Life of me

This morning I woke up and there was no sinus dripping down my throat, no pounding headache hovering behind my eyes, no wheezing pumping out of my lungs! The allergic rashes are gone!  The diarrhea has disappeared!  My blood pressure is within human range!

It looks like I will survive.  The life of me will continue on.

One of the hardest parts of getting sick is the treacherous route through the doctor's office where, in the name of doing no harm, they force me down paths seldom traveled by a simple bacterial infection.

A bad reaction to the antibiotic was bad enough.  My Achilles tendons are still recovering, but the nuclear stress test was unbelievable.  Thanks to three weeks of unremitting coughing my muscles were aching, so over zealous nurse practitioners hustled me off to the emergency room where they kept me prisoner for six hours of ekgs, cat-scans of my head, x-rays, and ivs while the doctor ambled in and out looking at my blood pressure stats.  She shook her head and asked, "Are you feeling tense?"

This Thanksgiving I am grateful my doctor finally put me back on the medicine that works and quit trying to find something better. 

Six weeks of misery almost obliterated the light at the end of the tunnel.  There were times when I forgot how it all even started.  I began to think of myself as a heart patient, as an invalid, as someone who would go in for blood tests every ten days for the rest of my short and unhappy life.

But today I emerged from the valley of the shadow of modern medicine.  The life of me will go on.