Chris was up again in the morning. She had an appointment with the electro-cardiologist, or as I refer to him … Doctor Electro. He wasn’t really much help. He’s the one who hangs his hat on the POTS hook. That’s the diagnosis for a lot of the folks that have lingering issues after they get over Covid. Many of the approaches to this problem are direct opposite treatment plans from what her regular cardiologist has instituted. As far as Chris is concerned, the original cardiologist wins. She trusts the guy who has rummaged around inside her heart.
I heard back from my pain doc. He said he was sorry the last shot didn’t work. His next steps were one or more of these:
Contact the neurosurgeon about surgery.
Discuss the electrical implant further.
Take some pain medications.
Well, ok. I see the neurosurgeon in December anyway. Meanwhile …
Chris took Sam in for her next radiation. While they were gone I snuck into the shed and pulled out the lawn mower. Hey, I figured it was just pushing. How hard could it be? Besides, it’s supposed to start raining around here, and it’s gonna last a week. Some things you just gotta get done. It didn’t hurt too bad. Hardest part was pulling the cord to start it. But the yard looks ok. I didn’t edge though. No way I could handle the weed eater. This pain stuff can get really frustrating.
1 John 4:7 says, Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.
Father, thank you that Chris really trusts her cardiologist. Help him help her. Amen.
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