I am not a hypochondriac. But I was scared.
I hate knowing that something is wrong with me and not knowing what it is. Which, yeah, that’s why we have doctors.
For the last three weeks, I had been getting progressively worse. Exhaustion. Aches. Confusion. Bumps in my nails, which were turning blue. Shaky. Lots of stuff that wasn’t sitting right with me. Oh yeah, and diarrhea. What, TMI? Oops, sorry.
I knew I was getting sicker by the day.
Now, I’m not really one to go running to the doctor. I have to be on the brink of death for me to make that call.
I was sure that, this time, I was more than on the brink. I was a hairs width. OK, I have a tendency toward the dramatics. But seriously, I’m not kidding. I thought I was dying. No, really. I did. I’m pretty sure I was.
Now, let’s back up a bit.
I have a thyroid condition that, as per my endocrinologist, is about to explode in either the hypo or hyper direction. So yeah, we are keeping an eye on that. I’m hoping for hyper though because it makes you skinny.
I am on Zoloft, since July, which, three weeks ago the dosage was raised from 50 mg. to 100 mg.
I figured it was one or the other that was going to be the momentary death of me.
I freaked out.
Which, is what I do when it comes to health issues. Not because of anything other than…
If I die, who is going to finish raising my kids? Yeah, that is my BIGGEST concern. Also, I know what it’s like to be a motherless child, I’ve been one since August 1. I don’t want my kids to go through that yet. And GOD FORBID my ex-husband ends up raising my two oldest. They’d be screwed. No offense, in case you are reading!!
So yeah, I freak when it comes to not feeling well. Because, like I said, I tend toward the dramatics and anything health related brings out my inner drama queen, tiara and all.
I did what any rational crazy person would do. I went to the doctors on Tuesday. Because I couldn’t run the risk of being sick for Duran Duran on Wednesday and Saturday. Which, yes, you’ll get another D2 post out of me next week. You’re welcome.
I cried to my doc. I told her that I was dying and she had to save me because I couldn’t miss the Duran Duran concert. Priorities people. She gave me a look of compassion but I’m pretty sure I saw her think about rolling her eyes. In fact, I’m 100% sure that she did. But she did say…no matter what, don’t miss the concert. Seriously, even if I was really dying, I should go on to Cleveland and Windsor to see them. AND THEN I could die.
I went through my copious list of complaints. She typed in her little laptop thingy, because my doctors office does everything electronic now when it comes to our patient files. I’m thinking she was typing “crazy lady” 100 times like I used to have to do when I talked to much in class. Well, I didn’t have to write crazy lady, I had to write “I will not talk in class”. But, she nodded patiently and waited for me to finish with my said copious list of complaints.
Then, she did some doctor stuff. Like feel my neck and check my shaky hands and push on my stomach to see if she could get me to fart. Well, maybe that’s not why but she really was pushing hard in the right places. I can’t remember what else because I was in a temporary state of insanity. Yes, TEMPORARY.
She let me know that it could be one of two things. I could be dying from Zoloft overdose or something like that. Or, I could be dying from my thyroid. Well, she didn’t come out and actually say DYING. But, I heard it in her tone. Well…I think I did. But, considering the mental state I was in, it could just be conjecture and imagination. Whatev though.
Blood was taken. Luckily, I don’t remember that because me no likey.
Zoloft dosage was lowered in 1/2, as I said earlier in my post. Which, you would have already known if you were paying complete attention and hanging on to every single word I’ve written here. 587, thus far.
She said that if it was, indeed, a reaction to the higher dose of Zoloft, I’d start feeling better really quickly once the lower dose was dosed.
And, I did. I felt better!
Which meant, I could go to Duran Duran in Cleveland. Which…yeah. I did.
It was fun. I got drunk. It’s my pleasure sharing that with you.
Long story short…
I’m not dying.