I think my primary care doc went AWOL, or the entire family health clinic got sucked into the 9th gate. That medication refill I put in last week? I didn’t get confirmation that it was received, and when I attempt to schedule an appointment/t-con either by doing it online or by calling the appointment line, there’s no appointment availability for as long as the current schedule calendar goes. Not even with his PA. After being put on hold multiple times, and talking to three different people, no one could tell me where my little doc has gone (or if he actually is gone). It’s like being trapped on a holey raft while sharks are circling and vultures are picking at my eyeballs and other squishy bits.
I was hoping to get an urgent appointment, either today or tomorrow, so I can avoid further exposure to the ER if at all possible. A PA from that department called me bright and early to let me know I’ve got an order for antibiotics waiting at the pharmacy. Another UTI. Maybe my urinary tract should be shellacked to prevent further infection. My concern isn’t the UTI, so much as the giant, pulsating and painful mass in my rlq along with episodes of ejecting copious amounts of blood and mucous from the rear exit. I don’t have an appendix anymore, so we can rule that one out (unless I’m having phantom appendix pains). If you’re reading this, I’m sure you’re sufficiently grossed out by now. I’d like to offer you a membership to my club! If I’m appalled by it, I can only imagine how people with normal guts must feel. Meetings at 8, byob.
I had an acute abdomen series done to check for obstruction and free air, which was negative, so whatever is going on is a little more obscure. I’m inclined to write it off as a not immediately consequential Crohn’s thing and sit here squeezing a pillow to my belly to hold my guts in, but this pain feels more acute in nature and it’s getting worse as the hours pass. About the only thing I can do is keep my mind occupied to prevent the pain from consuming my sanity completely, providing I’ve got any left. I wonder.
I’m currently going down the world’s largest phone tree while attempting to contact my GI doc for advice, or at the very least, to figure out when the hell he plans to order the remicade so I can schedule my first infusion. The hold music is awful. It sounds like a nazi invasion theme song. This shit needs to be taken care of soon. If this continues, my poor kidneys will get butt-hurt again, just as my function was starting to normalize. My Nephrologist told me if the trend continues, I should be off of dialysis by September! But this shit. UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGH! I scream.
Speaking of ice cream, it was MC’s responsibility to go grocery shopping yesterday. We’re out of most noshables, so it’s a good thing I have a large supply of broth since that’s all I can seem to tolerate. That 10 pounds I spent months collecting sure went away in a hurry. We’re out of laundry detergent, which makes de-stanking my shitfest clothing slightly more difficult as well. The largest problem, however, is that I’m on my last roll of TP. I’ve been averaging two rolls per day since this whole fucking thing started. My ass is destroying the environment! Save the planet! Cure Crohn’s! He left the house approximately 5 minutes before the store closed, because his adulting skills are about 10 steps below mine on weekends. He grabbed only what he could carry, which didn’t include food or TP. Bah!
He did stop at the class six that happens to be open three hours longer than the co-misery and bought me some 7-up and ginger ale. Also two pints of B&J’s, and a bag of tortilla chips in consolation for the lack of OTHER food. Where’s the barf face emoji?! He’s a sweet guy, but sometimes I wonder about his brain. When my stomach stops acting like a rocket launchpad, I’m going to murder that ice cream so hard. The tortilla chips, on the other hand….corn is death. I was going to stop there, but the word count was 666 and I’m a weeeeee bit superstitious. Now we’re square.
Happy fucking Monday.