I've narrowly escaped the triage room this morning. By the skin of my teeth, I suspect, and it was a scary moment. My blood pressure upon arrival in the vital-taking room was 148/101. Yes, it came down. 130-something over 82. Which made the doctor more happy and willing to let me get in the car and drive home, with reservations. This on top of the swelling in my fingers and my feet. On top of the cold sweats that I'm getting damn near every night now. On top of being chronically exhausted.

Makes me scared. Makes me stubborn. Makes me wonder at which point I listen to the doctors and at which point I'm prepared to ignore them... would I have actually gone to triage, ordered to or not this morning?