Doing the Right Thing Is Dumb

Heh, no, it isn’t. But I called my sweet GP and left a message. I told the reception staff I didn’t want to make an appointment. Of course, when sweet GP called, she said, “I think you should go to the ER just to rule out a stroke. Or you could come in, but I’d probably just send you to the ER…” [in an ambulance, thereby adding to the drama… no. No thanks.]

Three out of four medical professionals can’t agree on what any sort of facial palsy/nerve malfunction acts like. So at one point, there was a doctor arguing for admission, because I wasn’t tripping over my lip, and the feeling of swelling (and it feels swelled) comes and goes. I have a droop that is more significant than the usual droop. It isn’t all out… well, jeez, you wouldn’t mistake it for a stroke,  nobody would, but you have to do due diligence and make sure it wasn’t with a CT. I didn’t think I was going to have jack explained by the ER staff, and I really doubt that I keep having transient ischemic attacks that just screw with my face. So I really was not okay with staying there for an MRI and MRA. I will probably end up with an MRI at least again. But I don’t need to be there.

I am in agreement (and I think he knew) with the physician’s assistant. He was thinking it might be more of a trigeminal nerve thing as opposed to a cranial/facial nerve, though when he squashed my trigeminal nerve it did something, it wasn’t the screaming pain he would expect. It wasn’t pain at all, actually. And yeah, they try to inflict pain. That’d be the part I’d like if it were my job.  It obviously is causing some drooping, though, so maybe there’s some other factor.

Also, I don’t have any variety of herpes, EBV, or staph. Or Lyme. Christ almighty, I don’t have Lyme. Again. Can we stop with the damn Lyme tests now? Please?

Blood counts normal enough, I guess, that I wasn’t going to spontaneously erupt in a fountain of purple goo, and my blood pressure was erratic. Yeah, well… It was actually a lot less erratic there last night than it usually is. No kidding. It was high, and also because they kept telling me they might need the neurosurgeon they wouldn’t let me have anything to drink even though I was more than due for a desmopressin. Dehydration doesn’t help blood pressure go down much. So my veins were hard to find, and the IV port killed even after it was in, and my fingers were unable to bend. I asked for a drink a few times, and the last time they said they were checking on my need for a neurosurgeon I told them that if I did, it’d be pretty damn certain that the water would be coming right back up, so don’t worry about it.

My oxygen saturation also magically drops into the 80s. When I laugh or talk and move at the same time.

But the PA knew the chances of my agreeing to stay were slim, so I was told to call the neurologist today. I guess I tell him my face is saggy, my nose and eye drool, and the numbness changes to a feeling of projectile eye/ear boogers when the PA presses my trigeminal nerve?

The kicker is I know why they wanted to keep me — same reason my sweet GP wasn’t hedging her bets. It doesn’t look like it’s going to kill me, but it’s now obvious that I’m not someone who falls apart in a predictable manner, and there are signs that are worrying enough. And no one wants to be responsible for bad things happening, but it’s really hard for someone to step up, coordinate, and make sense of it all either.

I figured I’d at least get some prednisone out of the deal — maybe it’d be a silver lining (and the immunologist even blessed that.) TIA Boy, MD killed that idea. I am sure it’d help the nerve, and I know it’d make me feel better. I might have actually been able to stop the downward slide of weight again. I’m three pounds away from hitting that “you look like you were released from a prisoner of war camp” look. It’s a fine line (those Portuguese genetics — I hide extra weight well, but when it comes off too much, a quarter pound is the difference between “thin” and “holy crap feed that girl”).

So what did I get for last night? A few bad IV punctures and some medical tape residue. Should’ve swiped some of those cleansing pads out of the latrine to get the residue off… My insurance is paying through the nose for it. (Did I just sound like my dad? Does Maine Med know where all the toothbrushes on the cardiac ward went last spring?)

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