I'm going to give him very little space on my blog. He told me once, "The next woman I'm with will have to help me financially," and he got with someone who fit the bill. She even paid for their rings, including her engagement ring.
That's it.
During October 2017, I wasn't feeling well. I thought I was coming down with either the flu or bronchitis. I wanted to go the emergency room, but Mama coerced me to visit Urgent Care around the corner from our house instead. I was diagnosed with bronchitis and given a prescription for cough medicine with codeine. A couple days later, I turned 42. I felt horrible. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't eat; I could barely walk around the house. Mom and sis bought a cake for my birthday, but my cousin who STILL lives with us ate most of it.
I went back to work for a day. I was told by co-workers that I looked like death warmed over; I felt like it too. I ended up going home and staying there until I could find out what was really wrong. I could feel myself getting worse. I could barely breathe; I couldn't think about taking a deep breath. It hurt so bad, and I was really scared. I did keep a brave face, and looked for a new doctor since my current doctor no longer took my insurance.
My mom and I went to a hospital where the new doctor's office was located. I was escorted to a waiting room and told a nurse practitioner would see me shortly. Mama and I waited for what seemed like forever, until the office manager came into the room. She told us that because of a previous doctor that I filed two complaints on (because she called me fat and wrote it on paper), they wouldn't take me as a patient. My mom asked her, "What am I supposed to do? My baby is sick!" The woman told her to take me to the ER. I looked at her as I told my mom, "Take me to St. Mary's right now."
Mama dropped me off at the door of St. Mary's ER. I walked in and told the registrant that I was in pain and I could barely breathe. Within 5 minutes, I was getting an EKG, blood pressure was checked, and blood was drawn. I was escorted back to the waiting area, where I sat for maybe 15 minutes. I was called to the back for a waiting room. Mama told me she would wait a moment before coming back. I was given a hospital gown, and given an IV of fluid. The nurses then took me to get more tests ran. I was taken back to my room, and a doctor walked in to talk to me. He recognized my anxiety and knew I was about to have an attack. He had a nurse give me something to calm down, as Mama came in. I was so happy to see her face. She brought another beautiful face with her: my aunt De-Rance! They both helped me with my anxiety. We sat in the room for about a half hour before the nurse and doctor returned with results from all of the tests. I didn't have bronchitis. I was having a pulmonary embolism. That's right; I was misdiagnosed. I had a blood clot in my right lung, and I needed prompt treatment! I was admitted immediately, and I was given a Heparin drip. Heparin is a blood thinner.
Mama was confused and scared. She didn't realize how sick I was. De-Rance was nervous as well. I was walking around for at least two weeks with this going on. Reality set in for us: I could've died. (I had to take a break because I broke down while typing that sentence.)
I stayed in the hospital for a day and a half. Mama stayed with me the entire time. De-Rance left and went home, and my sister came later on. The insurance company was giving the hospital the runaround and told them they wouldn't take care of my stay or anything else. The care worker came and told me this when Mama wasn't in the room, and I ended up having a panic attack. A doctor and a couple nurses came in to calm me down; one gave me a sedative intravenously. When Mama came back, the care worker told her what happened and why I was having an attack. Mama was pissed off! She couldn't believe that the care worker would tell me any of the information. She told her she'd handle my business from now on. I looked at her, and nodded.
Next thing I knew, she and De-Andrea were on the case. They took care of everything for me, and the insurance company acknowledge their mistake. I was discharged that same day because I was doing better. I was breathing better as well. They gave me medication to take home, and the number of a new doctor. I stayed home for a total three weeks, and I lost almost thirty pounds since I wasn't eating anything. I barely ate on Thanksgiving, and that hurt my soul.
It's been almost three years since the embolism, and I'm feeling ok. I'm not gonna lie; I have some difficult days due to other health issues. This getting old thing is a big pain... literally and figuratively. However, I am grateful that I'm living to feel every bit of it. I thank God for my chiropractor. LOL
I'll talk about other wonderful things in another post.
Be blessed!
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