What It Isn't

Way back when, the day I'd injured myself and I was sitting in the ER (which seems like a hundred years ago but was really only 6 weeks or so) the ER doctor told me, "We might not be able to find out what it is that caused you to pass out, but we can find out what it isn't."

In the ER I had a list of isn'ts:  it isn't a heart attack, or a stroke, or low or high blood pressure, or some weird cardiac episode, or low or high blood sugar.  That's all very good news.  I'd rather not have any of those things.

But I still wanted to know what it is.  So I went to my regular doctor, and she ordered more bloodwork, because I couldn't remember if I'd eaten the day I took the header into the corner cabinet and the door jamb, and some things are better measured after fasting.  And now I have another list of isn'ts:  it still isn't low or high blood sugar, or thyroid, or a weird hormonal thing.  (I was wondering if maybe it was some monster hot flash that felled me.)

In other news, I visited the orthopedic surgeon a couple of weeks ago (and got to see the nice Family Nurse Practitioner rather than the not-nice surgeon) and found out that my collarbone is knitting together, but the ends of the break are overlapping rather than being side by side.  The overlap isn't much and he said it can heal that way, but to keep it from getting worse I had to further limit my movement.  So, I've been reading a lot lately, and I've watched more television in the past six weeks than I have in the past six months.  (Is it just me, or are the same shows on every night?)  I'm still in the awful figure-of-eight splint, but apparently the thing does help.  I'm still off work until I go back to the ortho on the 18th and I'm really hoping he releases me to go back to work then.  

So we still don't know what it is, but I'm inclined to go along with my doctor's theory.  She thinks that because I was arguing with Mare just before I whacked my head that maybe I was so angry and frustrated with him (gee, you'd think she knows him) that I might've had an episode of vasovagal syncope.  In plain language, that means he pissed me off to the point that I lost consciousness.  This is not difficult for me to believe.  Usually when he makes me angry I throw a hammer at him, but I didn't have one that day.  I'll have one close at hand from now on.  Better he should get hit with a hammer than I should break another bone.