Kindly Póg Mo Thóin

So, the dehydration? Has fucked up my liver.

I was doing okay until Thursday, when I woke up at 4 am in agony.  I felt nauseous and was doubled over in pain; though I got to the brink of vomiting, nothing came out.  I had to take Junebug to the vet that morning, and had several meetings lined up, so I had to go into work.  But I felt completely poleaxed.  It wasn’t just that I was in pain and nauseous; I wasn’t really functioning mentally.  But I got through the morning by clutching a bottle of sports drink (fortunately, I’d just bought some hydration/electrolyte tablets at the running store, and they helped immensely) and left early to go to my doctor.

Which I have, now.  A doctor.  Because I have insurance.

Anyway, my doctor was actually on vacation, so I got his cranky partner, who seemed skeptical that I had identified my internal organs correctly (he asked me to show him where my kidneys were when I said my kidneys hurt, and didn’t seem to take my self-diagnosis of liver pain seriously until he palpated me and discovered that one edge of my liver was unusually firm.  He sent me off to the lab to get some blood drawn and advised me to keep hydrating and make sure I ate.  The next day, he called me with the results: my kidneys, urine, salts and potassium were all fine, but my liver enzymes were elevated.  I should come in to the lab again for a liver panel, and the ultrasound people would be calling me for an appointment, after which I should go see my doctor again.

My brother, who’s a fire-rescue EMT, sees a lot of dehydration on his crews, especially during wildfire season.  He tells me this is pretty typical, given the beating my system just took with the dehydration, and will pass.  I just need to rest, keep taking in fluids, and eat whether I want to or not.

And in the meantime, I can’t exercise.  Which means no half-marathon next Saturday.  I’m still picking up my t-shirt.