I hate the medical field. Now before I have a bunch of people pissy about that statement, let me explain.
If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that I’ve been dealing with two bouts of epiglottitis; one this year and one the year before. After this second round, the doctors have determined that it’s weird and maybe we should look into this a little more. So I got shipped off to a few doctors. (Strike that, 5 specialists.) Now after my most recent visit with the infectious disease specialist, I get told that it could be a few different things. One: I get to deal with it for the rest of my life with no treatment or prevention available. Just a pack of emergency antibiotics and steroids which I get to take and haul ass to the local ER for the tube and IVs and everything else. Not a matter of if, just a matter of when. Or, because my immune system is so crappy, they are very suspicious with how my labs have come back and think it may be pointing to leukemia. Fuck that I say. How can there not be answers?!?!
Fuck all of it because I’m 27. Fuck it because I had to cancel my wedding a month and a half before my wedding date because of choices my ex-fiancé made that made marrying him not an option (which is a separate thing but it’s my rant so there). Fuck it because I want a family and someone to stand by my side and treat me the way I deserve. Fuck it because I’m a damn good paramedic and firefighter and I’m not done with doing that yet. Fuck it because I’m not done teaching, not done making cookies with kids or eating Popsicles with my nieces and nephews. All it would take is a botched intubation attempt, or a failure to differentiate a simple sore throat and the onset of this crap again. It took a couple of hours for the onset this year vs a whole 24 hours last year.
So, as I sit here and pour out my feelings while watching SONS, all I ask is for the handful of people that actually read this, to send some good thoughts my way. I want guidance for my doctors and an answer to all of this.
Cheers and Merry Christmas