Yeah, I'm an ass. I've been incommunicado.
I disappeared. I finally got in to see a cardiologist, and the news was really shitty. He took one look at a report that a previous group pretty much ignored and put me on serious cardiac meds, told me to wean my daughter *now* and that I probably shouldn't have more kids. Oh, and since this is genetic, I'd better make sure daughter gets screened before participating in athletic activity, cause this is the kinda thing that causes 12 year olds to drop dead on soccer fields.
You can imagine how well I took this. Well, in true M'Lynn fashion, I rallied. I whimpered in self pity on the way home, then decided, this needed a kick in the ass. What's the alternative really? I have a fan-fucking-tastic family, and I'm going to be around as long as possible to enjoy them. I was going to beat this.
First, I posted to Dr. Hale's lactation forums to ask about the medication. He is the leading authority on medication and mother's milk, and since I'm a nurse, I can log in and ask questions. He said that the amount that is transferred to the milk combined with how little milk a toddler actually gets is negligible and to nurse without worry. I went on the meds, and meanwhile, was doing a hellish communte for a short term job in a surgery center. I also decided that having a positive attitude was the way to go, cause no one ever got better saying and thinking, "I'm not getting better." I heard John St. Augustine tell this story on the radio just before my diagnosis, and it really stuck with me. I visualized my heart pumping blood more effectively (it helps that I know exactly what this looks like, cause I've done open heart surgery.)
A few months into that job, I fell and sprained the hell out of my ankle. I was in a cast for weeks. Pain, pain, pain. It had been about eight weeks since I started the medication. My doctor wanted to do another test to compare to the original. Guess what?
The test was normal. Completely normal. Like, what a 34 year old should be. So much so that they ordered a copy of the original test that the other practice did to review it, cause this was a huge difference. Two separate physicians reviewed the original. It was read correctly the first time. The problem was there. However, it's not there now.
The doctors can't explain it. I'm on a fairly low dose of medication. However, next to them saying, "Your original doctor was clearly high when she read this, you never had a problem," this is the best possible news I could get. I asked him about future pregnancy...could I? He said, "Sure, just come see me before you do, and we'll check you out again..." I asked him if I needed to hook up with a high risk obstetrician. He said, "Nope." He said that they could change my medication to what they give pregnant women with blood pressure issues...that it's quite safe.
So, now that I'm out of the cast, I'm not really doing a particular diet thing, but I am moving my copious ass. The treadmill is fixed, and I'm doing the Couch to 5k running plan. I'm not a runner. I *hate* running. However, I'm loving this. Hubby scored me an ipod shuffle on jellyfish.com (which I'll detail in another post.) I have loaded it up with shake that ass music (and I have awful taste in music...really,) and the thirty minutes flies by. Take a look and check it out.
Food is an obstacle. I loooove to eat. Plus, it's been stressful, as always...pain and limited mobility for a while, self pity and worry that would creep in about my heart, something else huge that I won't get into here, and the loss of my 13 year old beagle made it hard. However, I didn't gain, which is more than a little amazing. So, I'm back on the horse. Let's ride!