"... but that's old news."
I love you, Meat Puppets. And yes, Nirvana, but please people... go check out Meat Puppets II - it's where it all started.
So... no real results until tomorrow, but for now, the preliminary results: (drum roll, please)........ nothing wrong!
Sigh. If another doctor tells me, "whelp, it's not this!," I am going to punch him in the jaw. Especially after having had to "clean out" my system two weeks in a row, with a stomach/abdominal attack (that lasted longer than any one of them yet) in between.
So far, so little information. Hopefully we'll know more tomorrow. But like I said, Doctor Brown (a new one, this one the X-ray Guy) was optimistic he didn't see anything wrong. Which worries me.
Mom is convinced then that it's either my gall bladder (a point she made on my first trip to the emergency room, almost 6 weeks ago now) or a stomach ulcer - my original thought, and the reason why I went to my family doctor two months ago.
Thankfully, mom and I aren't doctors, but seriously, if this ends up being one of those two things, that, AHEM, the patient has MENTIONED time and again since the beginning of this ordeal... I'm gonna havta call Wayne Brady. And Wayne Brady is gonna havta smack a bitch!
4.27.2009
"Should I Turn On My Religion?"
"These demons in my head tell me to..."
The lyrics above - both the post title and the first line in the post - come from the Dream Theater song "Voices," long one of my favorites. For some reason, I woke up with the song "Lie" in my head, and grabbed the band's album Awake to listen to on my journeys this morning.
I had to make a trip downtown this morning, to Methodist and a place called Tower Surgical, for a consultation. It seems my stomach/abdominal issues have wrecked havoc on more than just my bowels. And with a name like Tower Surgical, I kind of had an idea what they'd be wanting to talk to me about.
Thankfully, my doctor was a friendly, older man who made me feel about as comfortable about surgery (something that profoundly freaks me the frack out) as I possibly could. We talked about the procedure, recovery time, and so on. He listened, too, which is always a good thing. Aside from the parking garage only taking cash - who does that any more?!? - the experience wasn't quite the pain in the ass I thought it would be - ahem.
But, I digress. Driving downtown, and back to my pharmacy on the far west side of Plainfield, and then back to the west side of Indianapolis for work gave me ample of time to listen to Awake. Nearly in it's entirity, which is saying something - the damn thing is nearly 75 minutes long. Like, I think they invented 80 minute compact discs because of this thing. I skipped around a lot, but just missed most of "Innocence Faded."
As I was driving and listening to "Voices," the lines "Should I turn on my religion/ these demons in my head tell me to..." hit me particularly hard. After having a bit of a "relapse" this past winter, I really haven't been very religious at all. I really haven't been touched or moved by religion since my friend Andrew (a Methodist pastor, and once a very good friend and like-minded, deep-thinking individual) and I had a falling out. I reckon this probably had to do with the fact that he was stronger in his beliefs, and lead me to think a certain way. Separate the sheep from the flock... and he easily gets lost, so they say.
I didn't abandon my beliefs all at once, and I am not sure I would say I have "abandoned" them now. Rather, my perspective has slowly changed, as has my life and experiences. Whereas before I had a deep-seated belief in God as savior, goodness, instructor, risk-taker, and a mover and shaker in the world, now... I simply don't. God, to me, is... something, something untangible. Not unreal, but just... distant.
The good Christian will chide me and say, "No, Dusty, it is YOU who is distant from God, not the other way around." But, alas, distance is distance. I can be no less than a mile away from God if he is no less than a mile away from me, and vice versa. I do still pray, though I don't necessarily believe in prayer any more than I do the Easter bunny. I recognize Jesus as a prophet, though I doubt the relational experience so many people rave about that I just truly have never felt in my heart. I do think God speaks to us, every single one of us, but only when we ARE looking for it, as in a sunset or a smile.
My discussions with Cory, Rachel, Joe, Mike, recently Olivia, and earlier Andy, all continue to, not influence me, but rather encourage me to continue to explore, to find the limits of my beliefs, the comfort zones and the danger zones. Music, as always, plays its part, sometimes quite largely. I have always been a fan of passion, and some Christian music is very passionate, very moving, deep and thoughtful. Some of my favorite bands are Christian or have had religious ties (though that aren't ever the truly popular ones).
I have always been a bit of a seeker, a searcher. It is only until recently when my fear of "letting down God" has subsided enough for me to face the truth - I have lost the faith I once had. Or, rather, that faith has changed, is being placed in other things, other... people. And myself. Friends, family, and myself.
God as a grand creator appeals to me, in a very real, spiritual way. The ebb and flow of the ocean tides, the stars and the moon, the swaying, green praries and the far, nigh-unreachable mountain tops remind me daily that we were created by something, something grand and big and beautiful. But... a good grandfather doesn't just dole out candy to the kids. Actually, the grandfather metaphor doesn't even work, at all really.
God as benevolent grandfather is myth. God as Father is a myth. God as mover and shaker is a myth. God as healer, comforter... myth. Or maybe he is. How the hell should I know? (see, I still have a hard time completely letting go... sigh)
This is what I know... in the last few weeks, when I have hurt so bad that I got delusional, and started honestly thinking that drilling a hole in my stomach to relieve the pressure was a good idea, I prayed. I prayed the pain would go away. And, it didn't. When a table saw to the gut sounded less like a horror flick and more like heaven-sent, and I prayed for some release of the pain and the madness it produced... the prayers were not answered. So... God chose me to suffer, instead? That doesn't line up with a caring, comforting, healing God.
Olivia had some wonderful things to say about this, with her own experiences and her father's failing health. It was good to speak to her. She had many thoughtful things to say. Rachel, too, has had a lot of things to say recently - not as in depth, and more towards the other end of the spectrum of belief, but thoughtful nonetheless. Each of us carries our own life experiences to God and religion, and so each of us carries something different away from those same places.
As for me... I still hold out hope that God, if anything, is love. I desperately want him to be a doddering old fool of a grandfather, with few teeth but a lovely smile, old, wrinkled hands, a papery smell and a worn old sweater. I want him to look at me when I die and say, "You did well - you had to learn your lessons the hard way, but it was a good life. You loved, your learned, you lived. That's all you were meant to do." And I want that to be the truth.
So the rules, the prayers, the scriptures and the crushing doubt that always stands in my shadows, I can do without them. The calling out in the middle of the night for some release for the pain, I can do without that. The silent, shaking hands, clasped in dire need or want of something, some goodness, I might get by without it. I think God loves us. I just don't think he moves and shakes, at least not very much, not any more. He's a good God, but not a gentle one. He set the world to spin, and sometimes, it spins out of control, and we just have to hold on. We make our way in the world, the best way we know how.
For all the pain, there is some goodness. For all the suffering, there is peace and hope. We love, we learn, we live.
It scares me to death to post this, not because I fear for me. I'm afraid God will steal someone I love away. As punishment. And God really shouldn't be like that. It's a sad state of affairs, that religion has made of my mind and my heart. Sigh.
The lyrics above - both the post title and the first line in the post - come from the Dream Theater song "Voices," long one of my favorites. For some reason, I woke up with the song "Lie" in my head, and grabbed the band's album Awake to listen to on my journeys this morning.
I had to make a trip downtown this morning, to Methodist and a place called Tower Surgical, for a consultation. It seems my stomach/abdominal issues have wrecked havoc on more than just my bowels. And with a name like Tower Surgical, I kind of had an idea what they'd be wanting to talk to me about.
Thankfully, my doctor was a friendly, older man who made me feel about as comfortable about surgery (something that profoundly freaks me the frack out) as I possibly could. We talked about the procedure, recovery time, and so on. He listened, too, which is always a good thing. Aside from the parking garage only taking cash - who does that any more?!? - the experience wasn't quite the pain in the ass I thought it would be - ahem.
But, I digress. Driving downtown, and back to my pharmacy on the far west side of Plainfield, and then back to the west side of Indianapolis for work gave me ample of time to listen to Awake. Nearly in it's entirity, which is saying something - the damn thing is nearly 75 minutes long. Like, I think they invented 80 minute compact discs because of this thing. I skipped around a lot, but just missed most of "Innocence Faded."
As I was driving and listening to "Voices," the lines "Should I turn on my religion/ these demons in my head tell me to..." hit me particularly hard. After having a bit of a "relapse" this past winter, I really haven't been very religious at all. I really haven't been touched or moved by religion since my friend Andrew (a Methodist pastor, and once a very good friend and like-minded, deep-thinking individual) and I had a falling out. I reckon this probably had to do with the fact that he was stronger in his beliefs, and lead me to think a certain way. Separate the sheep from the flock... and he easily gets lost, so they say.
I didn't abandon my beliefs all at once, and I am not sure I would say I have "abandoned" them now. Rather, my perspective has slowly changed, as has my life and experiences. Whereas before I had a deep-seated belief in God as savior, goodness, instructor, risk-taker, and a mover and shaker in the world, now... I simply don't. God, to me, is... something, something untangible. Not unreal, but just... distant.
The good Christian will chide me and say, "No, Dusty, it is YOU who is distant from God, not the other way around." But, alas, distance is distance. I can be no less than a mile away from God if he is no less than a mile away from me, and vice versa. I do still pray, though I don't necessarily believe in prayer any more than I do the Easter bunny. I recognize Jesus as a prophet, though I doubt the relational experience so many people rave about that I just truly have never felt in my heart. I do think God speaks to us, every single one of us, but only when we ARE looking for it, as in a sunset or a smile.
My discussions with Cory, Rachel, Joe, Mike, recently Olivia, and earlier Andy, all continue to, not influence me, but rather encourage me to continue to explore, to find the limits of my beliefs, the comfort zones and the danger zones. Music, as always, plays its part, sometimes quite largely. I have always been a fan of passion, and some Christian music is very passionate, very moving, deep and thoughtful. Some of my favorite bands are Christian or have had religious ties (though that aren't ever the truly popular ones).
I have always been a bit of a seeker, a searcher. It is only until recently when my fear of "letting down God" has subsided enough for me to face the truth - I have lost the faith I once had. Or, rather, that faith has changed, is being placed in other things, other... people. And myself. Friends, family, and myself.
God as a grand creator appeals to me, in a very real, spiritual way. The ebb and flow of the ocean tides, the stars and the moon, the swaying, green praries and the far, nigh-unreachable mountain tops remind me daily that we were created by something, something grand and big and beautiful. But... a good grandfather doesn't just dole out candy to the kids. Actually, the grandfather metaphor doesn't even work, at all really.
God as benevolent grandfather is myth. God as Father is a myth. God as mover and shaker is a myth. God as healer, comforter... myth. Or maybe he is. How the hell should I know? (see, I still have a hard time completely letting go... sigh)
This is what I know... in the last few weeks, when I have hurt so bad that I got delusional, and started honestly thinking that drilling a hole in my stomach to relieve the pressure was a good idea, I prayed. I prayed the pain would go away. And, it didn't. When a table saw to the gut sounded less like a horror flick and more like heaven-sent, and I prayed for some release of the pain and the madness it produced... the prayers were not answered. So... God chose me to suffer, instead? That doesn't line up with a caring, comforting, healing God.
Olivia had some wonderful things to say about this, with her own experiences and her father's failing health. It was good to speak to her. She had many thoughtful things to say. Rachel, too, has had a lot of things to say recently - not as in depth, and more towards the other end of the spectrum of belief, but thoughtful nonetheless. Each of us carries our own life experiences to God and religion, and so each of us carries something different away from those same places.
As for me... I still hold out hope that God, if anything, is love. I desperately want him to be a doddering old fool of a grandfather, with few teeth but a lovely smile, old, wrinkled hands, a papery smell and a worn old sweater. I want him to look at me when I die and say, "You did well - you had to learn your lessons the hard way, but it was a good life. You loved, your learned, you lived. That's all you were meant to do." And I want that to be the truth.
So the rules, the prayers, the scriptures and the crushing doubt that always stands in my shadows, I can do without them. The calling out in the middle of the night for some release for the pain, I can do without that. The silent, shaking hands, clasped in dire need or want of something, some goodness, I might get by without it. I think God loves us. I just don't think he moves and shakes, at least not very much, not any more. He's a good God, but not a gentle one. He set the world to spin, and sometimes, it spins out of control, and we just have to hold on. We make our way in the world, the best way we know how.
For all the pain, there is some goodness. For all the suffering, there is peace and hope. We love, we learn, we live.
It scares me to death to post this, not because I fear for me. I'm afraid God will steal someone I love away. As punishment. And God really shouldn't be like that. It's a sad state of affairs, that religion has made of my mind and my heart. Sigh.
4.26.2009
Guessing Games
Well. I haven't written on here very much - at all? - about what has been going on in my life lately. Not that I have many readers - 2, 3? - and not that they don't already know...
Over the last two months, I've been having some severe stomach/abdominal pains. About a month and a half ago, it got so bad after three intense days that I had my parents take me to the emergency room. Some morphine and a CT scan later... they decided I did not have Appendicitis. Or a bad gall bladder (so they said). The word that they mentioned was Colitis, and possible Crohn's Disease. I was recommended to a gastro-intestinal specialist, given some Vicodin for the pain and some antibiotics to kill the inflammation they saw in my large and small intestines.
Well, I saw that doctor, and he recommended I have a test done where they stick a tube down my throat, blow dye into my stomach and bowels, and do a CT scan to see the results. He also said if I was feeling better, I could play the "wait and see" game. I didn't want to have to blow my system out with drugs to get ready for the test - I was already having lower bowel pain and issues from all the sickness, as it were - so I decided to play wait and see.
(INTERJECTION: for clarity's sake - I was not supposed to eat spicy or greasy foods, which I did my best to stay away from, for the most part. Also, the pain - my stomach hurts in general, but there is also a severe cramping and bloating that comes with it. Sometimes the bloating gets so bad that I feel like my insides surely will burst, and sometimes, I wish that would happen, as some kind of release from the pain. Read more below. End Interjection.)
Long story short: I was back in the emergency room within a week, almost two weeks exactly since the first time. I called my family doctor to get more meds, to no avail. The gastro-intestinal doctor denied me meds, too, and said to go to the emergency room (or so his nurse said). So, back to the ER I went, where I had another CT scan (this time with contrast dye) after a failed half-hour of trying to get my IV in. I ended up getting sick and vomitting in the hospital, after which I felt much better.
The second emergency visit prompted my stomach doctor to rush me in for... a colonoscopy. Now, I really had to blow my system out. This was about two weeks ago. It was miserable, I was and still am so sore from all the havoc wrecked on my system. Long story short: they found two polyps, sent away for biopsy, came back negative. No cancer, no evidence of Crohn's disease or Inflammatory Bowel Disease. I was given a clean bill of health - this past Tuesday.
So why did my pain return on Thursday? Part of it is surely my fault - I ate pizza on Tuesday night, I was so hungry (couldn't eat for 36+ hours) and I was craving something tasty. But, they said all the inflammation was gone, no trace of it. So, I thought, in essence, I was cured.
Turns out they may have been looking in the wrong place.
Since the ER does me little good - it's basically a chance to get high powered pain meds like Morphine, which works incredibly well but wears off and doesn't prevent the pain from returning - I decided to tough it out this weekend when the ailment returned.
Now I've got an appointment, as a consultation, to deal with my destroyed lower bowels on Monday, and the original Stomach Dye test that I turned down on Tuesday. Hopefully, we'll start figuring out what this IS, and not what it is NOT.
In the meantime... I am trying to keep my spirits up. This has been the first really bad medical thing I have had to go through. It's starting to get to me, to get into my head a little bit. I can't describe that... it's just odd to not be able to escape your pain. Pain medicines, the ones you buy over the counter, even the Vicodin they gave me, they all don't really work. They just tear my system up even more, which starts this whole thing over again.
For now, I am hanging in there. My life has been pretty disrupted, but I am game for the next steps... hopefully they can find out what is wrong, we can treat it, and I can move on. Keep your fingers crossed.
Over the last two months, I've been having some severe stomach/abdominal pains. About a month and a half ago, it got so bad after three intense days that I had my parents take me to the emergency room. Some morphine and a CT scan later... they decided I did not have Appendicitis. Or a bad gall bladder (so they said). The word that they mentioned was Colitis, and possible Crohn's Disease. I was recommended to a gastro-intestinal specialist, given some Vicodin for the pain and some antibiotics to kill the inflammation they saw in my large and small intestines.
Well, I saw that doctor, and he recommended I have a test done where they stick a tube down my throat, blow dye into my stomach and bowels, and do a CT scan to see the results. He also said if I was feeling better, I could play the "wait and see" game. I didn't want to have to blow my system out with drugs to get ready for the test - I was already having lower bowel pain and issues from all the sickness, as it were - so I decided to play wait and see.
(INTERJECTION: for clarity's sake - I was not supposed to eat spicy or greasy foods, which I did my best to stay away from, for the most part. Also, the pain - my stomach hurts in general, but there is also a severe cramping and bloating that comes with it. Sometimes the bloating gets so bad that I feel like my insides surely will burst, and sometimes, I wish that would happen, as some kind of release from the pain. Read more below. End Interjection.)
Long story short: I was back in the emergency room within a week, almost two weeks exactly since the first time. I called my family doctor to get more meds, to no avail. The gastro-intestinal doctor denied me meds, too, and said to go to the emergency room (or so his nurse said). So, back to the ER I went, where I had another CT scan (this time with contrast dye) after a failed half-hour of trying to get my IV in. I ended up getting sick and vomitting in the hospital, after which I felt much better.
The second emergency visit prompted my stomach doctor to rush me in for... a colonoscopy. Now, I really had to blow my system out. This was about two weeks ago. It was miserable, I was and still am so sore from all the havoc wrecked on my system. Long story short: they found two polyps, sent away for biopsy, came back negative. No cancer, no evidence of Crohn's disease or Inflammatory Bowel Disease. I was given a clean bill of health - this past Tuesday.
So why did my pain return on Thursday? Part of it is surely my fault - I ate pizza on Tuesday night, I was so hungry (couldn't eat for 36+ hours) and I was craving something tasty. But, they said all the inflammation was gone, no trace of it. So, I thought, in essence, I was cured.
Turns out they may have been looking in the wrong place.
Since the ER does me little good - it's basically a chance to get high powered pain meds like Morphine, which works incredibly well but wears off and doesn't prevent the pain from returning - I decided to tough it out this weekend when the ailment returned.
Now I've got an appointment, as a consultation, to deal with my destroyed lower bowels on Monday, and the original Stomach Dye test that I turned down on Tuesday. Hopefully, we'll start figuring out what this IS, and not what it is NOT.
In the meantime... I am trying to keep my spirits up. This has been the first really bad medical thing I have had to go through. It's starting to get to me, to get into my head a little bit. I can't describe that... it's just odd to not be able to escape your pain. Pain medicines, the ones you buy over the counter, even the Vicodin they gave me, they all don't really work. They just tear my system up even more, which starts this whole thing over again.
For now, I am hanging in there. My life has been pretty disrupted, but I am game for the next steps... hopefully they can find out what is wrong, we can treat it, and I can move on. Keep your fingers crossed.
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