Ok I know your probably eager to hear what the hell happened. On Dec 30th I had an awkward dream. I dreamt that for whatever reason I was once again in the hospital. On the eve of Dec 31st I began to feel short of breath and after some coaching and yelling I was convinced to go to the ER. I knew what was wrong, but was still in denial.
If you wanna do a little research about Pulmonary Embolism's your more than welcome to. But the awful reality of it is that if left untreated, approximately one third of patients who survive an initial PE die of a future embolic episode. I was treated thankfully, and having the support network I do to call me and send me text messages threatening to kick my ass if I don't go, is what I credit for saving me. The main focus of my doctors now has turned to finding the cause of all these embolism's rather than just treating them.
Pulmonary Embolism's aren't a disease in and of themselves. Rather, it is an often fatal complication of another underlying condition. Since I haven't been immobilized for an extended period of time its pretty safe to assume that there's something congenital causing these suckers. Over the next few weeks I will be feeding the blood thirsty vampires and injected with contrast that'll make me illuminate in the dark in an attempt to find the underlying cause of all this crap.
Oddly enough, I specifically requested New Years eve off so I could enjoy myself and not have to be stuck waiting in triage with some drunk who fell down. Instead... I was beside the drunks waving at my fellow colleagues bringing 'em in.
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