Well, I went to my Dr. appt at 3:30 on Thursday. My BP and heart rate were still high, so he decided to do a quick EKG. I don't think it's a good sign when you're sitting IN your Dr's office, surrounded by millions of dollars worth of medical equipment, dozens of people with medical degrees, etc., and he tells you to "sit tight, because I'm calling the paramedics". AAAUUGHH!! WHAT?!
So, long story short, I spent 24 hours in the cardiac unit being poked, prodded, injected with who-knows-what that would probably set off national alarms if I weren't in the Nuclear Medicine unit...to find out that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH MY HEART.
After telling my story to dozens of nurses and doctors, I can tell you at least two of them told me that they DO NOT LIKE EFFEXOR. Wow.
So, now what? I've been off the Venlafaxine since Tuesday. Last night, for the first time in weeks, I slept. Twelve hours. (I heart Ativan!) My arms look like I've been shooting up for a while. It took 5 tries to get an IV started, and the bruises and swelling are about the size of silver dollars at each injection site.
I'm supposedly fine, but having to lay down for 15 minutes after taking a shower and getting dressed is not fine to me. At 80, maybe, but not 42.
So, my little journey has taken a turn.
Hang on, folks, it's going to be an interesting ride.