So yesterday MPS and I left in the middle of the night – slight exaggeration – to go to the city to see the Grand Poobah of cardiologists – true story – that I have been waiting to see since before I was born – probably.
Of course it was pissing down with rain, there was roadworks and we were stuck in peak hour traffic and behind a tram, but we made it with like 10 minutes to spare and I didn’t have a fucking heart attack, which in hindsight would have probably been the best place to have one if I did.
Anywhoodle. We got there and I was immediately strapped into an ECG and then whisked in to see my new best friend. I mean OMG I luff her. For serious. You know how most specialists are a bit standoff-ish and meh? She was lovely and warm and just HUMAN.
I like a bit of human in a person that you are pouring your fucking life story into, ya know?
After 2 hours of talking and laying and standing and blood pressuring I have a list of shit to do and some words to google the ever loving shit out of.
And in the notes she has written things like ‘nasty ailments’ relating to all my other crazy arsed stuff and ‘unhappy autonomic system’ and that shit right there just makes me smile.
Human doctor. Who would have thought.
I have to enrol in a pain clinic and with an exercise physiologist. She has given me some books to read and one for MPS too… heh heh heh… and I have some shit to do in the meantime like ‘drink more water’ and ‘gradually increase time with feet on the floor’.
Sure, after we left I thought of a million things I should have told her that probably would have been important, but I am not going to DIE from this so for now I am just happy that I have a name for this beast and a plan.
And that, my friends, is half the battle.