Oh no you didn’t. You picked the wrong girl to eff with. (Trying to clean up my language, we’ll see how long this lasts)…
So, last Monday, the crease of my right arm (above my elbow) felt sore and achey. Didn’t think much of it since I’m a busy (and clumsy) girl. Tuesday, it was achey, slightly swollen, and also red and hot to touch. My thoughts were: blood clot, cellulitis, lymphedema. I decided to call Pluta. They did not seem very concerned. I had an upcoming appointment on Thursday and “worst case scenario, it’s a blood clot, so we can order an ultrasound on Thursday if it’s still swollen then”. Fine. I asked if I should wear my lymphedema sleeve just in case, they said that wasn’t a bad idea. So I did. And I slept in it. (Apparently you are not supposed to do that. Oops). Wednesday morning, I woke up, looked at my arm, and then noticed that my hand looked a little bit puffy. And this began the longest-feeling state of panic in my whole life. Okay, maybe not my whole life, but in recent days.
Long story short, I called Pluta 4 times, waited around for them to call me back, called my primary, finally said screw this waiting shit and went to the ED, waited for 5 hours with my mom, made friends with the triage nurse, got a room, (my three best friends brought me food and ❤️), had an ultrasound (unanticipated PTSD kicked in-brought be back to diagnostic ultrasound), had bloodwork, and at 10pm, I was discharged with no answer other than “edema”.<<<<<<<
ave lymphedema, a permanent, incurable, disfiguring, and not-at-all understood condition.
Stay tuned. If I do actually have it, you can expect my potty mouth to kick back in full swing.