Every Breath You Take

You don't realize how often you breathe until it becomes difficult to do so. Every breath in or out either caused me pain or a coughing fit....and going outside and breathing in cold air? That was the worst.

After my release from the hospital, I came home and was put on lockdown by Warden Jason. After not being able to sleep much in the hospital, I was looking forward to being in my own bed with no nurses waking me up to see if I was ok. I guess I should have told my family that. The door to my bedroom was constantly being opened by my new set of nurses checking on me. At least they weren't drawing blood....there were still needles involved though.

Because I was discharged before my medicine level was at a "therapeutic level," I had to give myself injections in my stomach twice a day. Let me tell you how happy that made me. My stomach is now a sea of bruises from the needles. Thank god I'm not a swim suit model.

The first full day home was a marathon of making phone calls for all the doctor visits the Hospital said I had to schedule. My dance card was definitely full. I must say, Valentine's Day 2011 will go down in Bailey History as being memorable...though not for the right reasons.

Wednesday rolls around, and I go to see my Primary Care doctor. I go through the whole story about the past few days, and we go over what the course of action is. The course of action seems to be more blood getting sucked out of me and even more doctor's visits. Awesome! My discharge papers list everything I am diagnosed with...and one of the items on the lengthy list was "breast tumor." Um....pardon?

It seems when they did the Cat Scan on my lungs, the scan also picked up on the numerous fibroids in my chest. I tried to explain to the doctors that yes, I knew they were there, yes, they were biopsied, yes my mammogram in fall was clear. I felt like Charlie Brown's teacher. The more I talked, the more they only heard, " Whaaa whaa, whaa whaa whaa whaa." The report they sent my primary care doc evidently had even scarier verbiage than "breast tumor," so my doctor wanted me to go for a mammogram just to rule out cancer causing the clots.

This did not make me all warm and fuzzy. The rest of the appointment was a blur of more bloodwork appointments to be made, what I could and couldn't do, what medicine I could and couldn't take. I was now certain that it wouldn't be the clots that killed me, it would be breast cancer. Little Mary Sunshine, I am not.

I get home, and I am laying around waiting to die when the phone rings. It's my doctor, who has just been sent some more of the paperwork from the hospital. She gives me the good news that when they did the sonogram of my heart in the hospital, they found pulmonary hypertension and a swollen left ventricle. Now mind you, the doctors in the hospital did not find it necessary to share that little nugget of information with me. So, she says I need to make an appointment with a Cardiologist.

WTF?!?!

I mean, really. What in the world could be thrown at me next? I swear, the only diagnosis that they didn't give me was pregnancy, and as God is my witness, if they had said I was pregnant with twins, I wouldn't have been surprised. That's how nuts my week had been.

So, I hang up the phone, and I sit in a daze for a minute. As I try to process all this information, I try to tell myself that the doctors are being thorough, they want to find out exactly what caused the clots....but then, all I can think is more doctors, more blood drawn, more tests....ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH! I really need to work on being more patient. It's on my bucket list...towards the bottom.

When I call the Cardiologust Office, the receptionist asks what kind of appointment I want. I tell her I don't know, and I start telling her the story of the past week. There's a brief pause, and she puts me on hold. A nurse comes on the line to ask me what's going on. I tell her the story, and she makes the appintment. I have a feeling there's going to be some sticky note on my file saying, "nutjob" -- or whatever the medical term is.

Now, my mammogram appointment the following day was much better. I get put in my little cube to change in the ever so glamorous hospital gown, and I sit and wait for the Tech to come back and get me. When she finally comes back, she has a Doctor with her. I looked at the two of them, and my first thought was, "Holy crap. This must be really bad if the Doctor is coming to talk to me before I even get the mammogram done." The Doctor proceeds to tell me that he believes what the Cat Scan showed were the fibroids we already knew about. He said he really was leaning against having me subjected to an unneeded mammogram, but he couldn't be truly certain as he had not seen the Cat Scans. Well, this perked me up considerably. I proclaimed (almost to the point of yelling) that I had the Cat Scan films in my car, and I would send my husband out to fetch them.

So, after the Doctor looked over the films, he said nothing had changed, and I didn't need to get squished (I may be paraphrasing the last part a smidge). I just about danced out of the waiting room. One thing to check off my list...cancer was not going to kill me today.

The next day, I had bloodwork to see if I was finally at a therapeutic level of my meds. I did not have high hopes, so I was Snoopy Dancing to find out I was at the right level, and I could quit shooting myself up in the stomach. Oh, happy happy day! Then I found out that they were upping the amount of blood thinner I was on. My mind raced....shots in my stomach or not being able to shave my legs for 3-6 months*....which was less appealing? OK, I can handle the upped dosage. Thank god I'm blonde...and it's winter.

This week brings yet another follow up with my Primary Care Doc, the Cardiologist appointment, and an appointment with my GYN. The original thought was it was the hormones I was taking to regulate my cycle that caused the clots...and that first diagnosis may, in fact, be the final diagnosis...after we rule out every.other.fricking.thing.imaginable. So, I need to visit with the Doctor that gave me the pills that almost killed me. That should be a rip-roaring fun appointment.

Thank you all for the prayers, good thoughts, food, and support. I have more stories to tell about this whole ordeal, and since I am still on virtual house arrest, I will have plenty of time to tell them all. Hold your applause until the end, please. :-)