The Hanging Gardens

That awkward moment when I default back to classroom social norms and raise my hand in order to talk at a meeting.

I'll be over here in the corner, alternating between laughing at myself and combusting from embarrassment.

Being a medical student means being the worst sort of hypochondriac. I've been having these odd dyspneic episodes, which are uncomfortable enough on their own, and are made infinitely worse by the inevitable consideration of whether they're the shiny anglerfish's lure indicating a terrible, toothy disease lurking below. It doesn't matter how unlikely the possibilities are, I always find myself putting together a differential diagnosis while I gasp for breath.

Never mind angels and devils on my shoulder, or internal editors in dire need of a gagging, I would pay good money to silence my inner physician on occasion. Most especially when I'm abruptly very aware of needing to breathe in the worst way, and an inordinately cheerful little voice suggests: It could be congestive heart failure :3

I sincerely doubt it's CHF. I think I would have noticed a few other signs by now? And it's not like I have any risk factors for it, besides maybe high sodium intake? Let me tell you, internet, my diet is dire. I exemplify the stereotypical terrible student; I'm practically the Platonic ideal. I ate brownies for breakfast today, and I'm not even a little bit sorry.

Maybe it's COPD. :3333

I really don't think so, what with the no smoking history.

Maybe you have pulmonary hypertension. May. Be.

My blood pressure was checked this week, it's normal. High for me, but still in the normal range. Knock it off.

Anemia? Bloodwork was done a month ago.

Surprise pulmonary embolism? Pneumothorax? Now this is just getting ridiculous, and also, nope. The lack of giant stabby pain and immediate need for critical care kind of rules those out.

Well, what if cancer? Self, you can shut your filthy gob now, that is right at the bottom of the list.

My actual differential, at this point: Being very out of shape, new and interesting allergic reaction, adult onset asthma exacerbated by being very out of shape and/or allergies, psychosomatic manifestation of anxiety.

The first is far and away the most likely, and until I get evidence to the contrary (ie. I fall over and flop around unable to breathe), I'm operating off of the assumption that exercise is more likely to make things better than worse. A fast walk/slow jog for half an hour had my heartrate up to 140+. It's resting at 90 right now, which. Yeah. I should know better than to let things get that bad. At some point I should probably grab my stethoscope from the FLTC and actually listen to my heart and lungs, just to make certain everything sounds normal, but this is almost certainly an internal PSA on "Why You Shouldn't Attempt to Be One With the Couch, Chel, No Really. Exams Are Not An Excuse." And my chipper little internal doomsayer can go hang and take its catastrophic differentials with it.