A Word From Our Sponsor XII

Well my short lived affair with Midodrine is over.  I should have know that he was going to be trouble with all the effort it took to arrange our first date.  High maintenance, and a bastard to boot.  It was all about him from day one. 

Our days together went pretty much like this:

"Take me now Michelle" (lifting my eyelids and sticking his face 2cm from mine).
"Well I really don't want to.  I'm tired and I want to sleep in".
"Take me now (pout). Take me now, take me now, take me NOW"
"Okay. Okay.  I'm getting up.  Geez Louise take a chill pill".
"Take me now". (stamping feet and pouting like a two-year-old).
"All right I've taken you.  Will you shut up and leave me alone, I'm tired".
"You can't lie down.  You have to stay up and spend time with me".
"Listen buddy I don't really want to do that".
"Well I'm going to scream in your ear, poke you in the eye and jump up and down on your chest if you lie back down.  In fact I'm going to do that anyway cause I find it fun".
"Okay okay.  Can I lie down in a little while"?
"Nope.  Have you seen that episode of Buffy with the creepy floating Gentlemen? Remember, I'll scream.  Oh, and in four hours you have to take me again.  And then again four hours after that.  It's all about me lady".
"I don't think this relationship is going last".
"I don't care.
"You're a bastard Midodrine.  Have you heard of Lorena Bobbitt?"

So after a delightful pain-filled trial I have kicked him to the kerb.  He and Mestinon can go hang out together.  No doubt they'll have their own reality show soon, The Bastard Bachelors, complete with smarmy host, and a group of desperate, fame-hungry, vapid, peroxided, 20-somethings vying for their attentions.  Good luck ladies. 

Since I gave him the "It is you. Not me" speech, I've been walking round the house singing Paul Simon's, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.



Now as happy as I am to be out of such a bad relationship, it has left me in the middle of no-man's land. My cardio can no longer suggest any new meds to try.  I knew it wasn't going to be a good appointment when I was lying on the bed in her office and she looked at my legs and went "Hmmmmm" and did her "Oh Shit" face.  Apparently if Midodrine was going to work my legs would no nolonger resembles those of the rotund, purple McDonald's character Grimace.  After much hmmmming and scratching her head, she actually leaned back in her chair and said "I really don't know where to go from here".

Woo Hoo just what you want to hear from your specialist.  She did give me some huge insights for my money though.

• I'm really ill (no shit Sherlock).

• My venous system in shot (ahhh yeah)

• There's no doubt I have dysatonomia (didn't we figure this out a couple of years ago).

• I don't fit into any of the standard sub-types (again, didn't we establish that a couple of years ago?).

• I have "Michelle's disease' (see above parentheses).

• I don't respond well to the available meds (Duh!).

• I'm not a nutter (parentheses people).

$120 well spent I say.  She did say if I (who knew I'm an autonomic/cardiac specialist?) can come up with any ideas she's happy to write a referral.   There are a couple of long shots that potentially may be of use, which I'll get into if they come about.  But I'm pretty sure from the look on her face that my chances of success are about as good as my chances of actually becoming Heidi Klum.  I know she cares, is frustrated, and is trying her best, but I'm pretty sure a "Dear John" letter is on it's way to my door.

After many hours of internet procrastination/research I did run across one med that might just be worth a try.  I wonder if my cardio will write a script?

What do you think?

Cheers
Michelle :)

Okay this is a late addition but I only just saw it on a friends FB page and I feel it may be the solution I've been looking for.