Not what I wanted...

Half of me remains convinced that the huffing and puffing is because of Dyautonomia.  Half of me is still rather worried about it being otherwise.  Half of me is clinging to my GP's optimism.

Today, the visit with the rheumatologist went mostly as expected.  Her part of my blood work is what she would expect to see.  I am to repeat it and come back.  She gave me another eye drop option, but it is brand new and rather expensive.  I have made do with the Restasis primarily because you can stretch out each vial for many days, as long as you do not touch the tip to your eye and you keep it in the refrigerator.  I could do without the constant burning and stinging of the medication, but it has greatly helped the dryness in my eyes.

But the very minute she walked in, my doctor said, "So you've been short of breath?"  I nodded and told her about the pulmonary function testing next week.  "It's not your lungs. It's your heart.  When do you see the cardiologist?"

Gut punch.

Whilst I was sitting there, she fired off a note to my cardiologist, asking him to review the blood work, and I found myself worrying anew all over again.  She was very firm in her opinion.  SIGH.

I like my rheumatologist, even though she is pretty much the antithesis of me.  I am loquacious and she is taciturn.  But she reviews my chart before I arrive, reviews the test information, listens to me, takes notes on what I talk about, and dictates her chart note whilst I am in the room so that I can hear here.  Hers is the quickest doctor appointments I have and yet I do not feel as if I am being overlooked or neglected.

I like her.
But I am worried.

Something I have noted, though, is that in the past few days, my rising resting heart rate has been coming back down.  The graph is a sharp upward trajectory, with a steady decline past the peak.  It looks like a mountain.

I sort of laugh at that.  By the time I see the cardiologist, my huffing and puffing will be all better.  I should have made a stink about going in two weeks ago.  Don't get me wrong, I am glad that I have had less pain on the treadmill the past couple of days and walking up to my bedroom is a smidgeon easier.  However, whatever is happening I would like documented.  Not for ... proof ... but so that the next time this happens—if the shortness of breath is easing—I will know what is happening and if there is any treatment.

But I might be getting ahead of myself.
There could be much huffing and puffing still to come.

I had worked up to 35 minutes on the treadmill, but I dropped it down to 20.  I read that anything less than 30 is useless, but I am hoping that having my hear rate so high means my 20 minutes are useless.  I just cannot torture myself a minute past that mark.  I keep walking, though, because if I stop whilst I wait to learn what is going on with me, I am most certain I will never start again.

The appointment was hard because her words were not want I wanted to hear.  I wanted her to echo the cautious optimism of my GP, so I could gather their hope around me like one of my weighted blankets.  I have not worried as much as I have been save for the weeks before the pacemaker surgery, when I worked at saying goodbye to folk.  I have been so worried that I have lost four pounds in the past week.  That is a bloody miracle, but I am sure worry weight loss isn't permanent.

Ever since I was put on the theophylline, I have not felt hungry.  It is a side effect of the drug.  I thought that, once I stopped the medication, feeling hunger would return, but it hasn't.  Every now and then, I feel a bit peckish, but no real hunger.

I often say, these days, I spend so much time being pummeled by violent waves of nausea that I want to eat as much tasty food as possible when the nausea subsides.  But ever since I saw my blood work posted a week ago tonight I have lost that ... enthusiasm ... for tasty food.  I have found myself sitting and thinking and worrying until hours and hours have passed.  I am so alone and so scared that I do not have room for reading or music or streaming.  I am completely and utterly overwhelmed.

As I said, I am nearly certain this is the dysautonomia.  But, if it is, that means that it is yet another new normal that I must somehow learn to accept ... and endure.  That thought is what has me so completely and utterly overwhelmed.

You see, I don't think it is my lungs because none of my current lung medications help.  If it were Sjögren's damaging my lungs, I think the x-ray would have shown something.  If it were neither asthma or Sjögren's, then, again, the x-ray would have pointed to crappy lobes in my chest.

I don't think that it is my heart because my GP spent a long time listening to me last Friday and because the x-ray shows a normal size and does not show any fluid loading.  Anything more serious with my heart would have, I believe, other symptoms than merely shortness of breath with exertion.

I think it is crappy nerves doing crappy things and messing up my normal function.  And, frankly, I have absolutely no room on my plate for another new normal.  None.  Zero.  Zilch.

What I heard today was not what I wanted.
Not at all.
SIGH.