My doctor? I could kiss the man. No, really.
I've written before about the continuing saga of the health issues that I've been having; and you know, they just continue. I just got tired of talking about them, especially when everyone would pointedly ask "how are you?" as if I was dying.
I'm so not dying. So don't act like it. I'm sure as hell not.
Anyway...this week has been really rough so I dragged myself into the doc again and this time, he gave me drugs.
DRUGS! The clouds parted, the angels sang hallelujah, and I gazed in awe at the prescription in my hand.
For the past two years I've seen specialists, had an MRI, CT scans (one with radioactive dye, one without), nerve function testing, tried every over the counter pain medication and practically begged for something, anything that would relieve this horrible pain. I thought that maybe I was just being a baby. He assured me that no, I'm not, and that I probably should have something to take the edge off of it so that I can, you know, function.
Just all that stuff like sleeping, working, cooking, doing the laundry, vacuuming, and blogging.
Oh, don't get me wrong, the pain is still there. It's just not as acute when tempered with medication-the good stuff, not the over the counter stuff that the pain just laughed at and danced around. Maybe I'll actually stop falling asleep on the couch at 7 pm because I'm so tired, even though I'm sleeping 11 hours at a time.
Anyway, now I get to go and give them a pile of blood to play with (after fasting-I hate fasting), and see a rhematologist-who actually sounds a lot less scary then a neurologist, actually. Especially when my doc says that the guy has been around a million years but is really, really good.
All is well-in fact, it's not nearly as scary as I first thought a year ago.
Maybe I should just bake him some cookies instead.