What Do You Give the Girl Who Has WTF?
Earlier this week at chez Fairchild:
Jif: You haven't told me what you want for Christmas...
Susie: Yea, if I were you, I'd hold off on spending the big bucks on ME. I mean, you might want to wait until I get a diagnosis before you go buying anything with a long shelf-life, if you know what I'm sayin'...
Jif: Oh, stop.
This afternoon, out to lunch, after today's appointment:
Jif: So, now that you're not going to be dying any minute now, what do you want for Christmas?
The doc today said that while the throat symptoms are suggestive of monstrous diseases, he does not see the "muscle wasting" that one would expect to see present with the monstrous illnesses. (Remember the insult, "Up your nose with a rubber hose?"* Well, that keeps happening to me, like today, except it's up my nose AND down my throat with a rubber hose on which is affixed a video camera. How's THAT for an insult?) He says I should keep pursuing a diagnosis with the New-Rollogist -- I'm seeing a NEW New-Rollogist next week -- and that I should see a speech pathologist to help me learn to deal with the weird throat muscle contractions that are plaguing me like . . . a plague. So. It was not bad news; just not as good as I'd wished for. I must be patient. Some more. Apparently. And pray. Some more. And I can do that. Especially with help. With helpers. Thanks, helpers :)
*It's funny how perspective changes. I've probably thought many times in my life, after visiting someone in the hospital or such, that I would HATE to have a tube up my nose, down my throat. Now, if someone offers to stick a flexible scope up my nose, or an inflexible lead pipe down my throat, I'm all, "HELLZ YEA! If it'll help you help me, by all means, bring it on!" I want to go back to being a normal person with only the occasional finger stuck up my nose.