Doctor Appointments

Doctor appointments: I loathe them. Always have. Was particularly annoyed during cancer treatment years ago when I went 3-4 days a week to some appointment or another, major ones like heart tests and chemo infusions and discussions about whether to radiate my body.

I have another appointment tomorrow morning.

While I hate seeing the doctor, I also hate…well, what I’m going through now.

I know I mentioned my ER visit on January 14, but what I didn’t mention was that three days earlier, approximately eight hours after this picture was taken of me enjoying my customary (free) birthday fries, I had another “episode” of pain that lasted 12 hours. The ER doc suspects biliary colic which is a fancy way of saying that he thinks my gallbladder is kaput.

I’ve had 4-5 attacks since the ER visit—I’m losing track—that always last 12 hours unless I break down and take Vicodin.

Before a few of you start saying, “Why doesn’t the woman just freaking go get her gallbladder out,” I’ve consulted a surgeon and he said he didn’t want to take my gallbladder out because a) I do not have any stones, b) he doesn’t think it’s my gallbladder causing all these issues, and c) he wants to investigate further. That appointment doesn’t happen until February 23.

In the meantime, I feel like I’m tiptoeing through life. I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up with an eating disorder by the time this is through as I have no idea what to eat.

It’s like I turned 56 on the 9th and my life’s gone down the crapper ever since.

But just when I feel like giving in and being a real “whiny pee-pants” as Ken‘s friend likes to say, I remind myself that I could have died almost 14 years ago, and I didn’t. I got through that and I’ll get through this, because, well, God always has a plan for everything.