Ever have a week where you're convinced you've been cursed? Make you ready to burn some sage? That was last week.
There has been drama at work, including several coworkers complaining about my being allowed to pump at work (don't even get me started) and about me having been allowed to take a leave of absence (which is corporate policy for all new parents at my company.)
David found a large, hard lump in his mouth. Being me, I assumed it was cancer immediately. Turns out to be a bone over-growth and doesn't even require treatment.
The daycare is giving my new nanny hell because they say she's breaking her non-compete to work for me. (She quit before we ever spoke and the way that the non-compete is worded, she's not allowed to work for another business. Which I am not.) That culminated on Saturday with them saying they are going to sue her. She's a 21 year old student that they were paying minimum wage. To say I'm angry is the understatement of the decade.
But the real highlight of the week was Thursday night spent in the E.R.
After Charlotte was born, I had a lot of trouble with my blood pressure and was on medicine for a while. Fortunately, eventually, I was able to wean off and do just fine. I had been on lebetalol during that time and had all sort of cruddy side effects. I also suspected it was at least contributing to my anxiety issues, so I was glad to get off of it.
Well, Thursday morning I had a doctor's appointment for some ankle pain I've been having. It had suddenly gotten much worse and I was limping most of the time. (I told you it was a crappy week.) While I was there, my blood pressure was up. It was 150/90. After we talked about my ankle (brace, anti-inflammatories) she asked that I monitor my blood pressure a few times and call with the log in a week so she could see if I was going to need some meds again. No problem.
I had taken the kids to the (hated) daycare for the day, and I was off. I decided to take advantage of the free time and take a bath. When I got out, I felt funny. I thought maybe I got too hot, so I laid down across my bed. And felt worse. And worse. And worse. I took my blood pressure- 160/90. Well, hell.
So I meditated a bit, drank some water. 170/90. Shit.
David got home (that was the day he found out he didn't have oral cancer) and we decided to pick the kids up from daycare together and then we'd get some dinner. Halfway there, I asked if he minded if we didn't go to dinner. I REALLY didn't feel well.
Came back home, laid back down again. My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. I couldn't quite catch my breath. I tried to meditate a little bit again, but I was so anxious, I couldn't focus. Took my blood pressure again- 181/111. Well, son of a bitch. That's the line you don't want to cross.
So I went out, told David I needed to go to the hospital, called my dad to come stay with the kids and off we went to the nearest E.R.
I hadn't been to an E.R. for myself since I was probably 19. I hope to go at least as many years before I see one again.
I went in, told the receptionist I was having chest pain and my blood pressure was up. They took me straight back and gave me an EKG. And then another. I was treated very well by the medical professionals. Unfortunately the hospital itself is a bit odd. Every time I'd have a test, I'd have to undress at least part-way. Then re-dress and go wait in the waiting room. And then they'd call me for another test, and I'd undress again. And then re-dress and go to the waiting room. Not so much fun for someone having trouble calming down.
Before it was all said and done, I had 3 EKGs, 3 round of blood work and a chest x-ray. I did eventually make it back to a room where I didn't have to get up and down a bunch of times. The nursing staff was lovely. The doctor was just so-so.
He came in a few times and looked at my readings (I got as high as 180/113 while there) and would say "well, it's certainly high..." But no one really did anything about it. I guess they had to rule out a heart attack before doing anything else? I don't know.
I kept breaking out into a sweat and then it would pass again. I felt horrible.
When the doctor finally decided I hadn't had a heart attack (yay!) and just needed some BP medicine, I reminded him that I was a nursing mother. His response was "Well, THAT certainly complicates things." Apparently I'm just a total pain in the ass.
I had specifically asked NOT to be put on Labetalol because of the weird side effects from before, but of course, he came back and said that was the "best" one for a nursing mother and that's all he'd give me. If I wanted something else, I'd have to follow up with my primary care doctor. Thanks, buddy.
All in all, I was only there about 4 hours, which really isn't bad, in my opinion. And after they gave me the IV of Labetalol, I felt MUCH better. I was very relieved I didn't have to stay and could go back home to my kids.
The unfortunate thing is that I'm now quite positive that the Labetalol was a large source of the anxiety I was having before. Because it's back. It gets close to sundown and it feels like the world is caving in on me. Eventually (hours later) it passes, but while it's going on, I just feel numb and distracted and joyless. It sucks.
I can't get into my regular doctor again until Tuesday. And they wouldn't change my med until they see me. So I'm stuck being on a medicine that keeps me alive but makes me feel dead. I just keep telling myself it's only a few days.
Hopefully this coming week will be better. No law suits, no hospitals, no anxiety. Someone get the sage!