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My latest medical news is a festering, pustulent boil on the mass of putrid stinking suckage that undulates loathesomely before me. No, I don't have leprosy. I went to the cardiologist today, and he told me about the latest echocardiogram. He was *supposed* to say, "Boy, that implant sure looks good. Can't possibly be causing more strokes or TIAs." What he *actually* said was that the implant is "allowing some communication" between the sides of my heart. This means blood is still leaking around the damn thing. This means clots can sidle past it, too. I was very quietly and politely livid. This wonderful little high-tech device was supposed to *fix* things. A year ago, all the specialists cut me loose because things looked *so* good. Now, suddenly, I'm busted again. Granted, not like I was before, but not really fixable, without doing damage to my otherwise-healthy heart. I am now on both Plavix and coumadin. Yuck. I have another trans-esophageal echocardiogram coming up over spring break (this involves a game called "swallow the transponder.") The guy doing it will be one of the cardio practice's patch guys (they didn't have any in 2003, when I got mine), so he should be able to tell me what my options are. Still have to go see the neurologist on Wednesday. I'll get MRI results there. Maybe he'll tell me my brain is now the size of a raisin, or infested with brain chiggers. Who knows? Damn. Damn. Damn. |
 
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Son of Suckage