Medical Update
For the past few months I have been in and out of the ER, the hospital, and various clinics.
Still, I've spent most of the time in my bed, which is better. I have Hissy to protect my feet, a job she takes VERY seriously. She's not sure what is attacking me, but she's decided her role in family is to stay touching a foot at all times, ready to scream a strident lecture at anything that dares get too close. She includes the Spousal Unit in anything.
Speaking of felines, I had another cat scan last week. This is a test I don't mind because, other than feeling weirdly warm when they run the scan, it's non-scary and painless. They didn't make me drink barium this time, thank all, so the worst of it was just wearing a shower cap and getting velcro'ed down for a spin in the doughnut. Yee-haw!
I saw The Specialist again today. This was rather more grim. He doesn't believe treatment is working, and he's dismissed the other chemical treatments. The side effects of line B can include massive risk of stroke, which, granted, kind of makes option Bs not really so much an option.
What he wanted to do is surgery. Not fix it surgery, but let's rip a hole and insert a camera in your guts and rummage around and see if something is waving around a big sign that says 'Help Me!'
That seemed more stupid and pathetic than option B to me.
So, since I'm The Decider and I decide, we're staying the course.
Yes, I've been watching the Daily Show streaming, and I am grabbing my lame humour wherever it is limping. Laughing is, as always, the only thing left to do.
I feel like the ultimate Pollyanna, which is so profoundly weird. Because I, my friends, am the anti-Pollyanna. Sweet all, you know things have gone a little ka-ka when *I'm* the voice of shining hope.
I guess we'll see if it's deluded hope...
Still, I've spent most of the time in my bed, which is better. I have Hissy to protect my feet, a job she takes VERY seriously. She's not sure what is attacking me, but she's decided her role in family is to stay touching a foot at all times, ready to scream a strident lecture at anything that dares get too close. She includes the Spousal Unit in anything.
Speaking of felines, I had another cat scan last week. This is a test I don't mind because, other than feeling weirdly warm when they run the scan, it's non-scary and painless. They didn't make me drink barium this time, thank all, so the worst of it was just wearing a shower cap and getting velcro'ed down for a spin in the doughnut. Yee-haw!
I saw The Specialist again today. This was rather more grim. He doesn't believe treatment is working, and he's dismissed the other chemical treatments. The side effects of line B can include massive risk of stroke, which, granted, kind of makes option Bs not really so much an option.
What he wanted to do is surgery. Not fix it surgery, but let's rip a hole and insert a camera in your guts and rummage around and see if something is waving around a big sign that says 'Help Me!'
That seemed more stupid and pathetic than option B to me.
So, since I'm The Decider and I decide, we're staying the course.
Yes, I've been watching the Daily Show streaming, and I am grabbing my lame humour wherever it is limping. Laughing is, as always, the only thing left to do.
I feel like the ultimate Pollyanna, which is so profoundly weird. Because I, my friends, am the anti-Pollyanna. Sweet all, you know things have gone a little ka-ka when *I'm* the voice of shining hope.
I guess we'll see if it's deluded hope...
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