Ahhh, crap

Hell yeah, just what I needed   another major health crisis. 

Symptoms:  acute episodic colicky abdominal pain, radiating around the back;  sweats and shakes;  nausea and vomiting etc etc.  Episodes started early this year, but in recent months have become more frequent, like every day or two.  For some reason the episodes occur at around 3.00 am, last an hour or three or five and leave me limp and sore for days.   The pain never really goes away, it subsides to a dull ache is all.

Which explains the sporadic posting, particularly in recent weeks; this crap on top of the “usual”.  I was hoping like hell it was Coeliac-related, or just really, really severe constipation … Well I’d had a week and a half of severe neck and back pain, so had increased my dosage of m0rphine a little, and my appetite had gone from low to non-existent so I hadn’t eaten much [anything] in days.  So that could major blockage, right?  Right … except that it’s not constipation.   I ate a lot of prunes and dried figs to prove this point.

I finally gave in and went to the doctor because the pain was scaring me and I’m kinda accustomed to the pain thing.  Tux had wanted to call the doctor out on several occasions; also the words “emergency” and “hospital” had been bandied about but the last thing I wanted at the time was to spend three hours waiting in a cold hospital corridor.  So off I went for tests, yay TESTS oh I love me some tests.

Fuck’s sake.  I’ve had so many X-Rays, CT Scans, bone densitometries and MRIs it’s a wonder I don’t glow in the dark.  Ah well, look on the bright side, with my collection of scans we don’t need to pay to tint the house’s windows, we’ll just coat every reflective surface with pretty pics of my spine and pelvis and gut.

First up, abdominal ultrasound.  Nothing wrong with gall-bladder; no gallstones or anything.  Liver, normal.  Everything else, normal.  So, more tests wheeeee!

Abdominal X-Ray and CT Scan with contrast dye next, mmmmm that’s such a delicious and enjoyable experience.  Also blood tests for everything.  The technician pulled about six pints and buggered up my vein. 

So now we wait.  The doc [my lovely GP] suspects pancreatitis, isn’t that FUN, boys and girls?  Because I really needed another health issue to add to my collection.

. . . . . . . . . .

Despite my piss-poor attempts at a facetious tone I’m a bit distraught at the moment.  I had a momentary break-down in the doc’s office when he mentioned pancreatitis;  he was shocked as he’s never seen me lose it, not even those times he’s had to come out in the middle of the night to shoot me up with enough pethidine to knock out the Budweiser Clydesdale team.  I had a few more short weeps after all the testing, partly because I was hurting so much and just plain exhausted, mostly because I couldn’t bear much more of it.

“It” being the whole health thing; always in pain, always something going wrong, my life being totally fucked up, unable to do anything, not being able to get out of bed for weeks at a time [four weeks for this latest lot], blah blah blah.  I loathe self-pity, it’s disgusting and from a world view perspective my situation is much, much less than speck-of-sand so I’m ashamed of myself for feeling so wretched.  Complicated huh.

Tux has had to miss a few days of work here and there, which makes me feel even more guilty and upset.  I was having another brief silent – I thought – weep in bed Friday night after the day of tests and Tux rolled over, put his hand on my shoulder [the only place I can bear to be touched – no we have not had any sex for four weeks and I’m DYING, being a several times a week girl and all, please and thank you] [ and no horse-riding either waaah] and said in a very firm voice “Stop.  Just stop.  Stop beating yourself up over something over which you have no control.  Forgive yourself.”  And rolled back.  I stopped alright; Tux in firm and serious mode is not to be messed with. 

Anyway he’s right.  I can’t help my stupid fucked up body with all it’s problems that can’t be fixed.  I can’t help feeling despairing, either.  Just occasionally, say 1% of the time, it gets to be too much; too much pain, too much disruption.   And I can’t take anymore … except that I can, and will.  Life sucks that way.

Possibly I’m not an atheist anymore; I have decided I’m actually a “paranoid agnostic”; I believe there may be a God / omniscient deity because someone up there really hates me.  Just call me Job.

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Comments

  • Tux  On Sunday 7 September 2008 at 11:22 pm

    Greetings to the paranoid agnostic, from the non-practicing virgins of the world.

  • D  On Wednesday 10 September 2008 at 7:27 pm

    Shit, girl 😦

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