I hate doctors.  It is rather atavistic of me, but it's true.  So I put off seeing a doctor about "the-flu-that-wouldn't-die" until yesterday.  Wouldn't you know it, I had a classic panic attack in the doctor's office, freaking her out with an incredibly high blood pressure and a heart rate through the roof.  Funny thing, less than an hour after I left the doctor's office, my BP had dropped thirty points, though my heart rate's only now settling down.
     I REALLY hate doctors.  From my childhood illnesses through my late parents' tribulations with doctors, tests, and misdiagnoses, my experience of them has been overwhelmingly negative.  My heart rate is back to its normal resting rate of 72.  It was over 90, topping 99 during the afternoon yesterday.  My BP hasn't completely settled, it's still a little high, but I'm on antibiotics, I'm sick as a dog, my throat and my head ache, so I won't be able to tell if I'm mildly hypertensive or not for the next week or so.
     God, I hate doctors.