But That's All History

Nothing is simple anymore.

I have had a raging sinus infection for several days. RAGING. I felt so incredibly bad that I decided to start planning my funeral, because I was (and still am, actually) convinced that I wasn't going to pull through. So far, I have lined up pall bearers, several soloists, including one on bagpipes, a eulogist, what I presume will be an entirely inappropriate poem, and an offer to write my obituary, which the writer promises will include my failed attempt at using a nettie pot. And the nettie pot incident can be blamed on my daughter, who made me watch a tutorial on YouTube about how to use it but failed to read the part of the directions that said not to attempt if BOTH NOSTRILS ARE COMPLETELY CLOGGED.

Yeah, told you so.

I finally broke down and made an appointment with the nurse practitioner in my primary care physician's office (that's fancy talk for going to my friend Cindy's office and seeing the nurse practitioner because Cindy doesn't go in on Mondays). 

Because it had been several years since I had visited the office, and quite possibly also because since then, the old office blew away in the tornado, I had to fill out all new paperwork.

I was asked if I were on any medications.

Until six months ago, the answer to that would have been, "No." And that was always met with a bit of surprise by the asker. But  I was really very healthy. 

For this, I had to get my phone out and check my medication list that I save there. 

Then I was asked to list all surgeries and hospitalizations I had had.

(A word to those of you who have never had their medical records blown to kingdom come by a tornado: sit down some time with a clear mind and MAKE A LIST of all that information and keep it somewhere safe. You THINK you can remember all that stuff, but it's harder than it looks.)

Starting with getting my tonsils out at 7 (a sad story that I will have to share with you some time), I started ticking off c-sections and other lady part stuff. And that's where the list used to end.

Now I have to add "bilateral mastectomy with tram flap reconstruction" to the list. Words like that will garner you a double take, incidentally. When you add "hemorrhoidectomy" to the list, you get, "Wow, you've had quite a year."

I don't want to be one of those people with lists of medications and ailments a mile long. 

Yet, here I am. No. Freaking. Backsies.