I’m having one of those weeks. And if I’m still sane on Saturday, it’ll be a bloomin’ miracle!
On Monday I visited the doctor in the morning and the vet in the afternoon. And no, I don’t have fleas, but thanks for asking.
My GP has (finally) decided to test for this Addison’s Thingy. I’m glad he took two weeks weighing the options before coming to a considered conclusion. Honestly. I’m relieved the thought of me lapsing into a potential coma didn’t rush him into making any kind of hasty decision. And I’m sure my blood-pressure hasn’t suffered any long-lasting effect. I mean, everyone has
constant palpitations from time-to-time, right?
But the good news? There’s only a small chance I may go into
ano anna annofalactic shock from the stuff they’ll use to inject me during the test.
Well, that’s okay then.
The visit to the vet was much more comfortable. My job was holding two recently neutered dogs in the back of my neighbour’s car while she drove to the clinic so they could have their stitches yanked.
Two nervous, yelping, yowling, fidgety dogs. And the poor puppy was so upset, he couldn’t help barfing up his dinner. All over me.
When I finally got home, Youngest said, ‘Urggg! What’s that horrible smell?’
‘That’ll just be me, son. I’m plastered in puppy puke.
‘On Tuesday I was back at the docs. Youngest has tonsillitis. It’s viral rather than bacterial, which means NO antibiotics, lots of
lazing about in front of the TV rest, plenty of expensive designer drinks fluids and bucket-loads of whining tender loving care.
Today I’m taking my friend to the dentist. She’s needs a tooth pulling. And she’s really phobic. I’ve promised to hold her hand;
when if she feels any pain, she can break my knuckles squeeze my hand. Boy! am I looking forward to that one!
Tomorrow I have my Addison’s Thingy Test. They take an initial sample to test the levels of Whatever-It-Is in my blood. Then I get the injection of Whatever-It-Is into my blood and I have to wait for half an hour for Whatever-It-Is to circulate my bloodstream. Finally I have another blood test to see if my body has naturally generated Whatever-It-Is in response to the synthetic injection of Whatever-It-Was they injected me with.
I’m not sure when, exactly, I’m supposed to go into
ano anna annofalactic shock. I’ll have to ask.
Finally, on Friday – if I’m still alive – I’m having an ultrasound scan. I’m not sure I want to go into details. Oh, alright, then. Since you’re so persistent, but I’m warning you: it’s not pleasant:
I’m having an … er…internal examination to see if really heavy monthly occasions are being caused by anything more …er…sinister than normal. It’s part of the whole Is-It-Time-For-a-Nap-Yet exhaustion thing. I’ll have this Star Wars type light saber instrument covered with a condom poking around where nobody’s poked around for a very long time.
I wonder if we’ll go to dinner first…