and then

I had titled this blog post a long time ago. I don't know what I was thinking when I did, but it seems to fit ... the continuation of something, but not clear what, and no end, just leaving us all in suspense.

and then --

No, I'm actually not OK.

Two opthalmologists and a neuro-opthalmologist say there's nothing wrong with me, and yet I can't see right. Things are randomly blurry. My eyes hurt. I can't read past the floaters. The ringing in my ears is out of my control. The dripping down my throat is out of control.

The endocrinologist I was supposed to see two weeks ago in Philly for a second opinion about the pituitary condition potentially triggered by the concussion and causing dehydration called while I was 20 minutes away and had to reschedule to this week. My mammogram last week, which was supposed to be a two part mammo-and-ultrasound (which is how it always happens for me), got completely fucked up so now I have to go back in for second imaging and then an ultrasound on yet ANOTHER day. I saw a THIRD ENT last week, who said he'll treat me like everyone else (he doesn't think it's a CSF leak) and just suggested sinus surgery. My physiatrist, who I thought was the only one who actually gave a shit about my case and was trying to put the pieces together, after I sent her an impassioned plea through my portal to ask who can help, told me in a one line response to "send her an update" when I schedule my sinus surgery. Today, because I am truly fucked, the gastroenterologist I was supposed to see in May (for my first colonoscopy, after my second parent now died of GI tract cancer) called -- they're out on medical leave -- and rescheduled my appointment to July. 

At the end of every appointment, they all say the same thing: "call me if anything changes."

Except that's why I called them in the first place.

Because things have changed, and I am not OK.

Because I am not OK, I called a therapist. She is out of town, but will see me the 17th. I talked with her on the phone, and she sounds kind. If I can make it to then (I can make it to then, right? It's only five days from now) I will pay her to care about me, because no other health care provider does any more. She was concerned enough about what I was saying to her that she referred me to see a psychiatrist ASAP to be "cleared." I called his office. His earliest appointment is the 26th.

But if "anything changes," I should go to the ER. Which will tell me I'm not an emergency because I'm not having a heart attack. I know, because I've been there before.

Friends, I am not OK. This is all not OK, because I am definitely not OK.

and then --