Well, I've been struggling with a myriad of symptoms from extreme pain to female issues to dizziness to stomach issues to potty issues and etc for almost five and a half years now. It started in May 2004, after the car accident (see siggy) where I never stopped hurting. My general doctor actually said to me, "Sorry, hun, can't help you there" and walked out. I'll never forget that. So I realized I was basically alone and probably insane, making things up in my head. I lived with it, and fought through it with pain killers and learning to deal with being sick constantly. Perhaps I was just getting old. I was only 22, but hey, I had never been hardy to begin with. I walked a lot, exercised a lot, and maybe I was just worn out. An active healthy person can wear out, right? I went to a few other doctors eventually when I couldn't keep food down. They ran their stool tests and endoscopy. Their little catches and stuff. Everything came back normal. Once again I thought it had to be me, so I stopped going and learned to live with it. I wasn't losing any weight, which was weird because I still exercised regularly and I wasn't eating much at all. But hey, I was relatively happy with myself. I was 155 and my legs were built from walking. I could deal with my stomach being a bit distended, especially when I ate. I just wouldn't eat when I needed to go out. I had some things happen, life, changes and getting moved to another state. Got a new job, a less active one. Which was nice because then I had a reason not to push myself to be so tough. I still hurt, but I could deal better behind a headset. The problems began to increase so I went to the doctor yet again, thinking it was a new state and a new doctor. She promised to fix me. She lied. She was a pusher. She still is, and everytime I go all she wants is to give medicines. Even when I got promoted into a more physically demanding job and gained ten pounds with more activity, her reasoning was constipation, take a laxitive. I found another doctor after I gained a total of twenty-five pounds, most around my stomach, some in my under arms and thighs. This new guy, he's older, quiet, and helpful, for once. I get a colonoscopy. I'm clean. Which is good considering my Grandmother had died of colon cancer. No polyps means I'm not genetically predisposed to cancer. Hooray, I win one! So then I go to a dietician. I'm thinking I eat too much. Apparently I human can't live on 500 calories a day. How did I not know this? So she's teaching me to eat. Oops. Stomach kinda forgot to tell me and still does. I actually have to remind myself to feed because my brain no longer sends signals. I have to eat small meals because the signals are so weak for digestion, that anything large I get sick and throw up. But hey, I've lost twenty pounds and am still losing, and have all but given up most sweets and chocolate. That's a win at least. Now we're at present day. The migraines came back with machine guns. See, they were gone, back when I went to the neurologist in December for the same thing and he started tying everything together. Things had started making sense and this past year was spent realizing there was something wrong with me and it could be handled. It's progressively worsening, but able to be dealt with one day at a time. So right, week before last... Migranes. Machine guns. I usually deal with this, but when twelve tyelnol and eight aleve were doing nothing for it after six days, I broke down and called the doctor. Hydrocodone was the only thing to help and he doesn't want to give me that full time. So he suggests, "Have you taken your bp?" "With the spygometer in my back pocket?" <--Teasing, yes. "Go to Wal-Mart and check it and call back." So I do, and wow, it's up about 20, 25 points. My propranolol is raised from 40 twice a day to 80 twice a day now, and so far the headaches are basically gone, but there's this other problem... Unless I'm laying flat on my back in bed...my blood pressure is raising. I can't walk fast, I can't sit up, and I can't stand for long. I have to break and lay down, not on my front, but on my back. I was laying in the bed drawing on my stomach (er, I was laying on my stomach...oh, you get the idea) and had an attack. Hyperventilate, headache, and flushed in the face...the works. All of that was what happened last year when I originally went to the neurologist after the cardio said I was fine. So... ...any thoughts? And bless you for reading this if you did.