Fallen Fearfully Into the Hands of Modern Medicine

 

What I am longing for.

Well, yesterday was a fucking disaster. We arrived at the clinic at 8 am to have my vitals rechecked because of the mast cell. They said they wanted to listen to my lungs. I had no idea what I was about to walk into.

Writing this listening to obscure bands, British Lions, Dead Boys, Daycare Swindlers, Nuclear Regulatory Commission and Mambo Sons to name but a few. I feel a little punk rockish today.

When I arrived I was hustled out back quickly. I figured. I'd gotten the quarantine notice from the CR Health Dept - the Salud - shortly after I tested positive. Ten days from first symptoms. Tomorrow is day eight from onset. So I'm almost there now.

The troubles started when Miss Dee, the young doctor treating me, said she'd consulted with a critical care pulmo about my case. They were preparing to wrap me up, and transport me to the Covid hospital in San Jose because they believed with my illnesses that I would decompensate and need more monitoring and treatment. 

But first I had to repeat most of the tests and vitals I'd done the day before. Plus an EKG. The pulmo was worried it would affect my heart. The tests showed I'd actually improved in the last 12 hours, I had good blood pressure readings, no fever, good high oxygen stats, clear lungs and best of all not a damn thing wrong with my heart. I got to go home. But I have to show up tomorrow and do all this minus the EKG again. 

I guess I should be happy someone takes my mast cell seriously, but seriously at the same damn time Dr Dee was firing off the kinds of questions I get from doctors who have never run up on a case of mast cell before, was I really really sure I was steroid intolerant? How was my bleeding disorder diagnosed? What meds do I take? Why am I not taking med x, y, or z?

We had a semi "Come to Jesus" moment where I explained how many years I'd had this crap, and how I'd discovered which H1, H2 and Proton Pump Inhibitors worked for me, and what I need to do to stay healthy. I know one thing, I am masking again. Fuck this noise, I feel better, but not well. Feels like a the same kind of crazy exhaustion I had after I had my two strokes. I hate this feeling!

Some of it I think is a language barrier. Between my shitty Spanish and her shitty English she may have panicked when I told her my lungs felt "tight" I had to explain that is a normal state when I'm having a lot of asthma problems. Not ever going to tell her tomorrow that not only am I tight, but I am having what I mentally call "Crispy Lung" where the entire lining of my lungs aches and feels weird and to use the nebulizer just burns like hell. For sure Covid is doing a number on my lungs, but not as badly as a volcanic eruptions or exposure to peanuts.

Please excuse my rambling, one of the things they did was double my neb treatments and give me a cough syrup filled with salbuterol, so I'm now unable to sleep and am hopped up on these stupid meds.

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