For anyone that’s been following me for a while you may know I’ve been on a weird roller coaster concerning my health. I have recently been diagnosed with high blood pressure…although all my blood work came back saying that I shouldn’t have high blood pressure, and my kidneys are a-okay. I’ve also developed chronic hives, including the random swelling of body parts. YAY! [Turns out I’m not allergic to anything. Body, what the hell are you doing. Get your shit together]
At this point I just laugh about it, because what else can I do? It’s become my normal, and I deal with it. But as I found out in May while visiting family for our second ceremony, it kind of freaks other people out. The first night there my feet and ankles swelled up so much that the skin was so tight it was tender to touch. HB’s mom did not find it as humorous as I did. Fast forward to the day after our wedding and my hand had swollen so much I couldn’t wear my rings. As I’m getting ready HB walks over to his grandparent’s apartment to talk with his parent, grandparents, and aunt. After a little while he comes back with a blood pressure monitor and the news that I’m going to the Emergency Room. Ummm, come again? I don’t remember signing up for an ER visit, so no I won’t be going. Thank you, very much.
I have a difficult time dealing with not having a choice. Even if what’s chosen for me might be the smarter thing to choose if I didn’t get to decide I will not be a happy camper. Basically I might have pitched a small hissy fit, but I ended up going anyway.
While there I was stuck three times with a needle because people suck at drawing my blood thank to small, rolling veins. I almost passed out, because my blood pressure droped so rapidly. And they came to the conclusion that they couldn’t really do anything for me, but that whatever is wrong with me wasn’t serious. Thanks, Doc, I could have told you that since my US doctor has become my unofficial and unwanted best buddy.
After spending several hours waiting around for my blood work to come back saying that I should be fine (even though something is definitely wrong) I got to meet the actual doctor who kept calling me Ukrainian. Honestly that was probably the only thing that made the whole trip worth it, or at least not as horrible as it could have been. (I do not enjoy ER visits no matter where I am)
I have absolutely no idea where she got the idea that I was Ukrainian, but she definitely ran with it. Even when my mother-in-law told her I was from the US. Do you know how hard it is to stifle a very persistent giggle? I do not look Ukrainian. Like at all. If anything I look more like a troll, or maybe a hobbit minus the hairy feet. But I will take the compliment. Most of the Ukrainian women I’ve seen have been rather pretty.
But the cherry on top of the whole experience came several weeks after we came home: the bill. What sick freak thinks of a medical bill in such a positive light? An American that’s who. The total for my impromptu ER visit was 125€ total. WHAT?! That’s amazing. If I would have gone to the ER in the US it would have cost me thousands. I was genuinely so worried about how much it was going to cost, which was one the biggest reasons I didn’t want to go. Thankfully it turned out not to be an issue. Thank you, Germany, for not killing my wallet.