Mood:  hug me

So I’ve been having some rather scary unexplained health dealios lately. Chronic fatigue, high blood pressure, pins and needles, sweaty as a two bit whore, word retrieval issues, out of breath, dizzy and a whole host of other fun stuff! Started a few weeks ago, and my Spatchmo man gene required that I ignore it and tough it out as I had a major event coming.

Major event comes and I am a puddle of icy sweat, can’t catch my breath and my hands and feet are asleep. Whoops. Apparently, I have let this go too far. Rubbing some dirt in it isn’t going to cut it this time for recovery purposes.

Off to the doc I head. I won’t go in to all the details of the ride thus far but there have been some humorous bits in amongst the drama and trauma.

My cardio doctor thinks I’m insane. I’m used to dealing with my regular doc who doesn’t flinch when I say things like “sweaty as a whore”. He just deletes the entry in his notes and laughs and laughs and laughs. After 9 years together, he gets me. I like that.

So anywho I’m telling the cardio doctor about how totally bloated I’ve been and that I had horrible fluid build up in my legs and feet – edema. They looked like bed ridden granny feet. Either that or a side of boiled pork hocks. Blech! He examines them and says “There’s very little build up here.” And I tell him that’s because I got it to go down. He asks how. I say “I just got on my back and put my legs above my head.”

His lazy eye focused sharply in on me with that statement.

‘Oh I only wish I did it that way!’ I snort

The eye stares.

Erm. I mean I uh. Shite. I uh massaged them to get the blood flow going and figured gravity would help the effort? Timidly smiles.

Now my doc would have been crying with laughter, shaking his head and thoroughly enjoying himself. I am his favorite patient. He wishes he ran into me outside the office “like in the vegetable aisle at the market”.

I’ll be sure to tell him about it next time. He’ll still laugh until he cries.

Off to bed and lipid tests tomorrow. Wish I didn’t almost keel over every 3 steps. Shites getting old apparently much like I am.

Remember kids—getting old is not for sissies!