My heart is aching for Las Vegas right now. I have a few friends there now who are clogging up my Facebook feed with their horrible, terrible, good-for-nothing photos. And by that I mean, I hate them and I'm so terribly jealous.
Even though my only reason for going to Vegas isn't an option until June:
Bonjour, Céline. Come back to Vegas soon, k? I need something to look forward to.
You would think on a semi-good news day such as today (ps fuck St Patty's), I would be in better spirits. But alas, the bad news bears (aka Dr Stern) called yesterday with something I had been half expecting for a while now.
My bicarb had dropped even lower. She had to consult a nephrologist (seriously, it's like I'm collecting specialists now) who suggested I come in for an arterial blood gas (ABG) test. They're going to stick me in my wrist and check my blood pH to see exactly how fucked I am.
Doc says she wants to do everything she can to keep me on the Diamox, but apparently this situation is bad. Bad, bad, bad. In my frustration (and stupidity) I forgot to mention the headaches, and the fact that I'm a few days away from running out of Lasix. SHIT GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKER.
Things are so much better in Vegas...
248.5 FTW? I can't even be happy about that right now.
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