I�ve been super busy the past few days. Sorry I haven�t updated. On Tuesday, I went to St. Anthony�s Outpatient Center for the dreaded endoscopy. I really didn�t want to go because I thought that there could be nothing wrong with my esophagus or stomach because, after all, I don�t get heartburn or stomach pain very often. When I told my doctor I often choke on my food and recently have had a hard time swallowing and he recommended this test, I thought he was just covering his bases. I also still have to go get the other tests which 4 of the 7 are for my thyroid. I�m trying to wait on that.
Tuesday morning at o dark thirty, I rise and drag Jackie out of bed. I�m really tired because I didn�t sleep well, and she chooses this day to fight with me. She doesn�t want to get dressed, and when she does, I see she picked out a pair of shorts to wear. Hello little missy, it�s 40 degrees outside and you are NOT wearing shorts. She�s miffed. She then cannot find her shoes and lord, come on, you got a wall of shoes in the rack on the back of your door. Jackie's got more shoes than the US Army combined and she can't find anything. Sheesh.
When she�s finally pouting and dressed, I get dressed and realize I don�t have enough time to put my face on and I�m mad. I don�t like going barefaced unless absolutely necessary. It scares people and they think I�m sick.
I grab Jackie's lunch and backpack and I shove her out the door to Ms. Iris house. After giving her a quick kiss and hug, and telling her to be good at school, I watch her amble over to my neighbor's house. I feel bad because it seems like I'm always pushing her here, or there, not at her own pace, and it feels like she's always rushing. That's not fair. Oh well, I'll have to deal later.
It�s now 7:05 a.m. I�m waiting outside for Mr. Sweatpants. I�m ready, with my coat on and I have my purse in my lap so when he shows up we can just go. The appointment is at 7:30 and it takes about 14 minutes by car. He is SO SLOW!
I wait, I wait and I grow a beard. It�s now 7:15 and he�s not here. At 7:16 he finally drives up. He's so sweet to me, so I can�t be mad because we still have time to get there. It would�ve been 14 minutes to get there by the back way, but he decides to get on the highway. That is full of traffic. It was stupid crazy traffic and I know I couldn't deal with that everyday.
Whatever. I get to the Outpatient Center and practically sprint in. We fill out some �if I die it�s not your fault� paperwork and I�m situated in this tiny room and told to put on a paper nightgown. Exciting. I take this opportunity to close the door and do a sexy little strip dance (ala Demi Moore) for
Mr. Sweatpants, who then realizes we are in a CATHOLIC hospital and basically ignores me. I droop. I change.
After waiting for a while, they finally come in, kick him out, and take me into the procedure room. I�m starting to panic a little. I got a nice new IV and I�m still smarting from it. The nice nursey�s explain that this is very simple and I�ll be done in no time.
The anesthesiologist is really cute and really nice, and makes small talk with me before injecting a little something in my IV. I start talking to him about my job, and how weird people are that work for the government which is something I usually do not talk about. I�m really serious about it. And then I start slobbering on myself.
Gerta, the nice Iranian nurse, opens my mouth and starts spraying some NASTY crap in my throat. It tastes like bleach. My lips are parched now. I try to talk but Mr. Anesthesiologist is now injecting MORE sedative into my IV and it burns. It burns like, say, a scorching case of fleas, and I start getting very upset and I protested VERY LOUDLY. But before I can get too mad, I�m out.
I wake up crying. Why am I crying? It's not the last episode of Survivor and Marshall's isn't going out of business. Oh, and my nose is bleeding on the right nostril. I guess, from what they said is that my airway, thanks to my sleep apnea, got very �lazy� and they had to insert tubes in my nose to keep me alive. Hey, thanks for not letting me die!
I feel this intense sinus pressure, so I blow my nose, and I end up with �the blob� on my shirt and cheek. I�m so grossed out. Every time I blow my nose, my face looks like I�ve been in a car accident.
Sweet Rene� comes to see me. I�m still crying a little, probably from relief, but also because they told me I have a hiatal hernia, an eroded esophagus and esophagitis. Gee, isn�t this crap supposed to start falling apart when you�re 40? I�m 29 and I have sleep apnea, the above 3 conditions, and I�m bipolar. Gee, I hate to see 60.
Anyway, I go home and I pass out. And yesterday, I moved like a snail because I still felt sluggish. Nice.
8:42 a.m. - 2003-10-02
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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