So there’s a trope in romance called the Magic Penis aka: Sex Cures All. The basics being: a main character (usually female) has a physical or mental health condition that she suffers terribly from, but as soon as she has sex with the love interest (usually a guy) she’s suddenly cured or the issue is no longer so terrible. The magic penis trope is NOT a good one to have in a book. It diminishes very real illnesses.
But apparently Mr. V has a magic penis. I haven’t been feeling sexy for weeks thanks to widespread pain, but since he and I were intimate I’ve had zero pain, zero stiffness, zero aches or feelings of breathlessness. I’ve still been experiencing drops in my blood pressure unexpectedly, but those are entirely manageable when I’m not bedridden from pain.
The rheumatologist I saw didn’t have any answers for me, either. She doesn’t think my symptoms are signs of something auto-immune, her assessment of my anxiety puts me in the top 10% of all patients she’s ever seen, and she doesn’t even think I have Reynauds. Which leaves me, not only without an answer for the blood pressure, but also lacking in management of my previous diagnosies.
Suffice to say I didn’t have an excellent evening.
So my next steps include an appointment with a neurologist (August) and a cardiologist (tbd).
At this point I have no idea what I’m dealing with or how to mitigate it. For the moment, my pain is gone, but since I don’t know what triggered it to flare up, it could come back at any time. At least now I have a treatment to try when it does. XD.
My blood pressure issue is affecting my day-to-day life. I have to stop what I’m doing to lay down periodically throughout the day, a situation I can only manage because I don’t hold a normal office or retail job.
And to top everything off, Mr. V and I are prepping to buy a car this weekend, because life doesn’t stop when you’re broken.
So that’s the latest!