Man, am I sick and tired of writing these things through a fog of the effects of bad sleep.
Dizzy, disoriented, floaty head, faint tingling throughout the body, and all the rest.
Oh well. I came home from the hospital to find a message from Ray from Coastal Sleep (my CPAP people) saying he wants me to call him back and book an appointment.
Hopefully, this means the funding for new gear came through and we can move on to me getting back on CPAP and not waking up feeling like I ran a marathon underwater wearing a two ton anchor around my neck ever again.
Here’s hopin’, anyway.
Speaking of the hospital, I had another odd attack while I was there. Again, there way no pain, but a chill went through me and suddenly I felt weak and anxious and I had that “heartburn” feeling that worries me so much.
And I really have no excuse for not telling anyone about it because I was in the freaking hospital surrounded by highly competent medical personnel who would have reacted immediately and maybe told me whether there was something wrong with my heart or whether it was something else or even just my imagination.
Heck, at the end of my session. Doctor Vortel was sitting at a desk right in front of me. It would have been trivial to ask him about it.
Might have gone nowhere, might have led to my suddenly being admitted amidst a flurry of concerned activity. And anywhere in between.
But I would at least have done the medically responsible and sane thing for once.
Alas, no. I was too miserable and eager to GTFO and go home to think of it.
I am really not cut out for survival. Which is bad because surviving is getting harder every fucking day.
All I can say it, I do what I can.
Maybe I will tell someone about it when I am at the hospital tomorrow. I know it won’t be easy for me to speak up and demand attention due to my social anxiety and/or avoidant personality disorder’s bullshit fears.
Stupid petty limitation. I deserve better.
After all, I’m awesome.
I know that when I am done here, I will need yet more sleep.
And let me tell you, knowing you have n choice but to go back to sleep even though sleep kicked your ass last time and will do so again is…. not fun.
Gives one a feeling of being doomed if one dwells on it too long.
Oh well, I shall just fall back on my fatalism. All I can do is what I can, and whatever is going to happen is gonna happen.
I’m not in charge here. All I can do is play my hand the best I can, and hope that it will be enough to keep me alive.
Really feels like I am trying to beat the house, and that’s not good, because axiomatically the house always wins.
But I don’t want to die, or end up in a wheelchair, or in a hospital bed fulla tubes and in constant intractable pain, or anything else like that.
So all I can do is play the best game I can, and hope.
More after the break.
Too sick to have fun
What I was worried about has come to pass : I was too sick and frail to go out to McD’s with my friends tonight.
Worse, I was even too sick to virtually attend Felicity’s comedy show tonight, and I was really looking forward to that, but both my physical and my emotional coping resources are far too depleted for it.
And I am worried about my health. That strange feeling from before has not gone away. I still have this weird cold feeling in my chest, right about where my heart is, and I feel weak and frail and anxious all the time.
And that “heartburn” feeling just won’t go away. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I ate, so it could be acid reflux or the like.
But I do not have a history of such ailments.
So I am monitoring my situation very closely. If things get worse, like serious pain starts happening or my heart starts racing or whatever, I am calling 911 and getting my ass to the ER pronto.
Heart conditions are too serious to fuck around with.
Serious like a heart attack, in fact.
I don’t think I have mentioned this yet : I called a Doctor Lichtenstein. Turned out to be the wrong one. Of course.
But the wrong one’s secretary gave me the number of the right one. I called that number and got their voice mail. The voice mail message listed three different doctors.
None of them were named Lichtenstein.
So I left a very confused voice-mail saying I was given this number for the right Doctor Lichtenstein (Kevin) and was sorry if this was the wrong number and so on.
About an hour later I got a call from somebody’s secretary telling me that my surgery had, in fact, been transferred to its fourth surgeon, a Doctor Paul Bui, pronounced “boo-ee”, of all things.
The secretary then told me I would be hearing from Doctor Bui’s office Real Soon Now and he would schedule my surgery then.
I have my fucking doubts. When I got my angiogram results I got the distinct impression that I needed surgery right away. And yet the people over at Cardiac Surgery are displaying a shocking lack of any urgency on the matter.
I thought that maybe once I got my echocardiogram (heart ultrasound) things would start happening, but all that happened was that my surgery got handed off to its FOURTH surgeon and nobody at St. Paul’s seems to give a shit about this purportedly serious heart condition of mine.
And it’s getting worse.
I swear, if I end up having a heart attack before they get around to fixing my heart, I am going to sue the fuck out of these bastards for letting it happen.
There is definitely something very fishy going on at St, Paul’s. Something on the administrative side. That one time wasn’t the only time I have called a number and not heard the name of the doctor I was looking for. My surgery getting passed on from surgeon to surgeon is a very bad sign. It seems a lot like task-shirking and I do not consider my remaining alive to be shirkable.
Let alone shirkworthy.
I have Doctor Bui’s number now and I am going to call his office on Monday and I am not going to be particularly polite.
Time for this wheel to start squeaking. I want to talk to the surgeon himself. I want to know what the timeframe for my fucking surgery is going to be. I want some indication that they grasp that I would prefer not to die and that it’s their fucking job to prevent it so they need to quit fucking around and get the job done.
I am willing to go full Karen on this shit.
Because this is literally my life we’re talking about.
It’s very important to me personally.
I will make it at least as important to them.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.