Self Diagnosis

This morning Miss J observed, "You're Katie without all the Katieness. You're not up. You're down a couple of notches. Are you all right?"

My answer was just to shrug and say, "I guess."

The truth is, I feel very, very weird.

It started this past weekend with all my crazy mood swings. Come Monday I was definitely down and grumpy. Coupled with severe cramps and aches, I assumed it was part of that lovely time of the month. But then Tuesday evening brought on severe anxiety and worse, the onset of nausea. Before bed I took some Pepto Bismo and hoped for the best. Falling asleep was difficult as I kept feeling sweaty one second and then freezing cold the next. Vaguely, as I drifted off to sleep, I thought that I had a fever. I went on to dream of being in a clean white hospital being tended for by a tall comforting man. I woke in the middle of the night feeling cool, calm, and dry. I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

When I woke up yesterday morning I felt like hot death. My nausea was back with full force. I felt light headed and dizzy, cold and clammy. And it felt like someone was jamming a rusty screwdriver into my forehead repeatedly. I went to the bathroom, where I discovered that the Pepto Bismo had turned my tongue black, something that initially my brain didn't connect and caused me some slight panic, seeing my tongue all black for apparently no reason.

I felt so sick and awful, even vomiting a little bit. And stupidly, I went into work, clutching a bottle of ginger ale. But even I knew it was retarded. I saw my boss and told her, essentially, "I feel like ass' ass, I'm completing XYZ and if I don't feel better afterwards I'm going home." And she said, "Forget XYZ, go home now if you don't feel well." Considering that in the 3 years I've been here I've only ever taken 1 sick day, I decided she was right. I sat for awhile trying to get some work done anyway, but between the pulsing headache, the continuous nausea, and the slight stars I was seeing, I wasn't getting anything done. I gave up. Because I am a complete ninny, I took home a copy of the guide, thinking I would work on it later when I was feeling better.

I went home and collapsed on the couch. And truthfully, I don't remember much about this time, except that it felt very long waiting for one minute to pass and the next to begin. Eventually Mike came down stairs and asked if I was sick. Somehow it was 2:30 in the afternoon, and I felt a loss of time because I know I hadn't slept, but I have no idea where those two hours went. I went upstairs to bed at his suggestion and then I did sleep, a deep long sleep that lasted 4 and half hours. When I finally woke up, I felt better. My headache was still lingering, but my nausea was almost completely gone. I was still wary of food, so I settled in on the couch with some more ginger ale and the UK version of The Office on DVD. Ricky Gervais and Martin Freeman -- they'll cure what ails you. By then I felt well enough to try eating something, but nothing seemed appealing. Eventually I settled on some corn flakes, which stayed down. I made Mike sit through the Lost season finale (a separate post will be needed for that) during which I confessed I was worried about going to bed and not being able to sleep since I had slept so long in the afternoon. Mike promised me he had good drugs that would help me get to sleep should I need them -- one of the nice things about having a roommate who is a paramedic. It turns out that I didn't need them. As the 11 o'clock news was coming on I could feel my eyes getting heavy. I went to bed and slept the entire night through.

Today only slight remnants of my headache remain, nothing I can't live through with a couple Advil, and some stiffness in my muscles. I also feel a bit tired and washed out, sort of like I've been through the ringer. And while I don't feel nauseous anymore, I don't really feel like eating either.

Tammi tried explaining it as my body catching up to all the crap I've been through all year, pointing out that hardly a weekend goes by where I don't have plans coming out the wazzoo. And she's not wrong. However, in my hypochondriac "you're not dying you just can't think of anything better to do" way, I've searched the internet and come up with another diagnosis.

I've just had my first migraine.

I've always sort of thought as migraines as nothing more than severe headaches, with sensitivity to light. Since the light wasn't bothering me, I didn't think this was a migraine. And since I'd never had one before I didn't realize how rotten they were and how long they can last.

This migraine brought into sharp relief that I need to take better care of myself. Because on one hand, Tammi’s right. I have run myself ragged this year. But more than that, I haven’t been to the doctor in close to seven years.

Seven. Years.

I’m so like my father sometimes, it’s scary. Going in for “just a check up” seems silly, and if I’m not seriously ill, why bother? So the last time I was in a doctor’s office was for my mandatory hepatitis shot for college.

Recently, my aunt was diagnosed with some thyroid problems. My grandmother, my great grandmother, my great aunts and my cousins all have thyroid issues. This is something that is hereditary, and more prevalent in females. Looking it up on Web MD, some of the symptoms are weight gain, mood swings, fatigue, and migraines. There are also symptoms that I don’t have, such as yellowish skin, thinning hair, and memory problems.

I’m probably projecting some of this, being a hypochondriac. Most likely I’m fine. And even if I do have these thyroid problems, it’s nothing that can’t be treated and handled with some medication.

In either case, I think it’s time to make an appointment.

UPDATE: I am feeling much, much better. A doctor's appointment has been made, regardless. And since my mother just sprang the news on me that thyroid problems also run on her side of the family it's more important than ever to get that checked out, just for safety's sake.