Yesterday was the day of three appointments: 10 a.m. endocrinologist, 11:45 nephrologist, and a 3 p.m. psychiatrist (for a consult).
Yesterday was also my 46th birthday.
Sunny and pleasant, not too hot, not too humid. Ideal walking weather. Plenty of opportunity for me to boost my seratonin!
First appointment of the day was with my beloved endocrinologist, of whom I see every three months. These appointments are about as thorough as thorough gets. He quipped to me, "Look, your glands belong to me, and the rest of you? Yeah, that also belongs to me, too." He takes comprehensive notes about everything, not just glandular. Mood, migraines, pain, everything is taken into consideration and discussed.
He provided me with my copy of my most-recent blood tests, and we discussed anything/everything that was flagged. Despite some things being high, they were inconsequential, and all things look good. There were a few things I need to follow up on, and one of which would be addressed at the nephrologist an hour later.
He gave me the good news that the fatty liver syndrome no doubt has reversed itself given my weight loss, and that I shouldn't be so worried about having a cocktail, especially given I use it for pain management, as nothing else really helps as effectively.
What I appreciate most about my endocrinologist is that he treats me as a whole person, not just from a glandular standpoint, and also doesn't treat me like a number. I am not a sheep. I am not one of a herd. And I guess it also helps that I read up on whatever syndromes/issues I have, to become more educated, to ask more questions, and help my doctor give me the best care I need.
He gave me high praise. "You're bright. You've got it all together. You would have made a great doctor. You should give some thought about becoming a patient advocate." Now if only he could help me realize that goal!
Going to this office is like visiting family. I see him more regularly than I see my mom. I get a hug and a kiss from him and everyone wished me a happy birthday and I was off to my next appointment.
Next appointment was the nephrologist, who I originally sought out consultation over a year ago for that pesky proteinuria problem (which resolved itself with an adjustment in the amount of alpha lipoic acid I take). Even after doubling my ACE inhibitor, my bp is still a bit on the high side (high side of normal, but not HIGH HIGH), and I wanted to discuss the possibility of a diuretic. I mentioned aldactone, and he wanted to know why that one in particular. My reasons were it's a potassium sparing diuretic and also has magical anti-androgenic properties, but given the ACE is potassium sparing, perhaps another option? He thought the discussion was well thought out and VALID, and split the difference and wrote up an Rx for an aldactone/HCTZ hybrid. I should come back in a month to see how I'm responding to it. I'll be glad to get my bp better managed, as it will no doubt help with my headaches and moods, and the water pill will probably shed a few pesky pounds that have been resistant to drop. Again, I love my nephrologist. He comes into the exam room, is friendly, engaging, and receptive to my concerns. What else could one want from a doc?
The first two appointments were on the upper east side 92/Park, and my third appointment was several hours later on the west side, near Columbus Circle. So there's that big ol' pesky park standing between me and where I need to be. I don't recall which bus I took, first one I saw, and all I really needed to do was traverse the park. I got off at the first stop (perhaps Central Park West?) and took on foot.
I walked south a few blocks, then made a right. Go one block, make a left. Walk south a few blocks, thinking about where I might want to go to lunch, as I knew there were PLENTY of truly great places to eat on the way. I was thinking of Thai, or French, and when I happened to notice HSB has an outlet there, I looked no further. I walked in. Without looking at the menu, I ordered a molagai podi and onion dosa. I washed up while I waited for my food, which of course, was delicious. And this was the first solid food I had all day, given I try to get weighed at the endocrinologist on an empty stomach.
From lunch, I continued on my path,walking a few blocks south, making a right, going one block, making a left, etc, until I found myself at Broadway and 60th, arriving 20 minutes early for my 3 p.m. I freshened up, hydrated, and sat peacefully crocheting until my time came.
I went to this appointment with the psychiatrist with the hopes that I could get tested for a chemical imbalance or find out if there's something wrong with my amygdala, which might be driving the melancholy. Sadly, they do not test for stuff like that. He asked every thorough and specific questions about my relationships with my parents, my siblings, what was it like growing up. I added in about how it took me until I was 40 to fully individuate, and how I feel I self-sabotage with my negative self-talk, and I feel all of this is interfering with the progress I've made so far.
Not to leave empty handed, the psychiatrist gave me this book and is going to discuss my situation with my psychotherapist, and see if we can change the direction of my therapy to include more cognitive stuff. Nothing more specific to add, and doubtful I'll be making a follow up visit, given I do not want meds, I just want to know WHAT THIS IS in specific terms, and I mean beyond the new diagnosis: MDD.
Once I finished up at the last appointment, I pinged the husband and let him know I was on foot, headed to Ippudo, a wee bit earlier than our plan. But I figured I'd be able to stop at a pub for a drink or a coffee shop for coffee while I waited for my husband to arrive. Only problem is, most of the bars on that block don't open until 5 p.m.
So I walked out to 9th, and found a place where I could sit inside, where I pretty much inhaled a vodka tonic, while watching Dr. Oz on the bar t.v., reading the subtitles, and thinking exactly how full of shit that quack is. Looking at the time, I still had about a half hour before the husband arrived, so I ordered up what the lady next to me was having: a watermelon margarita, and didn't even consider whether or not the vodka and tequila would play nice in my belly. I was about halfway through my margarita and thought I'd have some time to enjoy the buzz (and enjoy my inability to feel my feet or my face) for a little while, when I got a text that the husband was at Ippudo waiting for me.
I am not sure how I made it to the restaurant, but I did, without falling, without being mugged, attacked, etc. So I guess I did not appear like a wounded gazelle on the Serengheti Plains. Ippudo was lovely, and everything I anticipated it to be. We ordered their most popular bowl of ramen, and we both ordered cocktails (more booze!). Husband got something lovely with lychee in it (a fave of mine), and I opted for something they have never encountered before: A plum wine spritzer. But to them, it amounted to plum wine over rocks with a splash of soda water. It surprised me in that it tasted like bourbon. Tasty. Good meal. The place was chock full of cacaphony. Blissed out on food, booze, and being with my husband.
And in the blink of a bleary eye, one cab ride to Grand Central, and it was, just about, all over.
When we arrived back at our home train station, and headed to the parking lot, there was a guy who appeared either stoned or drunk, or perhaps just weary from work, leaning on his beat up hooptie, saw us walking into the lot. I guess both of us looked truly at ease with each other, and our arms were linked. As we approached him and were passing him on our way to our own car, the guy remarked, "That's just beautiful. What you have together is beautiful. I hope to one day have that." I smiled and thanked him, and didn't have any reason to think the guy was anything other than sincere. My husband, however, thought we were about to be mugged. The guy wasn't aggressive or even approaching us. I just thought he was being nice, and still do think that. Sometimes people have a way of surprising you, if you let them.
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