I am in what feels like a very long and drawn-out process of finding out what the hell is wrong with me, and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. In January I had my first doctors appointment with my new healthcare provider. During this appointment the nurse noticed my blood pressure was high, like really high. After convincing himself that it was the machine he took my blood pressure four more times…definitely not the machine, although he wasn’t completely convinced. The doctor told me to do a five day blood pressure check by the end of February and then make a follow up appointment. Check, done; however, at my most recent appointment the doctor wants me to wait three more weeks because he took me off my antidepressant and wants to wait until it’s out of my system before running tests. I’ve also seemed to develop an allergy to something. The only idea any of us have at the moment is the Zoloft, because it’s the newest medication. Waking up to hives and thinking they’re flea bites is not a great way to start a weekend (speaking from experience here). Good news, my house isn’t infested with fleas so there’s that, bad news I was so itchy. I am now on two more medications to keep that in check. Seriously all of the medications are starting to add up. My bathroom counter is covered in pill bottles….and several other things like makeup, jewelry, and knick-nacks I’m to lazy to put away.
I’m becomingly increasingly annoyed, because I don’t feel like something is wrong and it could be, like possibly worst case scenario wrong (but I’m going to ignore that fact so I don’t freak myself out more than I already have). But then again it could just be the antidepressants or genetics. My brother got all the good genes. It’s not even a little bit fair. He’s in top physical shape, never gets sick, and is pretty darn good looking. At least he’s got a crooked nose after being hit in the face with a baseball. My nose is cute, so HA! (Totally doesn’t make up for all the bad genes I got, though)
I know that this stuff takes time, and it can’t be rushed, but, damn it, I’d really like this figured out. My patience is completely worn out. FIX ME, DOCTOR! Preferably before I convince myself I’m dying, thank you WebMD, and start planning my own funeral. [Okay, not funny, but it kind of is, at least I think so]