53 Weeks a Year

So we turn up at the sweet GP’s office, and… um… my appointment was apparently set for next Thursday. So either Mr. Shoe scheduled it last Friday and the office chick didn’t realize she was already working off next week’s schedule, so she just said “next Thursday” or Mr. Shoe missed the “May 20th” qualifier.

Either way, I’m seeing the sweet GP Monday. I mean, I’m sure the chick who was there last night was also wondering why the hell I couldn’t wait a week… But let’s put it this way: Sweet GP asked if I wanted to see one of the other doctors today, since she’s not in Fridays. She was afraid it might be a kidney infection, and I’m sure it isn’t. Okay, she is too. I mean, if it were, it would’ve been obvious on the last abnormal test, because little has changed.

She also asked if the neurologist’s office made an appointment yet. Nope. She said it was weird, cause she saw a note that he put in the system to his office staff to call me and schedule me in. No, not weird. Does his office staff check? Do they know to? Did he have a sudden attack of laryngitis that rendered him unable to speak to the staff? He could type in the request, so he could dial the phone… So it might be the case. I mean… his office-within-his-practice is right across the hall from the open scheduling area. It must be laryngitis.

Okay, I’m sorry. I love technology. But sometimes it’s more efficient to do it all analog, you know?

If I don’t hear by Monday morning, I’ll call them.

I wanted to see the sweet GP because I wanted to fill her in on the details of the face stuff — it has happened before, I felt it this time, and because she knows me, she’d have sent me to the ER anyway, because she’d have noticed it. I told her that the Dorktor spotted it my second or third visit with him as something new, and then saw it resolve in the coming month or two. I mean, that’s not to say I’m not crooked to start with. I am. But it is a change. It’s not the dramatic look the ER expected — it’s dramatic enough that my sweet GP would do due diligence and send me. I mostly wanted to know if there was anything I should do to protect my eye… It does close, I think, for the night, enough to protect it. But it goes from dry to feeling like it’s going to forcibly shoot eye boogers out if I touch my cheek. Sorry for the image. No, I’m not. I could be a lot more disgusting, actually.

But it is the whole, um, water treatment issue that is making me more uneasy. Let’s put it like this: I just was mainly concerned about my eye when I called to talk to her about the facial droop, and the fact that I realized my sweet GP wasn’t aware that that had happened before. I wanted it to be duly noted, and to take any precautions that might be necessary. But I’ve spent a while wondering if I just reacted very variably to desmopressin, or if there was a problem elsewhere. I started seriously wondering when both sides of my back/flank region hurt (so I couldn’t blame the surgery) and the full feeling that I get in the front and sides also became bilateral. I’d felt the fullness before, but it was intermittent, though kinda clustered. It happens more often now (not constant, though it is pretty much daily), but even a year or more ago I would notice it.

I know for sure I respond to desmopressin, so my pituitary has messed something up. I know that the anti-diuretic hormone kicked back in after the surgery, and then pooped out again. I don’t know if the low blood sodium was purely due to over production of ADH, or a combination of ADH and pissed off kidneys. I know my kidneys have working ADH receptors, though. ¬†I also know I’m taking a desmopressin at night, and still getting up three times or so needing to go… And it’s not little fairy princess tinkling, or even My Little Pony Princess tinkling, it’s more like Secretariat after a long drink out of the Stanley Cup.

Fine, whatever. I know. Horses suck on ice.

Still, it’s better than it would be without it, because… well, it’s all variable. I figured it like this: until we sort out what’s going on, I think I’m fine taking the desmopressin at night. I think it’s necessary, because I’m tired enough as it is. And you don’t drink lots at night, and I sweat like… not like a princess, anyway. I have actually been dehydrated enough to get tunnel vision on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and desmopressin keeps that at bay.

It’s easier to quickly put dehydration right than low blood sodium. And mild dehydration is unpleasant, and you react to it. Mildly low blood sodium you don’t… Until it dips dangerously. I unfortunately have a complicating factor that I don’t get thirsty. I will get tunnel vision, I will not be able see, or stand up straight — but I will not feel thirsty. It’s just damned weird. It does complicate taking desmopressin though.

My sweet GP asked if I wanted to see Frank the Bunny the Endocrinologist. Nah, cause she’ll tell me what I know…. And I think I love endocrinologists because they’re almost like really good psychiatrists this way, they all ask, “What do you think will work?” I mean… especially with diabetes insipidus. Trust me, I know how I feel before it shows in my blood tests. I might fix an issue before it shows, even, without knowing (which is what threw everyone last year… my electrolytes were off, so I put them right before I realized this whole thing was not just a transient problem… in less than two days.) My kidneys are reading the desmopressin that I take just fine, but it doesn’t seem like they are operating as they should. My brain is not making any vasopressin, so I tend to pee a lot, and I get dried out, breaking skin and tight red swelly hands, feet, ankles and wrists. But if my kidneys are not filtering stuff right, ADH be damned, I might end up retaining more than I want to and just feeling yuckier than I have to.

I think there is something up, though, and if there is, I want to head it off at the pass. I am getting the distinct impression it’s more likely to damage things quickly if I took the desmopressin during the day and didn’t drink enough due to no thirst response, even though it’s annoying to constantly be in the latrine. I feel at least a little more secure in drinking that extra glass of water here and there, because it really lets me know that I need to in other ways.¬†Diabetes insipidus isn’t life threatening at all if you have access to water, it’s just a pain in the ass. Treating the neurological type with medication is easy, if you have a thirst mechanism that isn’t completely anemic. So in I go on Monday, because we’re pretty sure all round it isn’t a kidney infection. It could be… but if it is, really, another two days won’t do a whole lot either way.

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