I went to the doctor yesterday for my week-long saga of nausea, dizziness and generally feeling awful. As is the trend, my doctor assumed I was pregnant. Even though I explained the timing is not logical.
We did determine my blood pressure is too low when I am standing. More on par with numbers for small children or professional athletes. No cure, just "hang onto something when you stand up."
I am then escorted back to the lab where I ask to lay down for my barrage of blood work since needles and staying conscious seem to be a problem lately.Then I had to ask for water so that I could eventually pee in a cup (high maintenance patient here).
When I am done, I walk to another room and put my pee cup in a sink. I have to sit in a chair while the lab tech does the pregnancy and UTI test in front of me. She's joking about the machines doing two tests at once and casually rustling her papers around. I'm reading a letter from God to his children typed in comic sans pasted to the wall. I am positive that my God would never send letters in such a disturbing font.
When it's done, she says nothing.
I have to walk with her to a copy room where she tapes the test results to another sheet and makes copies. She says nothing. We walk back over to the doctors office together, and she hands my results to the nurse saying, "here are your answers." The nurse walks with me to the exam room and says, "I'll show him these results, and he'll be back in to talk to you about them." She says nothing about the actual results.
Now I have to wait 10 minutes before the doctor returns to tell me I am not pregnant, which I already knew but was starting to feel borderline-crazy about.
So now I am waiting for blood work results. I'm hoping for a nice infection that requires just a few pills to make me feel brand new but assures Shea that dressing me in my pajamas when I fall asleep at 8:30 with a computer on my lap wasn't just a ploy.