Ain't no tuition for having no ambition, and ain't no loans for sittin' at home

Listening to rap makes me write papers faster. Who knew?

Get to Know Your Serotonin Representatives

There comes a time in every girl's life when she asks herself: "How well do I really know my circulatory and nervous systems?"

This usually occurs after an episode of syncope, as it did for me, and it led me to physician after physician seeking answers. this is because, as it turned out, I didn't really know my circulatory or nervous systems at all. Here I had been, thinking that my fainting spells were "out of character" for them, when really it was them finally manifesting their underlying character. It had been there all along.

With every new pronouncement of pathology that gets filed away in my ever-expanding medical record, I get to experience that strange collision of frustration ,worry, fear, bafflement, optimism and doubt that is the moment of diagnosis.

And so, upon reflection, things really aren't so bad after all.

I Got Rhythm

You (if there is a "you" anymore for this blog) will not likely be surprised to learn that I have returned to blogging only because I am stuck at home. You will also likely assume that I am stuck at home because of medical complications. As it happens, you are right.

Postural tachycardia syndrome (POTS) and neurally mediated hypotension (NMH) are at it again, those rascally disorders responsible for such hilarious hijinks as "In the ER Again" and "Passed Out on the Pavement"! They're back and better than ever, this time sending me home from college early with incompletes in all of my classes. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm used to this stuff! I was expelled from my high school because of this stuff. I spent a year not leaving my house because of this stuff. I went to community college for a year because of this stuff. This stuff didn't jump out from behind the shrubbery and surprise me one foggy evening.

Excluding the element of surprise, though, does not make POTS and NMH significantly more manageable. For whatever reason, no matter how many times I explain to the paramedic that I KNOW what's wrong with me, and I DON'T need to go to the hospital, they never seem to trust the trembling eighteen year-old that is lying on the floor of the classroom that they arrived to find unconscious and convulsing. Go figure.

What all of this means, and what I'm getting to, is that I'm back and at it again-- new medications! After altering the dosage of something I'm already on (Florinef), it has been determined that new and different classes of medications will be required to treat my symptoms. That's where Norpace comes in.

Norpace is an antiarrhythmic drug that works by blocking certain signals to the heart that may cause it to beat abnormally fast. It's kind of an intense drug, usually administered in hospitals to patients with life-threatening ventrical tachycardia. It is not recommended for minor conditions. It is not designed to treat the conditions that I posses. It can (rarely) cause congestive heart failure since it, you know, is messing with the heart and its beating. Naturally, I am totally excited to start this medication.

I mean it!I am! Even though new drugs often result in my inability to eat solid foods, sleep, and walk around the house, I am absolutely, legitimately excited to start messing with meds again. In a strange way, I really do enjoy seeing my doctors at Hopkins. Dr. Peter Rowe (my cardiologist) is very possibly the most brilliant and kind physician I have ever had the privilege of working with, not to mention his delightfully sharp wit. I end up feeling very honored to be seen by a doctor who spends his time researching, lecturing, and practicing on some of the most interesting and complicated medical cases in the country. It is even more exciting for me to be prescribed drugs whose effects on me may assist his research and understanding of medicine. I feel terribly important. And, as they always say, self-importance is the best medicine.

Kind of.

I'm basically a doctor

So. If you have a fever and a cool, damp cloth just isn't cutting it, I recommend slathering yourself in peppermint oil lotion. Then you will be cool and tingly.

BONUS! The scent of peppermint is good for nausea!

Today is one of those days where I don't really have anything to blog about. It also happens to be one of those days when I nothing better to do than blog.

I did spend the last twenty or so minutes myspacing out. Now, I don't have a myspace,nor do I particularly like them, but I've found the website a useful tool for research. I look up a town that I will probably be living in next year, such as Catonsville, and find high school/college age students that live in or are from the area. It is through this research that I have decided that I hate Ellicott City. I hate Catonsville less, but don't get me wrong, it still sucks. You see, Catonsville is the sort of small town that isn't small. It's got its historic small town feel, with a downtown area, (which I must say was better than Ellicott City's historic downtown, which had only hippie shops and yuppie shops) but was still a bit "quaint" for my liking. Given, I'll take Catonsville quaint-ness over Columbian sprawl, but I still find it irritating.

Anyway, Catonsville highschooloers: Are they cool? This is what I'm struggling with. I mean, they have myspaces, wich already lame-ifys them, but that aside, would I like them? I'm sure that if I saw some of my current friends' myspaces that I would like them less, but it is some indicator of personality and interst...The Catonsville kids altoghether seem to be an artsier, more offbeat crowd than Ellicott City, but I've got some problems with them. I'm going to make you a list describing the Catonsville youth, as per Myspace. Draw your own conclusions.

1. Every Catonsville myspace that I saw had Harry Potter listed under its "Favorite Books".

2. There are self-described "theatre kids"...

3. There was this, which displays a disturbing amount of town pride, but was actually kind of funny. It even made me like Catonsville for a minute there...

4. There were far fewer trying-to-look-sexy/beauty/airbrushed fifteen-year-old type profile pictures.

5. There were far fewer drunken/polo-wearing/asshole-looking/party-at-John's house-'cause-his-dad-has-a-full-bar-in-his-basement-and-we-can-totally-get-some-chicks-drunk-and-hook-up-with-them pictures.

6. There were less myspaces.

So overall, Catonsville is "Less Up Its Own Ass than Towson" (a suburb we looked at but was too far away and sucked)but still not great.