I’m short one more test with a gynecologist to track down the anemia thing. I just had an upper bowel x ray. They give you two 12 oz. containers of barium to drink and insist that, yes, you have to drink both. I said, after forcing the first one down, that no way was I going to drink more unless they wanted me to throw it all up. People getting this test are most often obese. Why doesn’t that tell them anything? There is a painless but disgusting aftermath to this test. You don’t need details. The tech didn’t remark on any abnormalities which I was told he might do if he saw anything, so I am guessing they won’t find anything after they check the film.
My mouth still doesn’t feel normal since I drank the miralax prep for the colonoscopy. That was November 19th. Shouldn’t I be able to drink water without it’s feeling oily?
I got a referral to a gynecologist. The one I used to have, a woman, fired me because I was past child bearing age, and she was rude enough that I was grateful. So I haven’t seen one for several years. She also questioned me about my sexual history and I had the impression that she disapproved. Squeaky clean little me triggered her slut button. Or maybe she was jealous.
Meanwhile, Sol, who was here for the boat parade party – pizza and wine and dessert (and decorated boats going by, piloted by drunken revelers)– about 8 people in all (you wouldn’t believe the dishes because I couldn’t find the paper plates), stayed the night and the following day a friend of hers came by and we went to lunch at the Perfect Cup down by the big road. Her friend, Kathleen, a former neighbor of hers before she relocated to Naples, was recently widowed. She is in her 60s but looks much younger. She told this horror story about a blood vessel being clogged and the cancer specialist not finding it, and it was the cause of her husband dying. So, who was the doctor? The same one I’m seeing at Florida Cancer Specialists. So at my last visit with her a few days ago, she gave me a prescription for an iron tablet, which I am now taking. I do think I see a difference. But if any of my tests reveal a problem, we are not going back to her but will instead go to Moffitt, state of the art cancer center in Tampa, where I had my lumpectomy.
While Sol was here, we again gave Ziggy a bath, treated his paws, and ears, and mouth, and wrapped him in a huge towel so he couldn’t walk around while his paws were full of the med, and he sat, bundled up, on Sol’s lap for a half hour. He seemed fine with that part. I’m glad he doesn’t hold a grudge.