Dear Body, Cut the Crap

Let me start off with a couple of good things before I begin bitching.  I can breathe again, and I can walk.  All good stuff.

I’ve been wired for the past week, month…I really don’t know.  I’m posting more nonsense here than is typical, which is more or less evidence of brain on turbo that can’t handle the speed.  It’s a whole lot to process at a time, so I’m in a constant state of over-stimulation.  I’ve gone through ‘get’shit’done’ phases that start very much like this one and I use them to knock all of the things off of the to do list that generally don’t get done unless I’ve got ants in my pants.  I don’t know if this is that.  It could be, and being unable to physically purge this excess energy is literally making me lose my mind.  The only thing that’s clear is my brain is being a douche.

I started having swallowing difficulties not too long ago, then my face started to go numb shortly after, then I started choking in my sleep which gave me some pretty cool dreams of surfing, then drowning or being choked out by manchild.  I can sit around and try to figure it out, because it’s what I do even when I don’t really care.  It’s me on auto-pilot.  I figured out that I don’t really care.  If I did, I might schedule follow-ups, I might put a little more effort into making sure I get to those appointments, but I don’t.  I want to feel better, and feeling better means not going to the doctor since they’ve been telling me there’s nothing they can do long enough that I don’t see the point of giving them any more money.

I get reprimanded when I end up in the ER, like maybe if I had gone to my completely unnecessary and physically exhausting appointments, I wouldn’t need emergency care.  Maybe in an ideal world, but that’s not the world I live in.

I was going to make brownies over the weekend.  I pulled the butter and cream cheese out to soften, then got the rest of the ingredients out.  Mise en place.  I started to feel incredibly weird.  Like a combination of weakness, and feeling like the floor had fallen out from under me and I was tumbling down a hole.  I figured it was a mean case of tachy, so I sat down on the floor where I stood immediately and leaned against the cabinets waiting for it to pass.  My next recollection was of manchild kneeling next me saying my name loudly as I was sprawled out on the floor.  Definitely not where I had parked myself, and I have no memory of actually blacking out.  He propped me up against the cabinets again, and we sat there for a while.  It took me a minute to figure out why I was even in the kitchen in the first place, and then slowly I pulled it together and felt more lucid.  Lucid enough to realize I needed to change my pants, because, well you know what happened.

I went to the ER and the only thing I could report was feeling like I was on the demon drop at the beginning of the episode and that I had pissed my britches by the time it was all over.  It was nice to have a half-witness for once.  He said when he found me I was lying on my side in the middle of the kitchen and my eyes were open, but no one was home.  I had a CT to rule out aneurysm or stroke, which was normal.  Labs were normal for me (all over the place).  The ER doc consulted neuro, and based on what we told them, I had most likely had a complex partial seizure.  So that was fun.  I was given fluids and benzos so they could feel like they had done something for me, then discharged with a pending appointment to the asshole neurologist.  Goddamnit, I hate that guy.  I should’ve made the referral appointment before this happened, but nope, don’t care.  This may have been a one time thing, or this could become a new thing I have to deal with.  Only time will tell.

Today I saw my primary doctor.  He yelled at me for not following up with neuro sooner, I told him if he had met the asshole, he’d understand…and really…what the fuck can he do anyhow?  I asked for a Tramadol refill, and he said it’s my last one until I schedule an appointment to have ortho look at my back.  Uh, hey Mister, the Tramadol isn’t for my back…it’s for the other 50% of my body that feels like it has been dipped into a deep fryer.  I didn’t argue with him, because I’m never in the mood to argue with them.  If someone needs to be yelled at, manchild is perfectly happy to do it, as embarrassing as it is for me.  I don’t know wtf his deal is – dangling pain medication in front of me like a carrot that
I can have as long as I’m a good patient.  Is this tough love or complete bullshit?

My AV surgery is supposed to be tomorrow, but I got a call from the hospital this afternoon saying it’s postponed.  I wasn’t given a reason, and wasn’t given a date.  I’m supposed to call back after the first of March?  YAY.

7 thoughts on “Dear Body, Cut the Crap

  1. Dude… I mean, really… dude… You’ve become a rat for doctors to experiment on. But I’m so glad to hear from you. I was wondering where you were, and hoping you didn’t overdose on cream cheese brownies. 🙂

    Looking at your list of diagnoses, I don’t see epilepsy. And it seems like that this was an epileptic seizure. What do you think?

    So, is your doctor saying that the ortho will now be prescribing the Tramadol? Do you foresee a problem with that? Regarding the Tramadol, did you know it can cause hypoglycemia? Could that be the cause of your seizure?

    I know you’re tired of all this shit, and here I am playing doctor. Sorry, but I can’t help it. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • My husband said I wasn’t convulsing or twitching at all, but I guess not all types of seizures make a person spaz out. Some even cause crying or laughing as the only symptom. The ER doc was pretty certain it was a seizure, though he said it’s up to neuro to confirm it, which will only happen if I happen to have another seizure while I’m having an EEG. Or it’s possible I have seizures all of the time that I’m not aware of and it’ll be obvious, but it’s totally out of character for me to make it easy for them.

      I have read Tramadol can cause hypoglycemia, although I haven’t had any super low readings in months. Tramadol can lower seizure threshold, along with a few other of the medications I take, so maybe they revealed an underlying epileptic disorder I was never aware of.

      I think my doctor may have gotten shit from the pharmacy for over-prescribing, at least by their regulations. When we vacationed in Ohio for a month, he gave me a bottle of 240, when normally 60 is the maximum quantity dispensed at a single time. If that’s not it, either he’s trying to motivate me, or leave pain management to people who have a better idea how to go about it. I think he’s doing just fine, at least I did until he decided to take his bad Monday out on me 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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