It's just one of those days...

I woke up this morning with a pretty severe pain on the right side of my chest every time I took a deep breath. After I figured out it probably wasn't a pulled muscle (because let's be honest, I've not done ANYTHING lately that could have resulted in a pulled muscle) I kinda started freaking out a little bit and had the thought "Oh God, what if it's lung cancer?! I KNEW I was going to kill myself by smoking!" I've cut down to about 2 cigs a day, but still. The damage is already done from the 11 years I smoked nearly a pack a day.

So I made a doctor's appointment. I told my boss my lung cancer fears. He (who is a lung cancer survivor and now only has one lung because of his ordeal) assured me that maybe they'd only have to take out one lung and that then I'd get a morphine drip and "that's the good shit".

"I don't like morphine - it makes me hallucinate," I replied. I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before, because this is the sort of non-work-related shit we talk about often in our little HR's Worst Nightmare office.

"Morphine's great when it's prescribed to you and you actually need it," was his smart-assed retort.

"Fuck You Boss! The one time I had morphine, it WAS a drip, BECAUSE I'd just had surgery, so there!"

"Really?" He seemed incredulous. One of these days, we're going to have to have a heart to heart about how I may like to smot a little poke every now and then, but that's as daring as I'm willing to be with drugs, knowing my tendencies to REALLY like stuff a little too much.

So I headed off to the doctor. Good news #1 - since the last time I was in their office a year and a half ago, I've dropped 14 lbs. YAY. Dr. R was super impressed with my Sudoku skills, and when I told him I'd greatly reduced the number of cigs and the amount of pot I was smoking, I didn't get a "I think you have a substance abuse problem" and "what are you trying to escape" speech. Always a plus, i think. :)

He said my lungs sounded great - Good news #2. He pressed on my abdomen just below my ribcage and had me take a big breath, and i almost came up off the table it hurt so bad.

"Ah. Maybe your gallbladder," Dr. R seems pleased with himself. "Now let's figure out the best way to spend your dollars getting you well."

"Let's do it all. I've got great insurance and I never use it, so let's just do whatever needs to be done to make this go away." It's true. I pay a lot of money every week to guarantee that if and when some medical situation does arise, I can get the best possible care without it costing me an arm and a leg on top of my payroll deducted premiums.

He ordered bloodwork, had me pee in a cup, ordered a chest x-ray (Good news #3 - i always like it when a doctor is willing to do tests to make sure I'm not falling apart or dying of lung cancer), and scheduled me for an ultrasound tomorrow morning. He gave me a script for phenergan, because apparently gallbladder issues can bring on nausea and he didn't want me getting sick this weekend with no relief.

I'm sure everything is fine. Jimi's being super attentive and sweet, (even more than usual, if you can believe it) and I love him for that.

I'd love to have a smoke, but man, after the thoughts that raced through my head this morning when I realized it hurt to breath, I can't bring myself to go out on the porch and light one up. Maybe this will be the catalyst I need to quit? Oh, let's hope so.