Ughgh, I don't have the motivation to tell you the minutiae of my boring life. In brief, because I can't be arsed and I can't imagine you are either;
Last night Axl took himself to A&E (ER if you're American) because his burning, pressing mid-chest pains that happened this time last year (clear scans, went away in the end, he thought he'd inhaled battery acid at work and google told her the symptoms were identical, long story) were so bad. I'd been trying to get him to go to the GP, but in fairness, last year the GP was clueless.
Despite hours of waiting in boiling heat that made him have to go throw up (isn't tropical heat in hospitals rather germ-encouraging?) he got a couple great doctors. They ruled out heart issues and pointed out that the diapraghm area of the pain is not his chest, but his stomach (all good, though, as chest pains get you seen quicker). So, it's acid. That was something we considered, but as heart issues are far scarier, we obviously focussed on that... He's been given a prescription and if it doesn't help within ten days, he has the joy of swallowing a camera to look forward to.
The good: He hasn't had a cigarette since Tuesday. And he's conceded that he should probably stop living on cheese and white bread sandwiches. I'm relieved.
I need to stop being hypocritical and make a breast check appointment. I'm having pre-period tenderness in one boob (the one that always has things change in it, hmmmm) and with post breastfeeding, ageing boobs it's hard to tell what's lumpy and what's just ducts and whatnot. So back I will go to my lovely Boston gynae Deirdre and let her feel me up. She's the only person I've had intimate physical contact with in the last five or six years, imagine that? I even shave myself and wear matching underwear for her.
In other health news, my last 6 month prescription of anti-depressants is done, and I haven't gone to the new doctor I want to go to to renew it. I'll probably have to have an appointment to do so, and I'd rather spend the €75 on the breast check than the €65 on the appoinment. I'd quite like to keep making the dietary and lifestyle changes that will feed my brain right and see if that helps at all, rather than continuing to take the pills indefinitely. I'm sure I'll change my mind in the next week of PMS though. They do block all the crying, which is kind of boring to deal with daily off them... but part of me thinks that like being on the pill, you need to build in a period every now and then instead of stopping it happening. What happens to all the tears if you stop them being shed?
I went to a financial advice session about building a trust for your dependent child on Wednsday. You can bet I cried there. We have no one to be guardian for the kids, have a talked about that before? No one who knows their daily lives, accompanies them to their events or appoinments (not that we really have those). And to ask anyone to take on Olivia would be to ask them to ruin their lives... we have no one we can ask that of. Optimism is so dangerous. What the fuck was I thinking, having children? I know - I was thinking that things would work out. Improve. That I would be able to become the person I wanted to be. That I would be loved. That I would realise my potential. These positive idealism are encouraged. Beware of them. Perhaps knowing your limits is important if you are not a limit-busting person.
Last night Axl took himself to A&E (ER if you're American) because his burning, pressing mid-chest pains that happened this time last year (clear scans, went away in the end, he thought he'd inhaled battery acid at work and google told her the symptoms were identical, long story) were so bad. I'd been trying to get him to go to the GP, but in fairness, last year the GP was clueless.
Despite hours of waiting in boiling heat that made him have to go throw up (isn't tropical heat in hospitals rather germ-encouraging?) he got a couple great doctors. They ruled out heart issues and pointed out that the diapraghm area of the pain is not his chest, but his stomach (all good, though, as chest pains get you seen quicker). So, it's acid. That was something we considered, but as heart issues are far scarier, we obviously focussed on that... He's been given a prescription and if it doesn't help within ten days, he has the joy of swallowing a camera to look forward to.
The good: He hasn't had a cigarette since Tuesday. And he's conceded that he should probably stop living on cheese and white bread sandwiches. I'm relieved.
I need to stop being hypocritical and make a breast check appointment. I'm having pre-period tenderness in one boob (the one that always has things change in it, hmmmm) and with post breastfeeding, ageing boobs it's hard to tell what's lumpy and what's just ducts and whatnot. So back I will go to my lovely Boston gynae Deirdre and let her feel me up. She's the only person I've had intimate physical contact with in the last five or six years, imagine that? I even shave myself and wear matching underwear for her.
In other health news, my last 6 month prescription of anti-depressants is done, and I haven't gone to the new doctor I want to go to to renew it. I'll probably have to have an appointment to do so, and I'd rather spend the €75 on the breast check than the €65 on the appoinment. I'd quite like to keep making the dietary and lifestyle changes that will feed my brain right and see if that helps at all, rather than continuing to take the pills indefinitely. I'm sure I'll change my mind in the next week of PMS though. They do block all the crying, which is kind of boring to deal with daily off them... but part of me thinks that like being on the pill, you need to build in a period every now and then instead of stopping it happening. What happens to all the tears if you stop them being shed?
I went to a financial advice session about building a trust for your dependent child on Wednsday. You can bet I cried there. We have no one to be guardian for the kids, have a talked about that before? No one who knows their daily lives, accompanies them to their events or appoinments (not that we really have those). And to ask anyone to take on Olivia would be to ask them to ruin their lives... we have no one we can ask that of. Optimism is so dangerous. What the fuck was I thinking, having children? I know - I was thinking that things would work out. Improve. That I would be able to become the person I wanted to be. That I would be loved. That I would realise my potential. These positive idealism are encouraged. Beware of them. Perhaps knowing your limits is important if you are not a limit-busting person.
6 comments:
Both my mother and my husband visited the ER thinking they might be having a heart attack when, in fact, yes, it was reflux. Can be very, very painful.
Health care sort of sucks everywhere, doesn't it?
P.S. We have children because we have sex.
Only 50% in my case - the other was a conscious choice. And I wanted them - I'd wanted them so much, for so long.
Just FYI a gallstone attack can feel like terrible pain and pressure just under the breastbone. TERRIBLE pain. Lots of people think they're having a heart attack.
Huh. They didn't ask that. Could be it, though. He's got his acid prescription and hasn't had any issue today, so hopefully that will continue and be conclusive. .
Oh, they DID ask that, and were surprised the dr last year didn't. (Stupid GPs!)
But, since he took the first pill Friday night, he's been perfectly ok. And he's still not smoking...
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