A lot of friends have asked, and I’m so not sure I’m ready to talk about it, my results from my appointment at the Cancer Center. While it isn’t cancer (at least in my lungs), I had some incredible things happen.
I hadn’t been feeling great. Wasn’t sure if it was stress (I mean… the end of the semester can change a human into a monster. I am not innocent), or if I had the crud that was traveling swiftly from person to person. All I knew was that my chest really hurt and my heart was beating out of my chest on the regular. I’d been really tired and feeling overall weird. Like something was way off.
When I arrived at my checkup, one of the first things they did was take my blood pressure. Now, I exercise almost every single day. I work hard at the gym and at home. I weight-lift, cardio, yoga…. you name it, I practice it. Normally my blood pressure is 100/60. I’ve had it taken so frequently in the last two years that I can say with absolute certainty, my baseline BP is normally low. At my appointment, it started at 168/102. Clearly not just stress-induced, something was wrong. My blood pressure was taken several more times, only to find it hover right around 168/102. My temp was normal and I was just feeling weird, but not sick.
After speaking with my provider, she and I decided I might have a blood clot in my lungs, causing my reduction in lung capacity and also the overall spacey feeling I had. She got me into CT within the hour. I had a damn needle the size of the Statue of Liberty rammed into my hand for the contrast dye, and swiftly had my CT taken. Fast forward to the next day, when my provider calls me and gives me her direct line in the voicemail to please call her back to talk about my results.
Let me tell you something. When you’ve had cancer and you have something happened during an appointment that changes the course of the day and the appointment and then your provider leaves you a message to call her directly, you assume things aren’t great.
I obviously called her back immediately and she began to explain what she saw in my CT scan. No blood clot, no cancer, but I have emphysema. Emphysema. And, a fatty liver. She further explained that my liver function tests were superb so that it likely was not a connection between alcohol and a fatty liver. First off, I was really pissed that she was calling me fat in any capacity. Secondly, what the heck. As she and I were talking some things started to become familiar to me in our conversation. I hadn’t quite put it together. So, I called my mom.
Now, there’s something about speaking medically to someone that understands and has input. It makes me very happy.
As I was explaining and thinking out loud, I recalled bits and pieces of my childhood that spoke of a particular auto-immune disease that my dad has. My mom and I came to the same conclusion. Clearly I have the same thing Dwight has.
Well, my doctor made a few changes to my regime. Stop taking my Tamoxifen (anti-cancer medicine) and get that damn blood pressure down. Then come back for more tests.
Ugh. So. I’ll learn more soon. After more tests. For now, figure out what is causing my BP to want to kill me and medicate me for that. Then survive Christmas.
Also, it’s the anniversary of saying goodbye to my boobs. Here’s a few pics with a wig that showed up in my memories. You’ve been warned. Some are graphic.