Self diagnosis

So the question is what exactly brought on persistent cramps today? My bet is on a combination of raw carrots and iron supplement, on top of my GI tract's general disgruntlement with the world ever since I forced metronidazole on it. However, the reuben sandwich (with extra sauerkraut) and coleslaw may have also acted as predisposing forces. Starting last night and continuing all of today, I've been doubling over every couple of minutes with a fresh round of abdominal pain. I'd been a bit tender in increasing increments after Wednesday's endoscopy, but this is actual pain.

And it's exhausting. It's a good thing our winter break goes for three weeks, because I can't imagine how I would handle classes on top of this. As it is, I don't see a way I can keep up the surgery tech job. Sometimes I feel fine (well, not this week so much, actually). But it's so unpredictable, I don't think there's any way I could ensure I'd be able to work any given night. I know that there's never a way to guarantee you won't come down with a stomach bug on a day you have to work, but I think you can usually count on not having that problem a routine basis.

My hope is that with meds and very careful eating, I won't have this set of problems during school. Even if I do, there's a trance-like quality to studying which can cover up minor discomfort.

I find it interesting that I am much less resistant to the idea of starting meds before seeing the doctor once I'm actually in pain. "Gimme anything that'll help!"

Hopefully the copious amounts of gatorade, pepto bismol, and avoidance of carrots will do the trick and I'll be back to normal tomorrow.

To med or not to med

Did I mention I don't like medicine that's happening to me? Iron was fine, that was a nice, straightforward solution. And it miraculously made all the other symptoms decrease so much that I was happy to consider them gone. Now that I'm paying more attention to it, I realize that they aren't really gone, just masked a bit. The abdominal pain is still there, but so damped down that I don't really consider it pain--just a constant slight unease, like I overate and just have to wait it out. It's easy to ignore moment to moment.

I should be glad that things with the doctors are moving along so fast. I'm sure if they were't I would be fretting my guts out (wait, didn't I already sort of do that?). However, I think I might not have minded having a day or two to pretend that things are normal. As my doctor sister pointed out, nothing has really changed.

The meds in question are asacol and prednisone. Prednisone is one of those scary names, which I prefer to apply to other people's (or dogs') treatment plans. I never heard anything about asacol until being told I was supposed to take nine tablets a day of it. The internet being what it is, it's way too easy to find all the bad effects people have suffered from these drugs.

Sedation, woo hoo!

Finishing off the PEG was only possible with the aid of much cinnamon chewing gum and a relatively mindless Heinlein book. It takes a lot of concentrated sipping to get down a gallon of PEG. It tastes like slightly salty water, but just a little off--almost as though it was slightly salty water that happens to be completely indigestible. Surprise!

Then it was off to the hospital. I wasn't very relaxed. The IV line going in hurt just like someone jabbed a small tube in through the back of my hand (funny, that).

Once they had me settled on the gurney, the soft spoken doctor came and told me about the procedure in a lot less detail than I already knew. The nurse started the fentanyl. I suppose it might have stung a bit going in, but the IV line was already making my hand sting pretty badly, so I wasn't sure. Then I guess the stuff hit my system, because suddenly my chest tightened and I sort of squeaked out, "I'm having trouble breathing!" The thought that flashed through my mind: I don't know that I'm not allergic to benadryl, and the lungs are the anaphylactic shock organ in people...

But then my breathing eased up just as suddenly. The nurse asked cheerfully, "Is the room spinning yet?"
"Yeah, actually," I said.

Then I was lying on my side, very groggy, and wondering if they were going to start the procedure yet. It took about a minute for me to wake up enough to realize that I was in a totally different room now--two hours later.

Once I was more or less awake, I got to see the pictures of my colon. Well, no wonder I've been having digestive problems for years! A number of ulcers, some that look fairly minor, a couple that are probably more concerning. I'm not in a position to make any diagnoses though. That's why I have another appointment next week, to find out what the gastroenterologists conclude.

And in the meantime, I get to eat food again!

Jello vs. truffles

In honor of my imminent 2-day eating ban, I had huge dinner last night: steak, mashed potatoes, and green pepper and mushroom saute. But before that--I made truffles! I've made them before, but only the solid ganache version where you roll them in cocoa powder under the supposition that this prevents them sticking to your hands on the trip to your mouth.

This time, I made a special trip to the local cake decorating store and got a truffle mold.* Ooo, ahh.* I almost got one while I was in Vegas, visiting the land of Sur la Table, but I couldn't think of a good way to pack it. And this way I was able to peruse the rack of concentrated flavorings, which has tempting flavors such as amaretto and blackberry.

Then to the kitchen! I improvised a double boiler with a bowl that I believe started life as a dog food dish, but has seen much use here and in the dorms. I had two types of chocolate: the Trader Joe's pound-o-dark, and the Scharffen Berger elitist bar. The elitist was a pale tan color, since it's been sitting in my cupboard for a year (or two? I don't recall...) and bloomed more than a bank of day lilies. But hey, all things chocolate are fixed by melting! I added in some 99%, too, for that special bitter flavor. I originally had three bars of Scharffen Berger in different grades of sweetness, but I ate the mildest long ago.

The elitist went for lining the mold. The pound-o-dark went for ganache. I had trouble with it--it decided to go all watery and clumpy on me. Adding more chocolate helped smooth it, at least enough so it didn't separate on the spot. I scooped out half to make pure dark chocolate truffles out of, then tried a touch of amaretto.
Meh.
Orange?
Hey...
I revised my plan for dark chocolate truffles to include dark chocolate + orange truffles.

Once they'd set and I'd figured out how to remove them from the mold (one truffle died bravely in my attempts to pry it out with a metal skewer) I tried one of the orange. It was like...like...like a real truffle! I forced one on my boyfriend, who made gratifyingly surprised sounds, and I wrapped up the remainder for my mom, the true chocolate connoisseur. *

Now today I keep looking over at them and then back at my little bowl of pineapple jello. I mean, I like jello. It's the closest thing to real food I'm allowed to eat for the next thirty hours. But the only thing it has in common with truffles is that they both come out of molds.

*EDIT: My mom was not enthusiastic. She felt the truffles were much too dark, with not enough mild flavor for contrast. *sigh*

It turns out...

I like medicine, but not when it's happening to me.

The main thing I remembered about metronidazole is that in our chart for bacteriology, it listed possible side effects: "GI upset" GI upset fails to describe the potential for stomach-knotting pain and uneasy nausea. Sadly, I didn't make it through the full 10 days, so the chances are I'll have to take something like it again. I spent most of my supposed vacation with family in Vegas huddled on a couch, while my GI microflora learned about living in a world with metronidazole. I was cheated out of three days of eating! In Las Vegas!

Now that I actually have doctors looking at my persistent anemia and vague GI symptoms, they want to do all sorts of things to me. The antibiotic was just the start. I spent the morning sitting in the gastro office, facing a very nice poster that details every thing that can go wrong with your digestive system from the esophagus down. I did not find it comforting.

If it were my dog (who, incidentally, ripped his scalp open yesterday and needed sutures) I would be all for finding a diagnosis. As it is, I have trouble. My constellation of symptoms indicate what I always suspected, that my GI tract is a lemon (more of an orange...I mean, it's worked okay so far). How do you fix that? It's not like you can replace it. I just spent a year and a half learning how irreplaceable the digestive system is. I also learned that imaging is often the biggest part of medicine. To illustrate this point, they have to look at my digestive system, which means endoscopes. Endoscopes mean sedation to the verge of unconsciousness, so I won't even be able to write it off as a learning experience. (someone, quick, invent an effective ultrasound scan!)

And I'm getting cheated out of two more days of eating. Hmph.

Cleancleanclean

Cleaning is proving to be a challenge. Yesterday was the easy bit--shuffling stuff from the living room until it was all in respective piles. Turns out it's hard to get beyond that point. Every surface is dusty, and choosing a spot to start sweeping is harder than it looks (the more motile dust bunnies escape to all four corners. Some of them take refuge on the carpet, which means I'm going to have to vaccuum too. I just vaccuumed a month ago!)

I also have a lot of recycling and garbage to take down to the basement. This sounds less intimidating than it really is. To take anything to the basement requires the unlocking and wrenching open of one door, traversing the stairs, and unlocking and shoving open a second door. It's not truly strenuous, but around the third trip I get really tired of the doors smugly slamming themselves shut as soon as I let go of the handle.

I took a break to make spritz cookies. I found the recipe in a batch of post-it notes on the refrigerator, which I think have been there for two years. Yum, spritz. Butter! I ate three or four and my tongue went numb, which I think means metronidazole is incompatible with almond extract. Pity. It's probably more important for me to finish the antibiotics than the cookies.

At least there's lots of commercial-free Christmas music on the radio!

Merry Christmas!

I'm on call today! I plan to get a lot of cleaning done. Due to the weather's decision to festively glaze every surface with ice, I won't be going anywhere (unless I get called in, of course). I got Christmas dinner though--my dad decided we were going to have roast, so I went home yesterday and helped prepare it (and eat it). Traditionally we have Yorkshire Beef on Christmas Eve. Yorkshire beef is essentially sloppy joe covered with eggy custard and cheese. It is delicious. But prime roast is better.

I got most of my grades back. Still waiting for Pathology (not expecting anything stellar, just hoping to pass). It seems that I got a low B in each class. Wait...I got an AB in Epidemiology. It doesn't surprise me terribly, but I had hoped that the ancillary work in some of the classes would have compensated a bit more for the exams. Or vice versa.

But next semester...! I shall OWN parasitology! And clin path! Well, maybe not clin path. At least not "own", per se. More...borrow on a month-per-month basis?

But today: Christmas songs on the radio and exhaustive cleaning! And maybe a trip to the clinic.