, by which point Doc Awesome says I should be only 1/3 dead instead of 2/3. If not, I get more meds. In the meantime, I’m supposed to go see him as soon as I have any weird or worrying symptoms or if I want to go to a really, really crazy nice office staffed with catalogue-handsome people. This is excellent advice, and for once, I will listen to it.
Oh, and I have a medic alert bracelet now. I am clumsy and I wander off a lot, so I thought it best that I have some sort of notification that I’m broken hearted and allergic to penicillin. I am getting really good at common sense! I should write a book.
.. after I get lunch. I’m still not very good at eating, but I’m trying.