Screenshots and Needles (Day 116, Year 2)

Friends, I just spent 10 minutes trading screenshots of my bloodwork with a friend--a friend who I consider young like me. 

But perhaps "young like me," is the wrong expression. 

Because nothing says modern old lady, like a screenshots of your liver and A1C numbers. 

You are probably wondering how I ended up here. 

Today, I went to the doctor (the only place you still have to wear a mask!). 

I know for most people this might not be a momentous proclamation; but for me it is for a variety of reasons. I am a terrible patient. The blood pressure cuff brings up intense trauma from my bouts with preeclampsia. I never have free time for my own medical care--three children, the diabetic dog and 17 commitments in a day will suck the self-care time out of you. And, I spent the last two years in a strange, stressful, dysfunctional dance with my former general practitioner, who would cancel appointments last minute and then offer new times months in advance at a time that I could not make it, blame me and hold my blood pressure medicine script hostage. 

(I gave them 0 stars on Yelp.)

Anyway, I am a hypocrite because I routinely yell at others for their lack of preventive medicine check ups! I absolutely shame them, ringing my shame bell and pointing my finger. Yet, here I am, avoiding, avoiding, avoiding and secretly rejoicing that my former doctor was such a wanker (because they made sure I did not go, which was exactly what I wanted!). 

I went today to a new doctor. It had not been that long, really, since I'd had a well check-up, but long enough. I almost did not go because Penn changed my appointment from one location to another, adding to my drive time. But, I rallied, because making the appointment was indeed the hardest part and I could not handle repeating the call and request for a appointment. My blood pressure was fine at the appointment; which always shocking. I am medicated; but I always suspect the medicine has failed and I am close to stroke. 

The doctor did not seem to think I was close to stroke. But, the my blood work came back and I am clearly suffering from all sorts of morbid disorders and things with exclamation points and now have to eat only broccoli, while training for a half marathon. 

Seriously, guys, how did I end up here?

The good news, according to my old lady friend, is that since I did not officially fast (and ate a large, ill-advised handful of cookies at midnight) that my blood work is, perhaps, "Whack."

Oh, but now, there is no hope, again, because some of my formerly "whack" blood work did not require fasting.  But, then again, I feel fine, minus the intense anxiety and nagging sense that I have horrible disease. 

Honestly, the entire situation is exhausting. But, is it the situation? Or is it the medical condition causing fatigue?

I don't even know anymore! 

I have to screenshot my bloodwork and text to more old lady friends for answers!