I’m writing this after what seemed like another endless day at the doctor’s. My cardiologist and my urologist (both specialists I never thought I would own—whatever happened to my robust health?) reside in the same building, so I made my appointments adjacent so as to minimize the wash-up-get-dressed-and-drive routine. I first landed at the cardiologist’s office on the 4th floor at 12:30 for a 1:00 appointment.

The good news is, I dropped 15 pounds of water weight in the past week since my epic search last Thursday for a CT-scanner to bear my load. I’m attributing that directly to the combination of massage gun and daily donning of the Beltwell velcro compression leggings. Also, my blood pressure, inexplicably high in the hospital (164 over 92) has returned to a more rational rate of 134/70.

The bad news is that according to my EKG, I’m still in AFib. Is that how you say it? I have atrial fibrillation? Anyway, apparently the top left portion of my heart is still acting like a flibbertigibbet, which would explain some of the tiredness and shortness of breath I’ve been experiencing. It’s sometimes hard to distinguish, because since the onset of lipoedema and lymphedema I am always tired, and often short of breath simply from hauling myself around, but it’s been extra debilitating lately and the prognosis is that my heart isn’t doing its job. So, I’m going to be going to the hospital (outpatient) for electrical cardioversion, which is a fancy way of saying that they give you IV sedation, then put patches on your chest and back and deliver a brief electric shock to your heart, which resets your heart rhythm.

I am totally creeped out by the very idea of this, but apparently there is a 90 percent success rate (although AFib may subsequently recur in some), and I am an especially good prospect in that the AFib is recent and probably caused by the stress my body experienced during the spasming incident when my bladder was harboring so much infection, rather than being a naturally occurring condition. But it’s still scary.

After my information-gathering on the 4th floor, I proceeded upstairs to the 7th for the removal of the stent from my bladder. I have been looking forward to this, because at a couple of weeks after installation it ceases to be a force for good (holding things open) and begins to be a force for irritation. I won’t describe the procedure, because I’m squeamish and also easily embarrassed about bodily functions, but although not too painful, it’s certainly not a pleasant experience, and it lasts an interminable five minutes that feels a lot longer! Anyway, it’s out; I got a one-capsule super-antibiotic to make sure the procedure itself didn’t give me any problems; and I revisit in a month for a follow-up discussion, after having some lab work that will determine what kind of kidney stones I am creating and what I can do about that.

So, I have a couple of lab field trips and at least two more doctor visits in my immediate future. But for tonight I’m going to put my feet up, read my latest Harry Bosch novel, and ignore all of it until tomorrow morning, when I will do my daily routines and make my phone calls. Or maybe I will declare that it’s Friday and therefore a national holiday in the land of Melliott, and put off the calls until Monday, a much more businesslike day of the week…