I was sick most of April. Had a nasty flu bug that set me on my butt, hard. This was the second illness in less than four months. That alarmed me. If it was flu, then shouldn’t I have acquired a resistance from the December event? It seems the bug had morphed and came around for a second go. This time, the bug made its home in my lungs and I had a barking cough from the start. Not good. Especially since two of my friends who also caught the same germ felt compelled to take themselves to emergency clinics, and both were diagnosed with pneumonia.
After two weeks and no sign of improvement, I decided to go to the clinic, too. After a reasonable four-hour wait I received treatment. X-Rays revealed “something” on the lungs, but since I haven’t heard back, I guess the “something” was not a “bad-thing”. The attending MD prescribed Ventolin just in case… but I haven’t needed it. I returned to my sick-bed, knocked back the Buckleys and waited out the germs. I have, more or less, recovered.
But. When the triage nurse took my vitals, I had a shock. My blood pressure was 157/100. Later at home using our personal monitor, ditto. Uh-oh.
It would appear that I was sick for a reason. That is, to uncover the fact that my blood pressure has gone from normal to near dangerous in three short months.
One of my sick friends also had elevated BP. Her MD suggested it was a spike related to the illness. That fits with what my triage nurse told me.
But how long does a spike last? I recorded 10 points HIGHER, yesterday, almost two weeks since the clinic visit. That’s getting mighty close to danger territory. Combine that fact with my awful-izing tendencies, and you have me not only updating my last will and testament, but dramatizing my story here on T-ZAMB.
As to the title of this piece: each of the attending medical staff that day remarked on the blood pressure and urged me to see my doctor.
It’s been four years since I last clapped eyes on my MD. I don’t want to return. I have declared myself without a medical practitioner ever since. Which is a very, very risky thing to do in this political climate when family doctors are scare.
I had three appointments with her. Twice for a physical, and once with a badly sprained ankle. After each visit, she left me feeling confounded by her professional medical care.
When I told her of tinnitus, she did not check my ears because “everyone gets tinnitus.” With the injured ankle, her idea of examination was to reach out with her foot to test mine.
During one physical, she completed half the routine, then told me to go to Walmart to have my blood pressure checked. Her exact words. She was in a hurry to get through her case load and get on with her vacation to Amsterdam.
You tell me: would you trust your blood pressure issues with a doctor who prescribes Walmart?
We won’t even discuss the fact that one entire wall of her office is clad in Barbie dolls.
Two weeks ago, when I was at the emergency clinic, I went to the office of an MD who I happen to know is receiving new patients. I have the application form. On the first page is the query: Why did you leave your last Doctor?
Good question. How do I answer that?
“We have differing ideas on what constitutes professional behaviour.” or “She has Barbies all over her wall.”
Seriously, I want to answer the question so that I don’t come across as a dingbat. I don’t want the new guy to disqualify me because he thinks I’m troublesome. But I don’t want to be disqualified because I already have a local MD.
Clearly, a medical professional must attend to my blood pressure concerns. Tomorrow I will take my application to the new doctor. I may attach a letter pleading my case. Or not. I have no idea what it will take to convince this guy to consider my needs as worthy.
But if I don’t hear from him soon, or if the answer is negative, I may have to call up Dr. Barbie and schedule a visit.
What is the reason for this frustrating medical situation? Stay tuned. I’m sure all will be revealed, sooner or later. In the meantime, it’s me, Dr. Google, and you.
Categories: In Other News