To everyone who has sent me concerned emails or facebook messages these past few weeks. I really appreciate it. Thank you.
I know I haven't been around much, and when I have, my posts have been insipid and meaningless. I'm sorry about that.
I've been trying to get my health under control. I didn't want to come on here sounding like I'm whining again. I wanted to come back and write this wonderful, insightful, hilarious post, and then have everyone come racing back to me, telling me how much you missed me, and that your lives are now complete because of my inspiring words.
However. To be honest, I haven't been great. And I'm not going to sugar-coat it just because some people don't like narcissistic, "poor me" posts. The truth is I'm STILL waiting for a diagnosis as to why I am bleeding and in pain. I had another round of tests last week, another Gastroscopy, another CAT scan, more X-Rays, and, of course, the ever present blood tests. You'd think they'd come up with something more original by now.
I'm exhausted. And I'm pissed.
My arms have been totally massacred, and I look like a junkie.
So. Not. Cool.
See for yourself. This picture is the aftermath of them trying to put in a drip. It's a *bit* blurry, sorry, I took it with my left hand. And I was on drugs. And not even the good ones either.
The drip ended up in my other arm. Witness the beautiful job they did there too.
Oh, and here too.
Moving on...
The general consensus so far seems to be
Diverticulitis, a condition that usually affects the elderly. Fan-f**king-tastic. Now I'm getting old before my time. Pretty soon I'll be wearing my pants tucked into my socks and telling Tomika to
"turn that bloody music down!" Hang on... I already do that. Shit.
However, to throw another spanner in the works, the Gastroscopy showed three large (I'm talking 1cm each here people!),
Gastric ulcers, and lots of
polyps in my stomach and intestines. They took a biopsy to check for "the big C" among other things, and, you know, because
everyone wants a piece of me, and apparently bleeding me dry like Vampires is no longer enough for them. Now they want my flesh too. Next thing I know they'll have me strapped unconscious to a sacrificial slab cutting me open... Wait... They already did that. I am tossing up whether my doctors are really Voodoo medicine men in disguise, or bloody ghouls. Either way I'm pretty sure I'm a goner.
It's the waiting that's killing me. Not knowing
what is wrong. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I asked the doctors the other day why they didn't just
Cryogenically freeze me, and bring me back when they work out what's wrong. I thought that it was a wonderful idea. But they dashed my dreams of being frozen and hung on the wall like Han Solo, by telling me that would defeat the purpose as they needed me to let them know my symptoms so that they can diagnose me. Apparently you can't talk when you're frozen, or so they tell me. Go figure.
Whatever. I reckon they're just sadistic.
I think I'm getting the results of my biopsy... I want to know, and yet some part of me doesn't. Wow, conflicted much?
Wish me luck!
P.S. (Here's a little giggle-worthy pressie for you. These are the undies they made me wear during the procedure, (photo taken before I put them on, promise!), I laughed for at least half an hour.)
