Ugh, blood clots. They really are the worst. About three weeks ago, I started having these mysterious pains in my lower left back. It didn't feel like back pain - it felt like something internal, like my kidneys were on fire. I also started having difficulty breathing while I was walking. I like taking 4 and 5 mile-long walks, which don't usually exhaust me, but it was like I needed to sleep for 3 hours every time I took one. Not cool. So the first day back from winter break, I went into work and made two doctor's appointments. One to get this mole removed from my face (holla, mole is gone!) and the second to see what was up with this pain. I kind of had a feeling that it was the whole pulmonary embolism (blood clot in lung) thing, but I wasn't in excruciating pain, so I figured maybe it was something else. The doctor I saw was terrible and basically discounted all of my symptoms and history, ordered me some blood tests that I could take whenever (aka he felt there was no urgency) and sent me for a chest x-ray. I could go into how terrible he was and how I'm not going to use One Medical ever again, but that's a story for another time. I got home and I couldn't even lie down the pain was so unbearable. So I trusted my gut and I went to the hospital. Long story short, the doctor was like, "You have a ton of clots all over both of your lungs and you have bits of your left lung that are dying. You're going to be on blood thinners for the rest of your life. Have a nice day!"
I had to spend the night in the hospital, which was a little bit scary. The hospital was pretty nice, but I was next to a meth addict and his visitor until I could get a room, and then they brought this old black man in who was shrieking bloody murder, so that was disorienting, but eventually I got my own room. I wanted to cry when they first told me. It was really fucking hard to hear. I'm not afraid of death. I made my peace with God the first time this happened and if I die tomorrow, I'll be okay with that. Life has been pretty fucking sweet ::cue Drake's 'Started From the Bottom':: and while there are a few things I'd like to do before I die (reach self-actualization, fall in love, etc), I'm okay if I don't get to do them. This is life - nothing is guaranteed. However, I'm pretty fucking scared of dying. The actual physical act. Will it be painful? Will it be sudden? Will I suffer? I also don't want to live the life of an invalid. I had big fucking plans for this year - YEAR OF FUN - and it just seemed like that was all going to go down the drain. It upset me, but I was able to hold it together. I mean, I didn't want to become a spectacle in an environment where there was already a lot of crazy shit going down.
The next day, my amazing doctor friend, L, came to visit and was there while the doctors discharged me. She took a look at my CT Scan results and made a face like SHIT THIS IS SERIOUS. Which was good because I don't like to take anything seriously, and now I know that I have to. I had lunch with her and Vest, and then headed home to self-imposed exile for a bit. I'm feeling much better now. I took two weeks off of work to recuperate. I don't have any pain, really. Sometimes I get short of breath and my fatigue is out of this world, but in general, I feel okay from a physical standpoint. Emotionally, well... that's a story for another entry.
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