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I went to see my GP's stand-in doctor today.

Everything checked out normal. My iron, B12, hemoglobin, and various other bodily substances are fine. My liver and kidney function is A-okay. We didn't discuss my fasting blood sugar level, but since he didn't mention it, I'm guessing it's not in the stratosphere.

The stand-in doctor seemed remarkably reluctant to dirty his hand's with another man's patient. He offered no explanation for my condition (which has been gradually improving) except to agree with me when I suggested that it might be a muscle virus and to recommend that if I'm still sick next week, I should make an appointment to see, you know, my own doctor. Because obviously he, the stand-in doctor, was not capable of doing anything.

*sigh* Reassuring, but also frustrating. His only other recommendation was to use heat on my back, and if that didn't work, to try Rub A535 on it. I have an old tube of Ben Gay on the medicine cabinet shelf, which I suppose will have to do.

On the way home I stopped at the Safeway in Osborne Village and picked up bread, apples, soup, margerine, tomatoes, sliced roast chicken, and a whole bunch of other meat products (hamburgers, sausages, steaks). For some reason I'm compelled to stock up on protein. No idea why. Oh, and a 2 litre of Diet Pepsi (in exciting new packaging!), because I've been craving carbonated drinks like a bitch lately. When I got home, George remarked that obviously now he has to shop for his own groceries, since I didn't get him a 2 litre Coke as well. I very nearly took his head off: I had just finished hauling home two heavy cloth bags of groceries on the bus, still feeling punky, and I'd be damned if he couldn't walk a block to the local Shell gas station and get his own bloody drinks, thank you very much. He tried to pass it off as a joke. I was not impressed or convinced.

Again, *sigh*.

I just woke up from a three-hour nap. Terri called asking if we were going out for coffee this evening, and I had to bow out because I'm feeling like shit on a shingle. And HB looms yet ahead. Oh, joy.

Off to eat some Chunky Soup (Fajita Beef) and then back to the keyboard.
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No more tingling, but the tiredness and the backache persist.

I'm managing to sit up in a chair and work on HB, but it's a real struggle. I ended up not going to my usual AD&D game today because there was no effin' way I was going to sit on a couch for eight hours straight and roll dice. Nothing against the GM, but today I really need to be able to go and lie down for an hour or two if the fancy strikes me.

A minor tragedy this morning: George, in walking past the altar which was still set up in the living room, knocked my Diana-and-Stag statue to the floor. It broke one of the stag's horns and Diana's extended arm. Fortunately the breaks are clean and [livejournal.com profile] eastpath has agreed to help me out with some epoxy, so it should be possible to mend it. If not, the statue isn't exactly hard to find and I'm pretty sure can get a new one.

(By the way, [livejournal.com profile] eastpath is home today with a nasty throat infection. *waves* Hope you're feeling better when you get around to reading this, EP! :-))

George is feeling under the weather as well (in his case mostly due to a lack of sleep lately), and so we've both been grouching around the apartment being less than civil to each other. I don't think we've had a day this acrimonious in all the years we've been married (yes, we've had a remarkably placid fourteen or so years). But we'll get over it. It's not a case of screaming at each other and throwing things, just a distinct lack of the congeniality that's usually abundantly present.

For a day with not much happening, it's been a real clusterfuck. In a quiet sort of way.
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I just got home, and immediately upon getting home I ran a hot bath and soaked in it for about ten minutes, because ladies and gentlemen, it is COLD in Winnipeg this sunny afternoon. The current temperature is -23 degrees Celcius, with a windchill of -37 degrees Celcius. Yow. I was supposed to come back home after my medical appointments, pick up a cheque that had been couriered to us this morning, take it to the bank for deposit, and then pick up some medication. Nope. No way. I'm staying put. I'll do the bank/pharmacy run tomorrow afternoon, when I'm not feeling totally chilled to the bone.

The word from my GP is... not much. He took my blood pressure (100/70), looked in my mouth, under my tongue, and down my throat (no ulcers like the one I had at the end of December), and sent me for a truly impressive round of blood and urine tests that will tell him the state of my iron, B12, liver, kidneys, and several other things. He suspects that my chronic fatigue might be caused by:

1) Anemia as a result of the nasty gushing periods I've been having for the last couple of years;

2) Pernicious anemia, which is a problem with B12 absorption; or

3) Thyroid problems, which sometimes go hand in hand with diabetes.

None of these is particularly Good News, but all are treatable. I go back to the clinic next Thursday to see my GP's stand-in doctor (since my GP will be on vacation) and get the blood test results. If anything dire comes up, they'll phone me earlier.

After the blood tests (which included a twelve hour fasting blood sugar level), I went to Perkins and chowed down on pot roast with onions and peas, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans with bacon. Then, after a final leisurely cup of coffee, it was off to the Health Sciences Centre for a meeting with my psych nurse. We talked for about half an hour, and then I went downtown -- or tried to. I must have just missed a bus, because I waited, in the freezing cold wind, for about twenty-five minutes for the next one. Y-y-y-y-y-YIKES!

Once I actually got downtown, a stop at The Bay's food store provided me with various necessities AND a lemon roll cake for tomorrow's Full Moon Group ritual. Then it was home again, home again, jiggity jig. I feel quite tired, but not as drop-dead exhausted as I would have been if I'd tried all those tricks yesterday. I think I can actually stay up and get some work done. Perhaps the chronic fatigue is the result of an infection and I'm recovering. I hope so.

I also hope that the pneumonia shot that my GP gave me today doesn't have any side effects. The flu shot I got earlier in the season knocked me flat for almost three days.
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Tomorrow morning I'll be going to see my GP and get a twelve hour fasting blood test to check on my three month blood sugar levels.

I remain concerned about the chronic fatigue; I slept for over twelve hours last night, was up for about an hour and a half earlier today, and then collapsed into bed again and slept until 5:30 pm -- and I can still barely sit upright or keep my eyes open. Fortunately there are no signs of liver or kidney involvement (no skin color change, edema, etc). Heck, it might just be an infection that isn't presenting in any particular part of my body.

I've made up a contact list for George in the event that... well, in any event. If things go wrong and I have to be admitted to hospital, he'll be contacting folks locally and making a post here on my LJ.

Yeah, yeah, I know -- dramatic! But I've never felt quite this way before in my entire life. I feel like I could easily lie down and die, and it's not connected to depression or flu symptoms. And what's subtly disturbing is that I don't really care if I do die. At least it would mean an end to this grinding non-specific weariness.

I'm going to go and try to get some HB done. Thanks for listening.
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