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carose59Maybe I'd Go To A Hospital Once I Had Things Figured Out A Little Better—I Didn't Want To Confuse People.*
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I think my "schistosomiasis" is acting up. Or else I'm dying.
In case you haven't read my post about my "schistosomiasis," and before you google it, here's what I'm talking about. There's an episode of WKRP in Cincinnati where Johnny's getting the flu. Only Les convinces him he has "schistosomiasis" and should see a neurologist. I don't need Les playing mind games with me; my own mind is more than happy to fuck with me. Anyway, when I suspect that's what's going on, I call it my "schistosomiasis" acting up.
I went to the doctor the other day and saw the physician's assistant, who I like more than my doctor. She lets me talk to her, and she likes that I'm an informed patient. I told her my hands feel funny, which we think has to do with the work I've been doing. The PA thinks it's a pinched nerve.
Also, my left side, which—it's always my left side. I don't know why. My left side has always been more troublesome than my right, and now I'm having these spells of feeling more aware of it that I am of my right side. It's a peculiar and disturbing sensation that sounds like it should be the harbinger of something horrible, like a massive stroke or the apocalypse.
I didn't mention that at the doctor's. Honestly, who do you know who you could say something like that to? There's no pain, there's just a peculiar insistence.
And I don't feel good.
And I'm under so much stress, I feel like I should be dead. The last time I felt like this, Pat died. Could there possibly be a connection to the fact that it's spring again?
This is not the first time I've suffered from peculiar, medically-ineffable maladies. This time I don't have to worry about it being my heart, since if my heart begins misbehaving, I'll get a phone call the next day from the pacemaker people. I assume they'll leave a message on my voicemail if I've died during the night.
Since I started this post, I've gone out to lunch with friends and now I feel much better. I don't know if it was the food, the copious amount of water I drank, or just being with nice people and laughing, but it pretty much tells me that it is indeed "schistosomiasis" because anything real wouldn't clear up like this.
*Mark Vonnegut
-:- -:- -:- -:-
I think my "schistosomiasis" is acting up. Or else I'm dying.
In case you haven't read my post about my "schistosomiasis," and before you google it, here's what I'm talking about. There's an episode of WKRP in Cincinnati where Johnny's getting the flu. Only Les convinces him he has "schistosomiasis" and should see a neurologist. I don't need Les playing mind games with me; my own mind is more than happy to fuck with me. Anyway, when I suspect that's what's going on, I call it my "schistosomiasis" acting up.
I went to the doctor the other day and saw the physician's assistant, who I like more than my doctor. She lets me talk to her, and she likes that I'm an informed patient. I told her my hands feel funny, which we think has to do with the work I've been doing. The PA thinks it's a pinched nerve.
Also, my left side, which—it's always my left side. I don't know why. My left side has always been more troublesome than my right, and now I'm having these spells of feeling more aware of it that I am of my right side. It's a peculiar and disturbing sensation that sounds like it should be the harbinger of something horrible, like a massive stroke or the apocalypse.
I didn't mention that at the doctor's. Honestly, who do you know who you could say something like that to? There's no pain, there's just a peculiar insistence.
And I don't feel good.
And I'm under so much stress, I feel like I should be dead. The last time I felt like this, Pat died. Could there possibly be a connection to the fact that it's spring again?
This is not the first time I've suffered from peculiar, medically-ineffable maladies. This time I don't have to worry about it being my heart, since if my heart begins misbehaving, I'll get a phone call the next day from the pacemaker people. I assume they'll leave a message on my voicemail if I've died during the night.
Since I started this post, I've gone out to lunch with friends and now I feel much better. I don't know if it was the food, the copious amount of water I drank, or just being with nice people and laughing, but it pretty much tells me that it is indeed "schistosomiasis" because anything real wouldn't clear up like this.
*Mark Vonnegut