I stopped checking my weight obsessively. I've been eating normally and thus weigh 71-73kg, depending on the day. I have had a chat with myself (I have these often apparently) and I've decided that it's best not to check my weight quite so often. It's just depressing. And I don't need help feeling that way. Trust me.
So, once again a considerable amount of things have happened since my last post. I don't have a ton of time, but I'll write what I can in the time I have, and if I feel so inspired tomorrow, I will continue.
I last wrote on the 27th of April. I mentioned that the doctors had decided that nothing too sinister was going on, but they were going to run x amounts anyway just to be safe. So, the good news is, the ultrasound revealed nothing sinister, and on Monday I'm hoping the blood and other related tests reflect that ultrasound results. On Thursday next week I will be visiting the professor lady so she can change my meds. I can no longer take the pill and spiractin as the pill has become very dangerous for me to take. The aforementioned meds have been controlling my acne, quite effectively might I add, but now it seems I cannot take them any longer. My one remaining option is Roaccutane - this one has been linked to depression/suicide. I'm not thrilled, but it's a six month course and it means clear skin (well, that's what I'm hoping). Now, one Friday evening at approximately seven pm the cardiologist rings us to say that he's had a chat with his mate the lung specialist (I assure you I'm paraphrasing and that this is not what was actually said) and that his mate the lung specialist had said that there were reported cases of the pill affecting pressure in the lungs. Yay, we have a cause. But wait, there's more. The effects the pill has on my lungs are terribly damaging and permanent. So... this is all fun to be hearing when you've been taking variations of the pill on and off for the last five or so years.
It does explain my inexplicable lack of fitness. Even I can't believe how unfit I am. But now I know I'm not, my lungs just won't help me. So now I have to visit the cardiologist's friend the lung specialist. And that's on the 9th of June. So it's suffice to say that I am very, very unexcited about this whole medical deal. I have more problems than ever before and it doesn't site terribly well. I'm scared and nervy because I feel like they're going to tell me things I don't need or want to hear. What if my lungs are wrecked? What will I do then? They're already making it difficult to play netball, it hurts to breathe. It hurts to breathe. My throat and chest ache. I get in enough air but it hits my chest like I just breathed in a lungful of razors. Highly unpleasant.
I just wanted it to all be okay, you know? I just wanted to be happy and have a working, functioning body that didn't go off and do things as it pleased. It's really not comforting to know that your own body doesn't want you to succeed.
I'm also feeling really tired, really sad and really defeated. I shall write more tomorrow, because there is so much more left to tell, ponder and discuss.
- Sky
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