Data, Data, Everywhere...

I am on a 14-day heart monitor. If that doesn't provide enough data to figure out what is going on, I don't know what will.  I am, for the record, rather thankful for the cardiologist visit, though I shudder to think of what this expense will ultimately be.

For one, he was gentle and kind and actually kept a physical difference from me when not actually examining me.  For another, he listened. Then, there is the fact that he actually has some knowledge of Dysautonomia.  And, finally, he is taking a totally different approach.  By this I mean, he is wondering if my stress hormones ... all those things I wrote about in the second entry on the blog about trauma and the brain ... are part of the problem.  By this I mean, cortisol or norepinephrine or another hormone could be part of the problem. Or it could be that I am having an exaggerated response to small stimuli, as if the flight or flight reaction of our bodies somehow has become stuck in the on position.  To me, this is something that makes sense.  And, he is rather surprised that the line of testing he wants to do has not yet been done.

Step One is the longer heart monitoring period.  Step Two is a better endocrine work-up.  Step Three is to see what lots of data shows about my heart rate.

He is concerned about the widening pulse pressure (the difference between the systolic and diastolic pressure) I am experiencing.  Would it be weird to say that I was a tad relieved that he got to see that whilst I was in the office?

I will say that I feel like I am in an episode of Star Trek with this newfangled biosensor technology adhered to my chest.  Try not to be jealous!

I would also note another score from Google Doctor.  You see, I decided what was wrong with my foot was plantar fasciitis.  I cannot fathom how it could have just come on like that, but I spent copious amounts of time resting, massaging, and stretching my left foot.  I went from barely being able to walk on it by the end of that first day, to nary a twinge today.  I am ever so thankful that that flare-of-whatever is gone.   

Amos, as I thought, is already well on his way to adoring his new aunt.  He has already helped himself to something from her purse and has put his paws up on her legs hoping she would pick him up.  No doubt he will want to be snoozing with his head draped across her shoulder soon.

Tonight, I cooked for Wynne, making her the Raspberry Chipotle Baked Chicken, the Grilled Corn on the Cob with Lime and Cheese, and some Apple Praline Bread.  Sadly, I messed up on the latter so it is only a B- effort/result.  We actually used crema, instead of the mayonnaise substitute, which I found tasty.  I might possibly have dropped flaming husks on the back of my puppy dog, but I don't really want to revisit that bit of drama and trauma.  He is well.  We were sated.  As a sop to his battle with flaming husks, I let Amos clean two of the corn dishes.  He happens to really like lime and crema and feta.

Wynne and I also drank some wine.  Marie had suggested another wine to try, and I found it on sale.  So, I have now had a moscato.  I really liked it.  But I also enjoyed the whole normalcy of cooking and visiting and having a glass of wine with someone.  I want to make her Basil Burgers and, perhaps, another lime dish that is yet to be found.

May a weekend of tastiness abound!


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!