A couple weeks ago, I thought I would never get to write in my blog again. I went to the emergency room with such intense pain that I thought I was going to die then and there. After spending 7 hours going through all kinds of tests, they could not find anything the matter with me and referred me to a clinic if I felt the pain again. . . well, my experience with the clinic is so unmentionable that I refuse to dwell on it. I ended up going back to the emergency room the following Tuesday after I was there on a Saturday.
I used to think the world of doctors. . . but with all their expertise, they could not figure out what is the matter with me. Not even after another ten hours there. I can't believe I walked out of that hospital and caught the bus home after ten more hours of tests and all that I had gone through. I left with 10,000 dollars in bills. . .
Well, a few days later I made an appointment with a clinic and now am on a beta blocker for a month. I hate taking pills twice a day. To top that off, three days before I got this prescription, I had such bad headaches that I started taking Advil three times a day just to get through it so I could teach preschool. Really felt like a junkie. In the past month, I have taken more prescribed meds and over the counter pain relievers than during my entire life. . .and I'm old! I am not a pill taker. Rather, I WAS not. . . (I am a drug addict . . . or should be at this rate.)
I have been trying to clean and sort things in case I should die in the near future. I have so much to do as so much got neglected when I was doubling over in sharp shooting pain last month. Maybe I will never get caught up -- I guess you could call that "leaving a legacy for my children." Ü No wonder my daughter doesn't want any contact with me.
They are not going to appreciate going through my collections of stuff. I save everything just in case I might need it. Many times that has come in handy. Anyway, there is the possibility that I could recover from whatever it was and live to be 100 so I will have to sort all my "junk" after all. Things could be worse, I guess. I don't know how but . . .