Lab results

  • Cholesterol: Within normal range (thanks, Repatha)
  • Triglycerides: Still a little high, but not nearly as bad as they used to be (I’m guessing that them being a bit high means the doctor is still going to lecture me)
  • Blood glucose: 102mg/dL, which is technically a little high because of the law of round numbers, but c'mon
  • A1C: 6.0, which is right in the middle of the “pre-diabetic” range, which means I’m going to get a lecture about that too
  • MCH: 25.6pg, indicating I might be slightly anemic

Anyway it’s pretty clear that my home glucosimeter needs to be recalibrated or replaced.

Update: Doctor’s office left a voicemail which was surprisingly lecture-free. They just told me the same thing I wrote above and said there wasn’t really any change to make for now.

The joys of being alive


So, yesterday I had my 6-month followup with the cardiologist regarding the heart-related stuff and got the usual litany of obnoxious hand-wringing around my labs (evne though they were now very out-of-date) and yet another lecture about lipids and triglycerides, which, yes, this is why I am seeing you. Meh.

Anyway, the upshot of this is that he did order new labs for me (which I have no issue with, of course, just with how he talked about ordering them), and this morning I figured I’d go get them done. And before doing them I figured I’d use my OTC blood glucose meter to get an idea of what to expect with the blood sugar results.

It came back with 296 mg/dL.

That is… high.

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Ah, yes, sick again


A couple weeks ago I traveled to Albuquerque to visit my family, and now I’m sick with some fun respiratory gunk. It may or may not be COVID (again). Hard to tell at this point. So far it’s at least not as bad as when I got it a year ago. But I’d still rather not be having it at all, y'know?

Anyway I think air travel is Bad, Actually.

Annoyingly this got in the way of all of my pride plans; I was meant to perform with the choir at Trans Pride Seattle last night, and today I was going to go to brunch with friends, and even if I didn’t feel like complete ass I also wouldn’t want to spread this crud to anyone else.

Come to think of it, I can’t recall any time in recent history that I traveled by airplane and didn’t end up getting sick shortly after. Like, even pre-COVID, it was pretty much a given that any time I traveled for work or whatever I’d end up with some awful crud.

I guess in more positive health news, there’s some promising research into new fibromyalgia meds, and also some pretty interesting advances in understanding what fibromyalgia even is and what treatments might help with the underlying issues. So that’s hopeful, at least. Solving fibro pain wouldn’t fix all of my problems but it’d at least make it easier for me to do the things I want to be doing.



So it turns out I didn’t have anything to worrry about. The angiogram showed no blockage whatsoever and hopefully this means I’ll stop having heart-concern panic attacks. No angioplasty, no stent, etc.

The most annoying thing right now is I’m not allowed to use my right hand until Sunday, and also cannot shower until then, since that could potentially cause a hematoma or arterial rupture in my right wrist artery (which is where they inserted the probe). So I’ll be stinky tomorrow, and also I can’t do any of my fun activities. At least I have a lot of prepared foods available.

The whole experience wasn’t too bad. The entire team felt supportive and friendly, and we joked around a lot during the whole thing. During the procedure I was given a small dose of midazolam, which helped me to relax, but wasn’t enough to get an amnesiac effect, so I remember the whole thing. The only really painful bit was at the very end when my forearm started to spasm while the probe was still inserted.

Also I asked for souvenir pictures but I think they thought I was joking. Maybe I’ll get them on MyChart? I dunno. It’ll go nicely next to my esophogeal endoscopy photo from when I was having stomach problems a decade ago.

They seemed to be really surprised that I understood most of the medical terminology and that they didn’t need to coddle me or the like. One of the consent forms asked me to write, in my own words, what I thought was going to happen and I wrote “angiogram w/ potential angioplasty” and this was really surprising to them.

Anyway afterwards I got hospital food for lunch. I ordered the salmon. It was pretty okay. Hard to eat one-handed though.

Anxiety, yesterday and tomorrow


Last night I had to drive to choir practice myself, and I had a panic attack on the way. I managed to push through it and felt fine when I got there. So of course I had another panic attack on the way home, because my brain decided that no, proof of being able to drive safely is NOT enough anymore to sustain a lack of anxiety when driving.

Tomorrow I am going in for an angiogram and potential angioplasty (depending on what it turns up). The procedure itself is pretty straightforward and primarily preventative; non-invasive imaging was inconclusive as to how much arterial blockage I have (if any), and I seem to have an arterial abnormality that makes imaging difficult. So it is out of an abundance of caution that I am getting the angiogram, and if any blockage is found it will be mitigated, and perhaps a stent will be installed as well (although my dad also has an arterial abnormality which made a stent installation impossible for him when he went through a similar thing, in a much more emergent situation).

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Doctors, please listen


I am in chronic pain. I have always been in some amount of pain. It’s become increasingly unbearable over the past 25 years. It’s not just all in my head.

I have always been overweight. I have always had high cholesterol. I have always had high triglycerides. No amount of chiding me about “diet” and “exercise” will change that. I am not lying to you about my dietary habits. I am not constantly shoveling down huge quantities of fast food. I exercise when I can, as much as I can. I mostly cook for myself, and I cook healthy foods.

The thing I eat the most of is salad!

There is probably a link between high triglycerides and fibromyalgia. There is a lot of evidence supporting that. But correlation is not causation. Given my lifestyle and dietary habits it seems unlikely that it’s the triglycerides causing the fibromyalgia. It’s probably the other way around, or there’s a common cause to both that has not yet been identified.

Treating me like a FUCKING CHILD WHO DOESN’T KNOW MY OWN BODY isn’t how to get me to feel better. Instead of just assuming that I don’t understand nutrition and don’t understand exercise and that I’m eating too much and drinking and smoking all the time, maybe. FUCKING. just FUCKING. LISTEN to me.

I promise that I am not lying about these things. I want to get better. It’s why I’m fucking coming to you.

While we’re at it, yes, I have sleep apnea of some sort, but three sleep studies have had conflicting results and either way, CPAP wasn’t helpful, and my most recent sleep study did not support the ongoing use of it. It wasn’t my choice to stop using it, it was AN ACTUAL FUCKING SLEEP DOCTOR who told me to stop using it and who stopped authorizing the refresh of the equipment. Which, you know. Requires a prescription. From a doctor. And I monitor my oxygen and heart rate most nights, and the metrics show that any breathing pauses are brief. And no I don’t want to be having them either! But chiding me for not using a CPAP that I’m not authorized to have isn’t. FUCKING. Helpful.

(And even if I did have obstructive apnea, most signs point to obstructive apnea causing weight gain, not the other way around.)

I am well aware that my lab results are troublesome. I am doing what I can. Don’t infantilize me and assume that I don’t understand that High Numbers Are Bad.

And yes I’ve tried statins and they just make me unable to move at all because of excruciating pain, and the same thing happened with fenofibrate. I’d be taking them if I could! I actually do want to get better! I am not making excuses! I am not being stubborn! It’s not like I have some sort of secret hatred of being on medication. Some people have a weird sense of pride about not taking meds, about seeing them as a failure. I don’t.

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