(no subject)
Apr. 30th, 2004 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzillaI'm in 'a mood'. I'm going to cut tag this... I really don't know where my thoughts are going but I'm more than a little bit irritated.
Once a month, I see the rheumatoid specialist in Annapolis; he's one of only two physicians in the area with positive results in dealing with FMS. The other charges nearly six times as much; my thoughts on making a needed service so damned expensive are thoroughly black and bordering on psychotic.
Anyway, two months ago, one of the doctors that work under Dr Lichtenstein wanted bloodwork done. Since I'd eaten already that morning (a fluke - normally I just get dressed and go), it got slotted for the following month. So last month, the RN stuck a spike in my arm and pulled six tubes of blood.
Let me tell you, the drive back home was fucking interesting.
About a week and a half ago, I got a letter from the Doc's office; a problem had shown up in my bloodwork, and a check back over the last several reports confirmed it. Exactly WHAT the problem was was a mystery. While I'm a voracious reader, I can /not/ make out the mangled subdialect that doctors go through six or eight years of college to learn.
So going into the appointment today, I was concerned. It's been a rough year so far, with my frustrations mounting over the increasingly more stubborn haze I have to burn through every morning in order to get 'functional'. Once I hit full operating mode, I have to be careful; I can't sit down, I can't slow down, and I can't eat. Any of those three and I just fold up and collapse, and have to fight through the haze again. It's driving me completely nucking futs.
Yes, that's intentional.
Anyway, today the rotation put me into the primary doc's office. My question about the bloodwork was answered. It seems that, surprise surprise, my thyroid's shutting down. Joy. Rapture. Fucking wonderful. I've already had two spats with Megan today over this; she keeps trying to crack jokes at me about it. She's trying to get me to smile, but I simply don't see anything funny about this. Not at all.
Like I didn't have enough stacked against me already. It's not super serious, it's not devastating, and I shouldn't be so damned pissed off about it, but I am. (Given my testosterone levels, it's a wonder I can manged peeved, much less pissed off.) It's not helping that the Synthroid that's been prescribed has a 'miscellaneous interaction' with amitriptyline, and a serum level scramble with heroin/methadone... What? No, I'm not on them, but the fentanyl I'm on has been described as 'synthetic heroin'. So there I have NO clue what it'll do.
What's worrying is the possible effects of mixing synthroid and amitriptyline...
Toxic effects may include increased risk of cardiac arrhythmias and CNS stimulation; onset of action of tricyclics may be accellerated.
...
Okay, the faster onset of the amitriptyline just means I go to sleep faster at night. That's not the worrying part. What's got me worried is the CNS stimulation; the FMS is a CNS disorder, and further stimulation may well send my already high pain levels through the roof.
*sigh*
And in the end, I'm just bitching. There's not a damned thing I can do about it, and I may simply be worried over nothing. Maybe all I really needed was to rant a bit - I have no clue. I just know I'm pissed off about another 'defect' surfacing. Some folks seem to think that every doctor visit has to turn up some new malady; I think there's some serious mental issues present in folks that need a 'diagnosis' for every twitch and tickle. To my knowledge, I'm not one of those folks... though I'm sure someone will whack me in the head with a clue-by-four if I'm mistaken in that.
I just wanted to get the scripts for the patches and get my weight (334 - down ten pounds from last month) and blood pressure (120/80... I'm the healthiest crippled obese chain smoker you'll ever meet... or something) checked and go home and go back to bed. Bleah.
In the 'So People Know' column - I leave for another glorious weekend in central New Jersey in a couple hours. As is usual, we'll be back sometime Sunday afternoon/evening, and if I'm not too wiped from the drive I'll be around. Hopefully by then I'll be a bit less pissy.
*hugs*
Once a month, I see the rheumatoid specialist in Annapolis; he's one of only two physicians in the area with positive results in dealing with FMS. The other charges nearly six times as much; my thoughts on making a needed service so damned expensive are thoroughly black and bordering on psychotic.
Anyway, two months ago, one of the doctors that work under Dr Lichtenstein wanted bloodwork done. Since I'd eaten already that morning (a fluke - normally I just get dressed and go), it got slotted for the following month. So last month, the RN stuck a spike in my arm and pulled six tubes of blood.
Let me tell you, the drive back home was fucking interesting.
About a week and a half ago, I got a letter from the Doc's office; a problem had shown up in my bloodwork, and a check back over the last several reports confirmed it. Exactly WHAT the problem was was a mystery. While I'm a voracious reader, I can /not/ make out the mangled subdialect that doctors go through six or eight years of college to learn.
So going into the appointment today, I was concerned. It's been a rough year so far, with my frustrations mounting over the increasingly more stubborn haze I have to burn through every morning in order to get 'functional'. Once I hit full operating mode, I have to be careful; I can't sit down, I can't slow down, and I can't eat. Any of those three and I just fold up and collapse, and have to fight through the haze again. It's driving me completely nucking futs.
Yes, that's intentional.
Anyway, today the rotation put me into the primary doc's office. My question about the bloodwork was answered. It seems that, surprise surprise, my thyroid's shutting down. Joy. Rapture. Fucking wonderful. I've already had two spats with Megan today over this; she keeps trying to crack jokes at me about it. She's trying to get me to smile, but I simply don't see anything funny about this. Not at all.
Like I didn't have enough stacked against me already. It's not super serious, it's not devastating, and I shouldn't be so damned pissed off about it, but I am. (Given my testosterone levels, it's a wonder I can manged peeved, much less pissed off.) It's not helping that the Synthroid that's been prescribed has a 'miscellaneous interaction' with amitriptyline, and a serum level scramble with heroin/methadone... What? No, I'm not on them, but the fentanyl I'm on has been described as 'synthetic heroin'. So there I have NO clue what it'll do.
What's worrying is the possible effects of mixing synthroid and amitriptyline...
Toxic effects may include increased risk of cardiac arrhythmias and CNS stimulation; onset of action of tricyclics may be accellerated.
...
Okay, the faster onset of the amitriptyline just means I go to sleep faster at night. That's not the worrying part. What's got me worried is the CNS stimulation; the FMS is a CNS disorder, and further stimulation may well send my already high pain levels through the roof.
*sigh*
And in the end, I'm just bitching. There's not a damned thing I can do about it, and I may simply be worried over nothing. Maybe all I really needed was to rant a bit - I have no clue. I just know I'm pissed off about another 'defect' surfacing. Some folks seem to think that every doctor visit has to turn up some new malady; I think there's some serious mental issues present in folks that need a 'diagnosis' for every twitch and tickle. To my knowledge, I'm not one of those folks... though I'm sure someone will whack me in the head with a clue-by-four if I'm mistaken in that.
I just wanted to get the scripts for the patches and get my weight (334 - down ten pounds from last month) and blood pressure (120/80... I'm the healthiest crippled obese chain smoker you'll ever meet... or something) checked and go home and go back to bed. Bleah.
In the 'So People Know' column - I leave for another glorious weekend in central New Jersey in a couple hours. As is usual, we'll be back sometime Sunday afternoon/evening, and if I'm not too wiped from the drive I'll be around. Hopefully by then I'll be a bit less pissy.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-01 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-01 01:03 pm (UTC)Travel safely.