“So pardon me while I burst…”
Hello my loves!
I got a little smug with Monday’s post by saying that this is the best I’ve felt in awhile. I spent all of Tuesday in bed with killer joint pain.
OK, the second I typed ‘killer joint point,’ that episode of Doug where him and Skeeter are obsessed with the song “Killer Tofu” by The Beets popped into my brain. Oooooh weeeee oooooooohhh. KILLER TOFU!!!!
That was the jam.
Moving right along, I received a frantic phone call from the nurse practitioner at my rheumatologist’s office. Dr. M saw my V/Q scan and wants to me get an echo of my heart STAT.
I told her I was doing even better than an echo, that I’m getting a cardiac cath at the end of the month.
C’mon now, I’m on top of that shit. It’s scheduled and I’ve already been in contact with my insurance company because I refuse to have a repeat of what I went through to get a CT scan.
She told me Dr. M still might want me to get an echo, and I explained that unless he wants to give me the money for my copay, I’m not getting one. I had one at Christmas and the cath is at the end of the month.
The franticness (is that a word?) of her call really bothered me. I try not to freak out until I know what I’m dealing with, but this time I can’t help but act like your usual oxygen-deprived cardiac kid.
Her call reinforced that they believe we (I) are dealing with pulmonary hypertension. As I said so eloquently before, that scares the shit out of me. I don’t know of any good outcome.
Usually when the possibility of a new diagnosis is thrown at me, I’m all over The Googles, hitting up message boards and trying to ascertain as much information as I can.
But this time, I can’t do it. My brain is mush.
Ooooooh weeeee ooooooohhhhhh!