I was taking my second cup of coffee the other morning when I received this call: “Hi Jenny, this is Dr. Menon’s office. You need to go to the emergency room immediately. You have a pulmonary embolism.”
Pulmonary embolism? Isn’t that what the old man on the street deviates in an ambulance on Wednesday afternoon? “Old Mr. Wiggins was such a friendly man and an excellent gardener,” the neighbors say, “but he was 90 years old, after all, a surprise is not exactly a surprise.”
For me, however, a physical education did not make sense. I am in the middle of the 50 years (at age 50, or less, they are not young, but not “old”. I am small and as healthy foods, I do not drink or smoke, I am active, I am young from heart. I feel like a child, mistreat of apple. I walk everywhere, I stay flaccitized. I limit myself to attraction 3 episodes of something at the same time (I could even do a little yoga while I looked at long flights. I hit most of the other people waiting there and took me to a room for the tests.
How it began: I had had these strange pains in recent months. They climbed a little, on the right side of my chest, then later on the left. Sometimes the jab was more nervous than other times. I also felt strange sensations on the neck and even in my jaw. But the pains were fleeting. My breathing was fine. Inhalation did not get pain. My left arm did not hurt. Nothing else was wrong. And, now knowing that aging brings all kinds of pain and pain without any good reason, I was tempted to mark everything to Father Time’s bad streak. (The mother’s time would never be so cruel, right?)
But my pain tolerance is not great. I have had a lot, and now when I feel something new I wear a little paranoid. Finally I saw my usual doctor, who said it was not a heart attack; First he thought it was musculoskeletal, or inflammation in my connective tissue or lung tissue. As someone with autoimmune diseases, inflammation is my constant partner, so this made some sense. These were not deadly problems, just things to identify and rectify.
The pain decreased for a while, so my doctor suggested that we hope and see if it disappeared completely. He did not.
Then, she ordered a computerized tomography and reserved it quietly. Just to be sure, you know. Nothing to do here.
And then the call comes. Take you to an emergency room. Now.
It turns out that I have multiple embolisos (embolia? Yes, that has to be fine) in my lungs, both sides. They appear in the CT while Little White falls through a black film, such as dotted milk. I am surprised how many are there. More than 10! Some of them look like fleeting stars, light stripes that reach an abrupt end.
And a PE is already the bad result of something: “Blood clots can cause physical education, a potentially deadly pulmonary condition, Yadda Yadda.” I prefer that my problems are At least two Steps removed from the worst.
During the stay at the hospital of 2 days, the documents did not find other clots, nothing on the legs or groin where the clots are often formed. Where and why mine arrived is still a mystery that my hematologist said we could not solve. I have had theories, of course, that my doctors are always delighted to consider. My diet has included a fairly excessive amount of vitamin K lately, for example. K Promote coagulation. Did I do this with blueberries, collized and cocoa cocoa breakfast bars? There may also be a Genetic componentAlthough my mother’s physical education (yes, she had one) was probably due to a medication error … a story for another time.
Probably, says the hematologist, this is just my own inflammation prone system doing what I do best: fighting my own body from the inside. What scares me is that many people I know would have ignored such inconsistent pains longer than me. My symptoms were not large enough to suggest EP. Usually, people have severe pain, breathing problems, things like that. But where there are clots, surely there will be more clots soon. One of them could be the greatest that is approaching the heart or brain with a mortal flowering. Ta da! Final curtain.
It is not really a great epiphany, but this is what this essay is about: listen to your body. Listen hard. This is actually the second time that I almost convinced myself to pursue a “strange pain” and I would have ended up later. (Ask me about my autoimmune pancreatitis). And although I am not happy to be in another super drug (read: damn it, expensive and limiting) to keep myself upright, I am grateful for them to exist. Much obliged.
Who of our readers has had a surprise of this type, something that made you realize that you have crossed an age and health threshold that you expected that it was still far away? Probably enough. Because think about it: the Hoedown between our genetics and toxic exhibitions and bad sugary diets and bad decisions and the fate of the raffle makes us an experiment, a subject in the study of what the body can take. At some point, he can’t carry anymore.
However, as long as we are still running out of the attack, remember how good it is to be here. Regardless of All things that happen right nowLife is still the best option. Today, settling in my new fragility, I am sitting on my porch, coffee in my hand, listening to the bird’s talk. I remember how much I love spring and relief breathing that I am here to enjoy it.
Photo Clay benches in Without stellar
#word
