Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
Many of you are probably aware that my health hasn't been the best during 2019. During the first part of the year I learned I had hypothyroidism and a sleep disorder after I started sleeping 20 hours or so a day with the desire to wake up but not the ability. My thyroid levels are now where they should be because brilliantly beautiful Dr. Driver prescribed the correct medicine and has monitored the levels. I'm not crazy about the CPAPCRAP, but it's not the end of the world.
Recently, though, I had quite a health scare that sent me to the ER in intense pain: lower left quadrant of the abdomen. The slightest movement made me squawk.
The day before, a Monday, I didn't feel right at work. I went in late (usually I'm early). I had stomach cramps but didn't have diarrhea. Had a terrible headache that wasn't a migraine. Nausea. Can't remember everything although I wrote down all my symptoms on my account of my day that I left for my kind manager. Oh, lower back pain. That was another one.
I got home at 1 a.m. that night, or you can call it very early Tuesday morning. I took ibuyprofen. The pain intensified. I was able to fall asleep at 2:30 and awoke at 5:30 in even worse pain. I lay in bed and didn't move until I absolutely had to pee. I knew that my snow bird housemate (I know I haven't written a post about Carol living with me this winter but you understand I haven't had a chance), a retired RN, would find me. I heard her come toward my room mid-morning, asking why I wasn't getting ready for work. I squawked, and it was Carol to the rescue. She called Dr. Driver's office and told them about the pain. Dr. Driver's assistant, Bailey, called back a couple of hours later to find out if the pain was still bad. Yes. Absolutely. Bailey said Dr. Driver wanted me to go to the ER.
The ER doctors and nurses were great. I didn't wait for hours to be seen. I heard the first nurse who saw me tell someone that I needed to be taken care of immediately. A scan revealed some kind of thickness on my colon that accounted for the pain. I was given fluids and pain meds through an IV. The doctor asked if I should spend the night in the hospital to manage my pain. I said, Not necessary, and pointed to Carol. I went home with prescriptions for pain medication and antibiotics. The antibiotics were supposed to help shrink what was on my colon so I could have a colonoscopy to determine if I had cancer.
I admit I was pretty nervous for about two and a half weeks as I made an appointment with a gastroenterologist, who saw me pretty quickly and kindly got me scheduled for a colonoscopy and an endoscopy on Saturday.
I DON'T HAVE CANCER. Whew! I'm glad to be able to tell you that. The mass on my colon was gone, which means it was an infection that was killed by the anitibiotics. I do, however, have gastroenteritis. What is gastroenteritis? I'll let you know when I figure it out. I was pretty loopy when I came out of the anesthesia. Carol says that the gastroenterologist was concerned that something is wrong with my digestive system, but higher up, as in a worse than good ole heartburn kinda way. I'm now taking a medication that he prescribed, and I'm supposed to mix Metamucil in water and drink it every day. I bought the Metamucil today. I'm excited to taste its deliciousness (you know that's sarcasm). I'm supposed to see the gastroenterologist in a few weeks, and today I have an appointment with Dr. Driver. I know she'll help me understand what's going on. If I look up my health problems online I'll probably just frighten myself.
Now let's take a minute to dish about someone who is not so nice: Dr. X. I haven't said much about him for quite some time. I want to leave all the nastiness in the past and live the life I have now, which is not so bad in spite of health problems and some other stuff.
Years ago I asked X to please set up direct deposit for me. I never knew when his checks would arrive. Although I'm supposed to have them by certain dates and often don't receive them until I reach the point of feeling a bit nervous about whether they would arrive in time to keep up with the house payment and the electric bill, I never reported it to the court. I lived with it.
Recently I made the direct deposit request again. He acquiesced. He claims that his bank has rules about how much he can send and how often he can send it. I suggested a way to deal with it. He said okay but didn't do it. It's made a mess of my finances, for which he blames me because I asked him to please deal with his bank and get it straightened out. Moreover, he was very nasty to me while I was waiting to find out what the creature on my colon was. I told him what I was going through and he only got nastier. If you're reading this asshat, you are an asshat. An ugly, mean asshat, and I pity your wife.
Why can't we just live our separate lives without him turning a simple request into a major brouhaha?
I've always liked that Alanis Morissette song, You Oughta Know. Although I don't think I was ever perverted as Alanis describes herself in the song (she has said that the song is based on an experience in her life so I'm not calling the speaker in the lyrics a poetic persona), the words in the song have a lot of meaning for me.
I saw Alanis wearing a wig and doing a segment for Jimmy Fallon's show where the two of the them busked in the New York subway. They did Little Drummer Boy. Then my girl Alanis launched into You Oughta Know. Thank you for writing a song that expresses my feelings, Alanis.
I also watched Jimmy interview Alanis on his show (online--I don't stay up late enough to watch Jimmy Fallon's show). I admit that I was pleased to see that Alanis has put on some weight. She's no longer super thin. I AM NOT FAT SHAMING HER BECAUSE SHE'S NOT FAT. She merely has some curves now, as do I. I am not the only person who went from being super thin to being rather curvy as I aged. In my case, I put on the weight because of an antidepressant I took during the waning days of marriage misery. I've never again taken an antidepressant that made me want to stuff fistfuls of food in my mouth, but I do continue to take an antidepressant, which helps me a lot. I lost some of the weight, but I don't know if I'll ever get it all off. Dr. Driver says I don't eat enough to lose weight, which I'm sure is true. I'm not all that hungry--especially of late--so my body thinks it's being starved and fights to keep the weight. I also work at a sedentary job. Now that I'm recovering from the colon infection and taking medication for the problems that remain, I hope Franklin and I can walk to the park more often.
It was 78 degrees today. Not that you should feel jealous.
Again, I beg your forgiveness for my inability to visit your blogs regularly. I miss you and wish I had more time and felt better. I don't expect to have more time, but I do expect to feel better.
Isn't it crazy that I couldn't stay awake for the first part of the year and then I went through that period of not being able to sleep? I've slept well lately with some notable exceptions caused by pain.
Infinities of love,
Alanis, will you please sing us out?