Never Should’ve Got Out Of Bed

Song: N/A

Mood: 5

Nightmares: 0

Ghosts: Few

Lacking any other way to put it, today has not been good.

I often joke about how my health seems to be a zero-sum game. Last week, I got a call from the liver specialist and she was happy to report that my liver numbers have all gone back into the normal range (all except for one but it’s just slightly off and they’re not worried about it). Adding coffee to my daily routine was the only change I’d made, but the difference it seems to have made is fantastic. Easy, cheap, a little disgusting, but it got results. So that was great.

But like I said, my health seems to be a zero-sum game.

I had an appointment with my GP (Dr H) this morning for a pre-surgery physical. I went to bed early, got up early, but just as we were on the way out the door, one of the garbage bags we were taking outside tore and dumped garbage on the inside landing. So yeah, that was an omen.

Got to my appointment on time, got into the room, and was met by a medical student. He was pretty good, no problems there. I mentioned some concerns I’ve been having with the upcoming surgery, he took notes. Then he left and came back with Dr H. I explained my concerns, she had me hop up on the table… and the two of them did some prodding and poking. What they found was not great and will probably change the approach to my next surgery quite a bit. I also have to start taking my temperature regularly and be ready to zip over to the emergency room in the event I have a fever.

That was pretty upsetting, since I’ve been trying extremely hard to do everything the doctors have been telling me. But then came the little toothpick flag on the shit sandwich my day was rapidly becoming:

Dr H is leaving. She’s not moving to another practice or anything like that, so I can’t follow her around town. I think she’s going to be spending more time teaching at the university. Which is really good for her, but sucks very, very badly for me. When I first met Dr H, I was barely able to utter a whole sentence, and I would sit there, staring at the floor and shaking while she patiently tried to pry what it was I was trying to say out of me. She’s been very patient and helpful with my various physical and mental health issues, and she has truly been one of the pillars of my recovery.

She said she had two doctors in mind who she thought would be a good fit, and she was going to sit down and talk to them about me before she handed me over to whomever ends up being my next GP. She assured me I wasn’t going to be without a doctor, and she assured me I’d always have a doctor at the clinic I visit. She said I was one of her favourite patients (which I’m sure she’s saying to a bunch of people) and said she wanted me to hear it from her instead of being surprised by a letter (which I’ll be getting sometime soon).

I didn’t know what to say. I thanked her profusely, wished her luck, and when the two of them left and I was sitting in the office by myself, I had a good cry before texting J and letting her know I was on my way back out. Then I cried in the car on the way home, then went back to bed and cried for a while before I could feel things starting to spiral into panic so I took some PRNs and did my exercises as best as I could before falling asleep while clinging to J like a drowning man holding onto a log in the middle of a river.

J woke me up a couple of hours later. Dr H was on the phone, she contacted the surgeon I was getting the paperwork done for today and somehow got me an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow afternoon. So once again she proved how great a doctor she is and how hard it’s going to be for another doctor to have the understanding and do all the footwork she does.

This is really hard. Today is not a good day.

Stay safe.

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