Synopsis.
Bugger, I just wrote a big blog entry and it got deleted.
Here's what you need to know:
I'm alive.
I'm having fun, doing cardiovascular stuff now.
I'm thinking about becoming a cardiologist (yes, I know, a month ago it was medical microbiology, what can I say, I'm fickle).
ECGs are cool. Challenging, but cool.
I am officially a full fledged hypochondriac...here are the things that I am worried about:
Pansystolic mumur, loudest in the tricuspid region (possible regurgitant flow...or maybe benign?)
Prehypertension (my bp is 126/75...I'd prefer it to be lower than 120/80)
Bradycardia: hr is 46-54, normal is 60-100. I know my rate isn't low amongst athletes, but I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, athletic.
Ectopic beats/irregular heart rate (again, this is common and not something to worry about, nevertheless, I am determined to do so).
I was up until 1 am last night comparing my heart sounds to the ones recorded on our assigned CD. I hate how silly I am being about all this, but I can't help but wonder if I ought to get someone else's opinion. I'm sure any doctor would understand where I'm coming from...
Other things of note:
I helped out with the interview weekend in Van recently and spent my spring break reliving those nightmarish days when I was still hoop-jumping.
Melissa is coming back into town in a couple of weeks. Joy.
I am going home this weekend to see my family and get stuff done!
The stuff, there is much of it. The getting it done, not so much.
I have now got to go to class.
I am desperately in need of more coffee.
That is all.
Here's what you need to know:
I'm alive.
I'm having fun, doing cardiovascular stuff now.
I'm thinking about becoming a cardiologist (yes, I know, a month ago it was medical microbiology, what can I say, I'm fickle).
ECGs are cool. Challenging, but cool.
I am officially a full fledged hypochondriac...here are the things that I am worried about:
Pansystolic mumur, loudest in the tricuspid region (possible regurgitant flow...or maybe benign?)
Prehypertension (my bp is 126/75...I'd prefer it to be lower than 120/80)
Bradycardia: hr is 46-54, normal is 60-100. I know my rate isn't low amongst athletes, but I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, athletic.
Ectopic beats/irregular heart rate (again, this is common and not something to worry about, nevertheless, I am determined to do so).
I was up until 1 am last night comparing my heart sounds to the ones recorded on our assigned CD. I hate how silly I am being about all this, but I can't help but wonder if I ought to get someone else's opinion. I'm sure any doctor would understand where I'm coming from...
Other things of note:
I helped out with the interview weekend in Van recently and spent my spring break reliving those nightmarish days when I was still hoop-jumping.
Melissa is coming back into town in a couple of weeks. Joy.
I am going home this weekend to see my family and get stuff done!
The stuff, there is much of it. The getting it done, not so much.
I have now got to go to class.
I am desperately in need of more coffee.
That is all.
posted by Keltok at 10:37 AM
2 Comments:
This is odd. For some reason I can select your comment box BUT I can't post in it. So I tried writing up my comment in word pad and doing the whole copy and paste thing.
Anyway...as I was going to post.
I was almost going to say that I wasn't going to be able to come this weekend BUT I found a 50$ cheque for March that Peter gave me so I'll cash that and I'll be at my parents with bells on^_^
Err....and for the first time ever I can't remember Melissa's parents phone number. Go figure! Could you email it to me? Or leave it on msn pls Kelt? Anyway talk to you soon!
Ok...and so the pasting worked and now I can type...WTF!~LOL~
Dude, the whole hypochondria thing is a real pain . . . the more you lear n about something the more worrisome it is . . . until you finally have it down pat. I was telling you how I worry too much about different things, and I still can't believe you immediately proffer your medical diagnostic book . . . it would give me nightmares for months . . .
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