A Short and Salty Update

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a medical issue I was experiencing. (I password protected the post because I wanted to err on the side of caution re disclosure of specific health-related information. If you want to access it, shoot me a message.) At the time, a full resolution seemed imminent, and I was proud of how I’d both practically and emotionally dealt with a stress-inducing situation.

But since it wasn’t a thing squarely in the past, there remained traces of the annoying sense of “what if?” that makes it its mission to never leave me alone (thanks, anxiety disorder!). I tried to push those thoughts to the back of mind. I was, after all, doing everything I could, and several blood tests in a row had confirmed that my efforts hadn’t been in vain. Still, prematurely resting on my laurels ain’t something I’m one to do.

After a second appointment at a speciality clinic, I now feel entitled to lounge on those laurels. Sprawl on them, even. With a bag of chips (’cause sodium!), an over-the-top mocktail, and a for-fun-only book purchased to reward myself for a job well done.

The visit was short and … salty? Within a few minutes, the doctor had confirmed what I’d already sensed—that everything’s on the right track, more or less OK, even—and that I don’t need follow-up unless something changes. We’ll keep monitoring, but less frequently.

I’m reporting this not so much to pat myself on the back, though I’m doing that because I just can’t help myself, as to reiterate how amazing it feels to be able to tackle stuff head on with little assistance from others. For years, I was too ill to take full responsibility for my health care. Turns out that near-constant seizures don’t make for the clearest mind, and I didn’t trust myself to keep track of everything there was to keep track of.

Things are different now. Slowly but surely, they keep getting better.