Death becomes him

The unpleasant illness I've been experiencing since I got back from Alaska has grown worse. I worked from home all last week, and went to the doctor Thursday, praying I wouldn't just get a dismissive diagnosis. After the standard schpeel querying if it might possibly be HIV, my doctor hooked something on my finger, led me around his office, and determined it was something bronchial.

Fine.

So I went up to the main hospital to have a cat scan done by an irremediably beautiful Latino guy (thank God I got to keep my shirt on). It was not a chest infection, which would have resulted in me being checked into the ER right then and there, but he did prescribe some antibiotics and a respiratory spray.

I picked them both up on Friday, which I had off, and also had my blood tests done. My Ferritin is through the roof, so a phlebotomy is in my near future. My doctor had asked, after he'd gone through all the routine questions, "What do you think it is?" and I explained how my liver had been jutting out Ferritin through my skull cap for years, and I could feel it, like little sesame seeds being pushed through my veins and arteries. I suspected that might be the cause of the headaches.

Anyways, I made my way to TJ's, picked up some provisions, and then--having proudly taken the bus to all of these locations--I took the quick Uber ride home because it was uphill, and I wasn't about to push it.

The medication seemed to have worked the first day or two, although it doesn't seem like there's anything coming out of the respirator. I've got six more days worth of antibiotics, and my doctor said he was going to try something else if that didn't solve things.

I hate this off-kilter feeling like my life has gone awry. It's like forty hit me, and it hit me fucking hard by reminding me no amount of super-powered multi-vitamins or super green smoothies can truly make me impervious. Part of me really just wants to take a month leave after the merit is paid (which I'm the lead on this year) so I can rest up, but if my health isn't actually improving, I don't quite see the point. And being comatose in bed watching TV through fever dream eyes is pretty fucking abysmal.

I'm not eating because I have not appetite. And I'm definitely not working out, so there goes all of my gym progress and the beloved swarm of weekend endorphins. So yes, I'm hoping this shit passes STAT.

In far more lovely news, I finally got baptized last Sunday! I was teetering and not feeling my best, but it was a lovely experience. Lea showed, and was great. We went to the Palace for lunch afterwards. I'm so glad I finally did this.