I didn’t tell you how I almost died again.

Ok, kinda almost died.

Ok, had a scare that I might have a life-threatening blood clot in my lung.

Maybe.

I’d been having weird breathing issues for about two weeks.  I don’t have asthma, but my dad and sister do.  My mom has had pneumonia like eight times and we both get bronchitis really easily, so I figured at WORST it’d be walking pneumonia.

Boy, was I in for it.

I got to my doctor’s office and he listened to my chest.  It sounded clear, but he decided to take my oxygen level.

It was 94%.

NINETY-FOUR  OUT OF ONE-HUNDRED.

If I were taking a calculus test, I’d be thrilled at a 94, but when your level is supposed to be around 98% and it’s OXYGEN we’re talking about, it’s not so great.

So, my doctor orders a chest x-ray. STAT, even.

It came out clear.  No pneumonia or anything.

He then says to me,  “I want to order a CAT scan for you.  There’s a chance you could have a blood clot in your lung.  If there IS one,  you’ll have to be admitted to the hospital for two days to go on blood thinners.”

Cue my bowels feeling liquidy and me internally yelling, “Ah shit, man! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Doc W then went on to say that he was just being cautious and nervous and that I “had everything on the good side” meaning I’m under 35, I don’t smoke, etc.

So I got scheduled for a CAT scan at 2pm across town.  I figured I’d go home, get my cell phone, pack a just-in-case bag, and then go back to the office for a bit.

As soon as I walked in my apartment, my cell phone rang: “The Fresh Cracker, this is JP from name of my doctor’s office.  You need to go to name of  hospital across town right now  and they can work you in for your CAT scan.”

That is when this cracker got a little nervous. I mean, everything was “STAT” and “ASAP” so I was like “WTF” and “OMG”.

So I go to the hospital across town and register for my CAT scan.  And they put a hospital bracelet on me.

I go to the waiting room where I sit for about seven minutes before a super nice chick comes to get me.

She explains everything [including the fact that I must remove my necklace and underwire bra] and I hop on the table.

She then explains that I will be given an IV of iodine for tracking and it will make me have an odd taste in the back of my mouth and feel like I’m wetting myself.

Yeah, right. I figured it was one of those “Warning: contents under pressure.  Cap may blow off causing eye damage” type things. Possible, but unlikely to happen.

Boy, am I glad she warned me.

After she sent the iodine through my IV, I immediately got a nasty taste in my mouth. And felt like I was whizzing all over myself.

Seriously, had I not been warned, I would’ve been all “Um, nurse? I…. I had an accident.”

So, it was all over with, and nice radiologist lady and I were laughing about the pee-feeling. 

I went and sat back in the waiting room for a bit, then they called my name, handed me my films, and told me to go back and see my PCP. [No, not THAT kind of PCP]

I get to Dr. W’s office and check BACK in, handing them my films.

Then I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

A nurse type lady comes out, calls my name, then says, “Miss Cracker.  I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.  Dr. W is figuring out what he wants to do and we’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Right then, I get sweaty palm [jsyk, my palms smell like potatoes when I sweat. dunno why] and start thinking “Shit! I can’t go into the hospital! They charge like five bucks for a BAND AID there and yeah, sure, insurance covers 80% but that means I have to pay 20% and since my office is at the hospital, I know what kind of shitbag hospital it really is and I know of people who’ve gotten CRAP care there.”

and other kinds of “Oh NOEEEEZ!” thoughts.

So I finally get called back and they put me in a room.

Dr. W comes in just a few minutes later and says…

“Your films are clear”

Good gah, I swear I almost lost control of my bowels at that point.

The good doctor goes on to tell me that I apparently had bronchitis with an asthmatic reaction.

Oh. So that’s why I’d been wheezing and struggling for breath.

So he put me on an inhaler and told me to call/come right in if the breathing problems continued.

He even had his office call me the next day to see if I was alright.

Whew!

Since then, I’ve had to use the old lung-sucker a few times. I would say that this sucks, but that would be too obvious.

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