Jul. 10th, 2020

scrubjayspeaks: macro photograph of ladybug climbing a blade of grass (garden)
Welcome to the July edition of Pandemic Garden Club! Growing good things in strange times!

Anyone is welcome to comment with what they're growing right now, things they would like to try, problems they're encountering, and questions they have. Share resources, answer questions, shout encouragement.

As for myself...

Under the cut because photos... )
scrubjayspeaks: Town sign for (fictional) Lake Lewisia, showing icons of mountains and a lake with the letter L (Lake Lewisia)
She stood with hands on hips, surveying the wide stretch of dry, sun golden grasses next to the farmhouse, as well as the performers currently frolicking like children among the dirt and trees and sagging fence posts. "So I made all necessary excuses and rescheduling for the first four shows of the tour," she told Casey, having doubled back upon hearing the news of eir detour. An excellent and adaptable band manager, her critical eye cataloged space and resources even as she asked, "What kind of an audience do you think we could get out here?"

---

LL#553
scrubjayspeaks: photo of a toddler holding an orange tabby cat (baby Joyce)
Against all odds, I have obtained a referral to a cardiologist, which was the only reason I really cared about speaking to my GP today. He definitely did not want to give me this referral, but fuck him.

Here's the irony, though. I have been his patient for several years, since nearly the start of my whole "why the hell does everything hurt SO MUCH???" journey. And just about every time I see him, he tells me my blood pressure is too high. He has never offered any medication for it, even though both my parents have heart problems, including lifelong high BP in the case of my father, and are medicated. He has always just told me to lose weight. Which. Hm. We won't even get into that.

I have told him--and every other doctor I interact with--that my blood pressure always spikes when I see them. It's just a thing my body does under stress. My father has the exact same problem. I have told them my numbers at home are much better. They have never really believed me.

So in advance of this referral request, I started formally tracking my BP. It swings wildly from 104/80 to 145/80, from one day to the next. But the high numbers are pretty infrequent, actually. Like I told them, it's not that bad normally. But hey, data. Have data. I love data. I can drown y'all in data given half a chance.

His response? Oh. Huh. Your blood pressure is pretty good.

...

No shit, dude. I tried to tell you. I want to see a cardiologist because I'm on medication that can fuck up my heart. But also because, hey, you just spent years telling me my BP is a problem. Because you didn't believe me when I told you it was really just a stress response. (You should have seen the numbers I kicked back when I was in the urgent care in December. Seeing a doctor while actively VERY sick? Oh yeah, I was through the roof. I thought the poor guy treating me was going to faint.)

I just-- *hands*

For the next couple hours after the phone call, I had an adrenaline crash so bad, my legs were just water. Drenched in sweat. Trembling. Because yeah, I find doctors stressful. Funny thing, that. Can't imagine why. Can't imagine how it might affect me.

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scrubjayspeaks: photo of a toddler holding an orange tabby cat (Default)
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