I claim I don't want to be simply the sum of my conditions, but at the moment I rather feel like that's exactly what I've become. Assuming I'm perimenopausal (and it seems a sure bet I am, though I shan't have confirmation of that little tidbit until this time next week) I have reason to believe that I will probably bleed out before actually making it to menopause. I had my six-month check up at Big City Hospital for my transplant, and while there I had a MAJOR tampon blowout. It didn't help that they kept me waiting for hours before they saw me, but the freaking tampon was only in use for a few hours before it hit saturation point. Instead of going directly to work, I had to go home and change. Fortunately, I had black jeans on, so the enormity of the problem wasn't as apparent as it could have been.
While at the hospital, it was discovered that while my liver profile was good, my blood pressure was 198 over 90. Now, I've always run a little high, but what the * was this? They waited, took it again in the other arm, and it was 185 over 90. This is definitely not good. With my history, I wanted it checked more thoroughly right away, but Doctor Transplant said to just monitor it at home for a few days, and get back in touch if it didn't go down. Tonight I'm 187 over 102, for what it's worth.
After the check-up I rushed home, got changed, started the laundry, ran to work, and arrived several hours after I thought I'd be back to work. This meant that I definitely had to take a half-day, instead of just making up the time as I'd planned. I hadn't gotten breakfast, and was going to grab a quick bite upon arrival. But five minutes after I got to my office the phone rang. Another department needed me NOW. So I donned white coat and accoutrements, and proceeded to spend an hour reviewing quite a few animals with pneumonia and pericarditis. *sigh* Towards the end, my head was starting to ache. I assumed it was related to my not having eaten, so the minute I got back to my office I made myself a sweet tea and bought a cherry Danish out of the vending machine.
Fifteen minutes later I was flushing the partially digested remains of the sweet tea and cherry Danish down the crapper. To make matters worse ... much worse ... the act of barfing pressured my already active Irritable Bowel into action. I was already poised with my head over the toilet when it hit. And there was no way, with my abdomen already tightening from barfing, to stop the other end from letting loose.
Yes, boys and girls, I crapped my pants.
The first one of you who laughs is friggen dead. Understood?
I cleaned things off as best I could, called my department to inform them that I was coming down with a migraine and was leaving for the day, and then left. I made it home after one of those hell rides that I've previously described doing (is driving while under the influence of a migraine a punishable offense? I mean, other than the punishment one inflicts on one's self while doing said stupid deed.) I got home, threw my clothes in the washing machine, along with the clothes I'd already washed this morning because I hurt too badly to waste time putting them in the drier, and set it to wash. The machine wouldn't turn on. I tried again. The machine wouldn't turn on. I said screw it, took morphine, and went to bed.
Two hours later I was awakened back into pain by my apartment management on the phone. They wanted to know if we'd gotten power back yet? Huh? I looked. Sure enough, all the clocks were out. The fan wasn't running. The air conditioner wasn't conditioning. "No," I said. "We don't have power." The voice promised to check with the electric company again and hung up. I went back to bed, covered my eyes with my arm, and waited for Death, who did not cooperate by showing up and putting me out of my misery. Power did return, with a series of beeps and whooshes as various things turned themselves back on, a few hours later.
I arose a half an hour ago, figuring I'd check my mail, force-feed myself, and return to bed. There's too much email for me to deal with. I'm not hungry. I've made this entry because I felt it was important to chronicle exactly how shitty it is to be me. I'm going back to bed now.