|There's a lighthouse sending me light right now from all of you. Thank you.|
A quick update, if you like. For a few days I'd been having severe chest pains but thought it was because I've been on some seriously harsh medicine and hadn't been eating much. I decided to go to the gym on Monday to see if I just needed to get moving to feel better. Kind of stupid rationale, but I figured if it WAS acid or an esophageal spasm, then working out wouldn't make me feel worse.
Twenty minutes into the workout I realized things weren't going right, that I was in cold sweats, not regular hey gal, you're getting a good work-out sweats. I called my doctor, and was told to go immediately to the ER, which was two miles away.
I was seen immediately, given nitroglycerin several times, a chest X-ray, and a CAT scan in case I had a blood clot in my lung, which would have made sense as I've been lying down about 90% of the time since October. Because they couldn't rule out heart attack, they admitted me and decided to give me a stress test in the morning.
I don't do well at doctors or hospitals (who does?) but what helped (other than your wonderful notes of encouragement and prayers) was my husband and son coming in to see me before bed time. Zack had brought his Nook in and made me a get well card:
And I also made sure to ask for the stuffed hippo Zack's given me for particularly bad pain days. I can't tell you how many people peeked in the door just to smile at that hippo. Teddy bears and rabbits they see a lot of, they said, but not hippopotamuses.
The stress test showed that my heart was fine, and it also showed I truly despise tread mills. The doctor decided the lupus and rheumatoid arthritis were probably starting to mess with my body, this time affecting the cartilage in my rib cage. I have something called costochondritis, and while it's not life-threatening, boy it hurts like hell. The best way to describe it is being stabbed in the middle of the chest and then being hit again with a brick. Anti-inflammatories, heat, and rest and I should feel just fine in a week (plus I had acupuncture today). But the doctor also told me to realize I can probably count on adding this to my long list of "what the heck is wrong with that chick?".
Now here's the really AWESOME THING about all this.
A few weeks ago, a woman I know only via Facebook (Lisa A., a TRUE ANGEL) emailed me that she'd talked to her own doctor in Connecticut about me, and her doctor said I should see a specific doctor in Washington, DC. Rick checked and we found out our insurance WOULD allow me to change doctors. Then we found out the doctor wasn't taking new patients.
Enter this amazingly kind woman from Facebook again, who told her doctor, and that doctor personally contacted the doctor in Washington, DC (seriously, woah, WAY beyond the call of duty but FULL of good karma). The doctor in DC said, true, he was no longer taking new patients, BUT he DID see patients at the Washington Hospital Center at a special Lupus Clinic in the rheumatology department, and if I sent my blood work and patient files, they'd see if I was a candidate.
Within an hour of Rick bringing me home from the hospital, we got a call from the center. Rick told them about what I'd just been through, and that really clinched it -- I'm in. I go to see the doctor in Washington DC next Tuesday.
NEXT TUESDAY. Not in three months, as we expected.
No one can tell me that Facebook is a waste of time, and no one can tell me there isn't power in prayer and healing thoughts. No one.
Thank you all from the bottom of my happy, healthy heart.
(powered by pie)