Posts Tagged ‘heartburn’

Tender

April 11, 2018

A belly full of fire.

A throat torn asunder.

A back knotted in pain.

All my emotions so close to the surface I laugh exuberantly and then tear up and cry.

I’m so tender and tired and worn out from the reflux.

I’m tired of writing about it, but not as tired as I am of experiencing it.

This constant pain and soft torture.

I called the GI’s office today that I was referred to and to my dismay I was told to have my doctor fax over my referral and then the doctor would get back to me in 24 hours.

I told the woman on the phone that my doctor did that yesterday and the person at her office I had spoken to had told me I would be contacted today.

And I wasn’t.

Not by three p.m. so I called.

Fortunately this woman who I spoke with got all my information down and promised I would hear back within the next 24 hours.

I am so ready to be seen, fixed, cured, helped.

Whatever it takes.

Until that time though I am trying to be gentle with myself.

I find that I am ok then something slight will set me off emotionally, and I don’t have as much patience with the kids and I want to check out and not be present.

I have not allowed myself to wander off too much internally and I have stayed pretty present and helpful for the mom and the family.

I’m getting by chewing gum and taking shots of vinegar.

I took one about an hour ago and it’s not working, but I did it anyway.

I took the new reflux medicine the new doctor prescribed a second time today and it’s not working either, but I did it anyway.

I don’t want to write my blog, but I’m doing it anyway.

I had both my clients cancel tonight and I thought I was going to go do the deal but I got so overwhelmed looking for parking I just cut and ran.

I drove home, parked, got to my house, got the mail, realized I had forgotten I had groceries in the boot until I was inside, went back, out, retrieved my groceries, came back home, and put them on the counter.

I was on a phone call and trying to be emotionally even keeled, but that wasn’t working either.

The sun had not set yet and I sat down on the chaise by the back door and soaked up some of the setting rays, got warm and cried soft slow wet tears talking to my friend.

I’m running a fever again.

I got off the phone put away the groceries, heated up some dinner.

I got a text from my person asking me where I was, was I going to the 7:15p.m.?

That had been my original plan, but I told him that I had come home, was feeling really sick, was eating dinner and crying and was trying to rally to go back out and hit an 8p.m. in the neighborhood.

Which.

Well.

I did not do.

I did not rally much.

I rallied enough to wash my dinner dishes.

And to open this page and write.

The writing helps, but it doesn’t stop the pain, it just gives me something to focus on for a while until I notice it again.

I’m being eaten from the inside out.

I feel like I’m aging.

I feel like I’m getting more gray hairs and definitely more wrinkles.

I feel old and depleted and tired and rotten inside.

What is wrong with me?

Oh God.

And now I just sound pitiful.

I hate feeling powerless and this is definitely me being powerless.

I just have to keep pushing through until I can be seen by the specialist and I will take whatever I can get as soon as I can get it.

He calls and says come in today I will leave work, cancel clients, and fucking go.

He says endoscopy tomorrow, I’ll fast the night away and cancel it all.

I have just got to get some relief.

“I could just kill myself,” a little voice said in my head as I got off the phone with my friend.

Great.

Suicide because of reflux.

What a pitiful way to go.

“How’d she die?”

Heartburn.

Nothing romantic there.

No.

I’m not going to kill myself because of this, but I am going to go to bed early tonight and I’m going to harass the hell out of doctor’s office to make an appointment.

I was asked to come in early to work tomorrow, so an early bed time isn’t a bad thing.

I’ll just wrap up some emails and call it a day.

Drink some hot tea and curl up in my bed.

Tuck my pink stuffy bunny under my arm.

And prop my pillows up high.

I’ve become a five-year old in my illness.

And I don’t fucking care.

Not one fucking bit.

Ok.

Maybe not a five-year old.

But

A seven-year old with a profanity problem.

Or rather.

A forty-five yearl old who just really needs to be babied for awhile.

Sigh.

 

 

How’s Your Poo Poo?

March 24, 2018

What the fuck did you just ask me?

Did you ask my how my “poo poo” was?

Did you really?

I’m a 45-year-old woman.

Jesus fuck.

Of course, you did, dear doctor, yes, I had a doctor ask me that, you also referred to your receptionist as your “office girl.”

God damn man.

Get with the fucking century.

I was not happy with my experience today, but I am happy to have gone, despite my trepidations, despite my annoyance at the parking in Chinatown, despite having to go to a fucking doctor in some weird old building in Chinatown, despite the bathroom looking worse than a JC Decaux public bathroom on Market Street, why was there a nest of toilet paper in front of the toilet?  Why? In the women’s bathroom, I had asked for the code after my appointment and I couldn’t even bring myself to use the loo.

This coming from a woman who has gone to Burning Man 11 years in a row and used many port-a-potties.

I just was over it.

Over the entire fucking thing.

Over having a PPO for my health insurance.

Over it.

As my best friend said to me earlier, look at it like an adventure, look at it like an experience.

An adventure I never want to do again, nor an experience I want to have either.

I am also looking at it from the vantage point of now I know.

Now I know how much I liked having Kaiser and now I’m willing to get it back as my insurance.  I just can’t handle many more third world microwave on top of the file boxes, 11 people in the waiting room to be seen by one doctor, with only four chairs to sit on, a doctor who infantilized what was happening in my body and the not so hygienic conditions of the entire space.

I just don’t want to have that experience ever fucking again.

Unfortunately I do have to go in for an endoscopy.

Fortunately it is not to be had at that office.

It will be at the Golden Gate Endoscopy Center.

Which will make four, no, five!

Five different places I have had to go to, all across the city from Ocean Avenue, to Noriega and 26th, to Irving and 22nd, to Pacific and Grand, to this place on Geary.

Five fucking different places to have this issue looked at.

Over a huge span of time.

It has taken months to get this far.

I am so very over it.

I’m pretty much done.

And have the god damn reflux so bad right now.

Ugh.

I still haven’t gotten the lab results back.

I’m still hoping that it’s an infection and that I can treat it with antibiotics.

If that’s the case, then no endoscopy.

I’ll cancel the damn thing.

It’s also such a nuisance, I’ll have to be at the facility at 7 a.m.

And I’ll have to have fasted and not drank any water after midnight the night before.

Which isn’t so bad I suppose.

What’s annoying is that I have to be released to someone because I will be put under for the procedure.

It’s not a heavy sedation, but it is sedation and I apparently need to be released to a friend or family member.

Yeah, no family members around this neck of the woods.

I got a little stressed trying to think of who I was going to ask who could come at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday and grab me.

My friends are all fucking working.

Not an ask I want to make.

However.

The mom at my job offered!

I was shocked.

I was so surprised.

Grandma happens to be visiting that week and she said she could come and get me and I was just so moved by her offer.

And she really meant it, she really wants to help.

And although I’m a little loathe to ask my employer to do me this favor, so far the one other person I’ve checked in with wasn’t available.

I have a few other folks I’ll ask, but it looks like I may very well be asking my boss to pick me up.

I work for some really kind people.

As kind as they are, though, I was happy to leave today, I was tired, it was a long week, it was an emotional rollercoaster with the doctor I had a feeling it was going to be unpleasant and yup, it was.

I’m glad it’s done and hopefully this will all be resolved soon.

Fingers crossed.

And in the meantime.

Well.

It’s time.

Time to research and find better insurance.

Time to take care of my health in a way that better suits my needs.

I need, very much so, to never have that experience again.

No fucking thank you.

Feel The Burn!

March 16, 2018

Although.

Honestly.

I’d rather not.

I’m rather over feeling the fucking burn.

It fucking hurts.

I’ve been having some horrendous silent reflux.

Silent, as in I don’t burp with it, there’s not a discernible regurgitation happening, but, oh man, it’s there, and the pain, well, it’s not silent at all.

I, on the other hand, have been pretty silent about it.

I’ve been rather, grin and bear it.

But about four, five months ago I just could not do it anymore and I went and saw a doctor, with whom I had a follow-up appointment with today.

As my symptoms have not gone away despite being on a three-month dosage of medication to ease the acid in my tummy.

After going over all my food stuff again–no citrus, no peppers, easy on the tomatoes, nothing sour, no alcohol, nothing too fatty–I pretty much cleared everything but coffee.

I have definitely lessened my intake of the beverage, but I’m still drinking it.

I sort of feel like you can pry coffee from my cold dead hands.

Because frankly that’s what it’s going to feel like to not be able to drink it.

I have noticed that the reflux is worse if I drink any in the afternoons, it got bad Saturday when I was in school and had a coffee on a break with one of my friends in cohort.

And today, although it was decaf, I did notice an upsurge of the acid this afternoon and despite taking a second dose of the medication, it’s been pretty horrendous all day.

Then again, it could also be stress.

And let me not belabor the point.

I have stress in my life.

I work full-time in a caring profession, my doctor warned against ‘care taker burnout’ which is feasible, I work a lot for my family and it was a stressful past three weeks with a lot of sick kiddos to contend with.

(Then again, I’ve been a caretaker all my life.  I’m not sure I know how not to be).

And.

I also am a psychotherapist in training, so holding space for 7-8 clients a week, after care taking the family I nanny with, could, yes, contribute to burn out.

Oh.

And let me not forget I’m in grad school full-time.

Plus.

Well.

Personal work and relational grief have been at the top of my charts now for months, god, of course I have an upset stomach.

But.

I think it’s not just the stress, although it is very likely to be a contributor.

I think there is something else wrong and so does my doctor.

So I have to rule out a bunch of stuff.

Number one.

H. Pylori.

Which is a stomach infection that causes ulcers.

If it’s this, which in some way I sure hope it is, the lab test will let me know.

I have to, ugh, do a stool sample.

Never fucking though I would be writing that in a blog post.

If I have the infection it is easily treatable with a heavy dose of antibiotics.

The doc said I’d have to do two weeks of antibiotics four times a day.

Not the most fun, but doable.

The other thing that it could be is that the sphincter muscle in the esophagus is not working right, thereby not closing and allowing stomach acid up into my esophagus and throat, my nose and mouth.

I have acid in my mouth all the time.

I hate it.

I can’t taste it.

But I can feel it.

Hurts my teeth.

I also have a pretty constant sore throat and a tickle that leads to a cough.

I am not sick like a traditional cold, but it sounds like I have a cold.

I also have a great deal of nausea.

I haven’t thrown up, but I have had dry heaves a few times and once or twice did think I was going to vomit during some super stressful emotional moments.

What ever the cause.

I’m over it.

It’s been a pretty consistent life thing to deal with and I am tired of it.

The doctor referred me to a specialist, who can’t see me for a month, so I’m going to try to book another appointment with another on the list of doctor referrals given to me.

Hopefully I can be seen sooner than a month.

I was also warned that should I vomit blood or pass blood I have to go to the ER immediately, that such a symptom is indicative of a bleeding ulcer and I’d need to be seen right away.

Great.

Just what I wanted to hear.

Or that it, the acid, could cause me to have esophageal cancer.

Nobody wants the cancer word thrown about.

Nobody.

So yeah, it could have been th decaf coffee I had with my charge at Maxfield’s today as he enjoyed an afterschool treat with me and wrangled the promise of me teaching him how to play Monopoly, the kid’s going to be great at it fyi, or it could have been the stress of being told I could have bleeding ulcers and cancer.

Happy Thursday!

Ugh.

I was pretty shook up after leaving the office and I had to go to a lab cross town to get the stuff for the stool sample, ugh, ugh, ugh, and then over to Walgreens to pick up more prescriptions for it, and I ended up being pretty teary at work when I showed up.

The mom just gave me the biggest hugs.

It was very sweet, she is so sweet to me.

Hell, I’m tearing up writing about.

And I realized.

I could use a lot of hugs.

So if you see me out and about, stop and say hello and give me a squeeze.

The hugs they do help.

And fingers crossed, this will all get figured out and it will be a very simple solution.

I’ve got faith.

I am being taken care of.

I always am.

 


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