‘ere, he says he’s not dead

But this weekend sure scared me enough to think I wasn’t too far behind.

Okay, that is more than a little hyperbolic, but having to have to go to the emergency room was more than a little jarring.

I had a pretty bad episode on Saturday – HSTeacher had to take me to the emergency room because it lasted much longer than usual. As a rule the epidoses come and go, with maybe a minute or so per episode at the most.

However, when HSTeacher was taking me to the train which would take me home in time for a cable guy appointment (I was planning to join the 21st century and get high-speed internet), I felt an episode start.

We got to the train station and had a few minutes to wait, but the episode just kept happening, even though I did all my usual tricks to calm myself, such as breathing exercises. I warned HSTeacher that I might not be able to get on the train, but I also said that maybe we should get to the platform to see how I felt. We got to the platform and I had to lean against a pole. It was not good, so I sat down for a few moments while he held me, then we went back to his place.

I laid down, thinking that maybe I needed to rest a bit, but we started to look up emergency rooms in the area, just in case. Ten minutes later I told my honey that we had to go to the emergency room, because my whole body started tingling. I sat up and swung my legs over the side, but the thought of standing on my own was too much to bear, so HSTeacher had to help me up and helped me out to his car. I could walk, but it was slow going and I was more than a little wobbly.

We got to the hopsital and, as we parked, a new symptom appeared: my right hand just started shaking, though not for long. We did the whole check-in rigmarole and soon afterwards the nurses got me into the triage portion, though I had to wait quite a while for a technician to perform my EKG – the hospital was extremely busy. Of course, as is the case of every other EKG I’ve had since October, it was a lovely EKG in every way, suitable for framing. However, not everything was so hunky dory: my normally on-the-low-side-of-normal blood pressure was up to 143/82 and my heart rate was at 101 – the chances are that it had come down by that point.

Since it was ascertained that I wasn’t having a heart attack – at least not at that moment – back out to the waiting room I went (HSTeacher had been chased out of the triage area earlier due to space issues – too many people back there as well). So we waited for another few hours, with his arm around my shoulder, my head on his shoulder and his head resting on mine. At one point I was feeling better and he was starting to doze, so we switched and I rested his head on my chest. We were way too sweet for words.

All told we were in the emergency room for about five to six hours. Finally I asked one of the nurses if she had a rough estimate about much longer it would be before my name was called. Because of the extreme business of the ER, she couldn’t even give me a ballpark figure. At that point I was feeling much better (though very tired) so we left, because we could have been sitting there for another three to four, if not more. (One guy had gotten there three hours before we did – at 5am – and he was still waiting at 1pm)

So Saturday’s episode lasted over three hours. Worst. Epiosde. Ever.

I also started my period on Saturday, which didn’t help me feel any better. The whole day was me sleeping off and on, HSTeacher being very solicitous, trying to keep his kids as quiet as possible, bringing me a heating pad for my abdomen and making sure I got the sleep I needed. Admittedly there was one time we clashed, but that was through a misunderstanding that we cleared up, and he was the perfect boyfriend. Of course.

Sunday I was still feeling off, but well enough to head back home and attend a political meeting. MusicianMan and I talked a bit about what’s been going on with me and he made some good suggestions, also agreeing with what I’ve been doing to narrow this thing down.

I am feeling much better now. I went for my previously scheduled follow-up this morning, where a new wrinkle entered the scene. My blood pressure decided to have a little fun today. Around 9:30am it was taken and registered at 116/72. Pretty good. But, only an hour later it was taken again. This time? 130/83. And thirty minutes later my docotor took my blood pressure again, in both arms, with the old fashioned stethescope/BP cuff method, and it hovered around 140/85.

For criminey’s sake.

So Doc is putting me on a low dose of beta blockers. And baby aspirin.

Woo Fucking Hoo.

Who knows what’s going on? I sure don’t. But I am going to continue to work on my eating habits, just to see how much that helps, and I’m going to eat out a lot less than I have. Instead I’m going to prepare a lot more of my own foods, eat as much organic food as possible, because there is the possibility I’ve developed a sensitivity to something. And get right back on the supplements that I negelected a little last week because my schedule was thrown off so much. And I’ll know next week the results of my Holter monitor test.

I’m really getting tired of all of this. Can I go back to feeling relatively healthy again? Please?

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