God Has a Twisted Sense of Humor Sometimes…
Sometimes Life can hand you a pretty mixed bag. Good news liberally mixed with terrible news. Some glimmering minor miracle discovered while shoveling out an Aegean stable load of manure…
Let me explain…
I have a very… odd.. Health history.
One day I will just *get* something like high blood pressure. And not just high… but unbelievably so. We’re talking *So* high they cannot even *find* what the top number is and the bottom one? Somewhere above 170. At the same time, my *resting* heart rate goes to 140 beats per minute.
They were afraid I would stroke out on the examining room table. I was immediately placed in the heart trauma ward of the local hospital and hooked up to several recording devices. A slew of tests was performed (though many were cancelled because.. Yeah.. Fear of causing outright death if I so much as stood up or climbed a few stairs.) In other words, *Crazy high*.
Two weeks before, it was high normal. 134/87.
So, after five years of meds, scans, and various other treatments, I was put on “maintenance” and we moved on to other things…
One afternoon, a few months later, my blood pressure was suddenly too *low*. *Crazy low*. 90 /58.
They stopped the meds I was on immediately, and… my blood pressure was once again high normal.
The meds they put me on for my “deadly” condition nearly killed me because I was somehow “magically all better”. *Facepalm*
Yes. I just *got* it one day and , for no discernable reason, then had it just “go away”.
I’m a mutant that way.
My Primary Doctor says that I am the patient that keeps him humble. Almost *every* medical test comes back the same… high normal.. (I’ve always been a high achiever…) *Evil Grin*
After several different things of this kind and magnitute… absolutely *impossible* strangeness of that kind, My doctor and I tend to take diagnosis with a rather large shaker of salt.
When I went into the hospital last year, I apparently drove the staff nuts due to my adamant disbelief I had diabetes. All of a sudden. With *no* warning signals.
I would tell them, “Look, I am 45 years old, 385lbs, have numbness in my hands and feet, and wounds that never heal. Do you *Really* think my doctor doesn’t check for diabetes at least every once in a while?”
My AIC in Feb of that year was 7. (High normal). When I hit the hospital it was 16. After two days of insulin and *massive* quantities of steroids for my heart and lungs it *dropped* to 14.
Finally, the coordination Doctor (“Doctor Mary”, a fiery 5’5” lady with a wicked sense of humor) came in to my room and told me that I needed to knock it off because I was driving my nurses crazy.
I started to argue with her and she shushed me (bwahahahahaha) and told me to *pretend* if I had to, but stop driving her staff nuts.
So I said, “Fine! Send them in. I’ll be good. I have diabetes.” *grin*
So I learned how to inject insulin and measure and track my blood sugars and such. Gave up fried foods and most flours and sugars. My AIC last month was 6. (High normal…) *face palm*
The *one* thing I didn’t doubt was my overall health after that visit. Several doctors sat down with Shawna and I and explained my heart was the size of a football, was causing pinpoint bleeds on my Left lung and that I would be *lucky* to survive a few weeks, much less until Halloween. It was October 11th.
I asked to go home and they agreed, saying there really wasn’t anything more they could do for me in the hospital.
Before we left, “Doctor Mary” stopped by and sat down with Shawna and I and talked turkey for a while. Explained again how I would be dead soon and needed to get my affairs in order. Gave us tips on what we could try and do to buy a few more days. Nice lady, terrible news. Shawna and I bawled our eyes out for a while, and then put our “brave” faces on and went home. To die…….
I hooked up the air and ran it 24/7. Cut my fluids and foods. (I never ate really heavy anyways, but now I barely ate at all..) Did everything we *could* to buy another hour. Another day together.
Halloween came and went and I was still kicking around. Then Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And the first of the Year. At this point we had affirmed the diagnosis and knew I was shortiming it. I started smoking cigars because I figured I would enjoy my last few ?days?. Days turned to weeks, then months.
Other things of import happened during that time frams, but I am focusing on this thing, My heart was damaged and I was going to die from it. Period. It has been the central fact we face everyday and colors every decision we have made together and as a family since last year.
Anyhow… back to today…
As many of you know, I have undergone a truly *massive* amount of tests and imaging techniques over the past little bit trying to identify my pain source and convince the Pain Doctor to actually treat my pain… so I can at least spend my admittedly “last few days” as best I could.
Then.. to top it all off…
Here I am ready to end my life daily when….
Today I got some interesting news…..
They found a mass in my left lung….. (Possibly?Cancer?) o.O
I have a 6 inch hernia in my belly (I knew this, obviously) (D’uh!)
I have a varicosity in my left abdomen of undetermined size and location…(Interesting…)
Ready for it?……
My heart is roughly “normal” and “healthy” again…
Say that again?!?!!!! O.O
We know this because right after deciding to get a surgical consult about the hernia thing and the vein thing early next week, An *interesting exchange occurred with my Primary and myself…
(We are on “hold” for three weeks or so anyway.. and morphine is pretty non-discriminating about *what* pain it works on.. so if I let them cut on me, they *will* IV me some decent pain relief… for a while… and maybe let me “catch my breath” for a few days…)
I had just brought up the possibility that the “mass” was *not* “cancer”(Oh brother! *Sigh*) but might instead be caused simply by more pinpoint bleeds from my huge heart pressing against my lung again, my Primary nonchalantly hit me with the….
“Nah. Can’t be. Your last scan showed your heart was normal.”
Blink…. Blink…. Blink…
“What?! People with Congestive Heart Failure just don’t “Get better”! Ever! In the history of Ever!.” Was my even-tempered and calm reply… Sort of…
(I was mildly surprised…. what can I say?)
He answered that I was his
patient, remember? And laughed a bit.
Now I might (heavy on that might.. btw) have cancer, *BUT*…….
Welcome to my crazy circus!