February 28, 2014

So This Was My Friday...

The perinatologist's office must be updating the patient portal they recently implemented, because I received about a dozen - literally - e-mails from them today.

Most of them were appointment reminders, with a few appointment cancellations thrown in for good measure, all related to past appointments. Then came an e-mail titled "Important Health Information Message". It sounded, well, important...so I clicked on the link.

It told me that based on my most recent appointment on Tuesday, I have high blood pressure.

First of all - um, yeah, no surprise there, I've been on medication for that for more than a year. Second of all - thank you for taking the wind out of my "yea, my blood pressure is doing well!" sails. I was actually quite pleased about my reading on Tuesday (122/64), particularly given that I had forgotten to take my medication that morning and because it was my first ever peri appointment without R there. (He was at home with Miss A, who somehow came down with scarlet fever on Sunday night. She is doing much better now and is mostly recovered.)

About 15 minutes later came another "Important Health Information Message" e-mail. Having not learned my lesson from the first one, I clicked again.

It told me I was fat.

Well, not in those words exactly, but something about a BMI above 30 and obesity, and well, you get the picture.

"But, wait!" I wanted to tell it. "You don't understand! I was wearing tennis shoes. And jeans. And I had just eaten lunch. And drank a lot of water. So my number isn't really quite as dire as you're making it out to be."

Except that e-mail messages about your BMI don't really care about what shoes or clothes you're wearing, and what you just ate. In reality, I know I need to lose a good bit of weight. And as much as I wish they did, the shoes and clothes and even the late lunch don't add up to enough to move me down to below 30, into the overweight category instead.

A couple of hours later, a nurse from my PCP's office called. She was calling to follow up on whether I had gone for an ultrasound on my leg.

It's a long story which I won't bore you with, completely unrelated to the bulge on my other leg that I mentioned in my last post, and nothing I was worried about. I had tried to get the ultrasound a couple days ago, but when I got to the imaging center there was a mix-up and they wound up not being able to do it, and I hadn't gotten around to rescheduling yet.

The nurse asked if I could drop everything and go get the ultrasound this afternoon.

So I did, and as soon as the ultrasound tech put the wand on the spot, she said, "Oh, look at that - you have a lovely varicose vein!"

Normally, my age doesn't bother me much. But today, after that little pronouncement, I'm feeling a bit middle-aged for the first time.

Then when we got home tonight after picking Miss A up from day care, I opened the mail. I had asked R last month if we had paid the December IVIG bill, and he said yes. It turned out we had paid the November one but not the December one. We owe more than $4,200.

So now I'm feeling middle-aged and financially broke.

But Kiddo's heart was still beating strong and he was wiggling around on Tuesday. And Miss A is on the mend, spends her weekdays in a wonderful day care where all the teachers truly care about her and where she loves hanging out with her little friends, and she continues to amaze us every day.

So overall, even middle-aged and financially in a major hole, life is still very, very good.

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