While I've yet to get sick, I haven't been able to eat the amount I could a week ago, and there have been a couple of incidences where I had to sit up for two hours, sip on water and wait for my pills to go down. It only makes sense that the scar tissue from the ulcer is causing another stricture.
Conversation with Mom:
MOTHER: What did the doctor's office say?
ME: Oh wait till you hear, this is a good one.
Conversation with nurse
ME: I notice I've been having difficulty and eating less and less.
NURSE: Have you been vomiting?
ME: No because I've had 4 prior strictures and recognize the symptoms.
NURSE: So you don't think it's a stricture.
ME: Yes I do!
NURSE: So have you been vomiting?
ME: Noooooo... I understand the symptoms and stop before I get sick.
End of nurse conversation
*Mother laughing in the background*
ME: I need smart people.
MOTHER: Well unfortunately these are the types of folks who, while at the drive- up at Wendy's, are staring blankly and looking around trying to figure out where that voice is coming from.
ME: God is that you? Yes I do want to supersize it!
I bet they won't call, I hope they all get Genital Warts.
MOTHER: Well, we can pray for it.
ME: Genital Warts
For you and me
They're soft and squishy
And they never leave
MOTHER: *still laughing* You've cheered me up now.
ME: Well I still ain't!
A couple weeks ago we went back to Fresno for my follow-up. I came prepared with the whole gang in tow. It would seem Dr. Felix's office has yet to send anything to my personal physician. I joked with her and said I'd probably have to take a gun to actually get 'em to fax anything.
First they weighed me and this was AFTER I wazzed. If you'll remember I weighed 342 two weeks prior at the hospital. Their scale said 368. How in God's name is that possible? Once I got home, and this was after drinking water and eatin a chicken strip, my scale said 351. I would imagine their scale purposely weighs higher in order to fool the insurance companies for those who are on the borderline. Nice...
Of course, upon entry, Dr. Swartz once again gets my name wrong. He then proceeds to tell us that a stricture could happen again, but it's very rare to need a second dilation. I hollered, "I HAD FOUR!" He says, "Oh yeah, that's right. Well if you get another one there's nothing to it. You just call us up and we'll dilate it again."
Nothing to it... I'd like to see him go through all that pain and frustration. He then says, "And when you were hospitalized you were just a lil dehydrated. Nothing serious."
Nothing serious... The nurse had told my Mother I was a very sick gurl -- my electrolytes and blood sugar were below sea level. I was nearly in a comatose state.
Dad pointed out that my doctor had not received a peep from them and Dr. Swartz said, "Oh yes, we'll send a summary letter of what has occurred." I piped up, "Oh no! You're not just gonna send some little letter saying hey we cut on her and everything's fine now *thumbsup*. Send her details." He interrupts me and says, "We'll send a letter," sounding all snippy. Cocksucker.
He asked how my depression was and I asked him, "How do ya think it is? It's purty damn frustrating having these complications all the time." He walked towards me and tentatively reached out to shake my hand, fearful that I might pop a grenade in it and hold on real tight.
So after I mowed everyone down in the building with my machine gun, we left.
Actually one nice thing did happen while I was there: There was a gal and her Mother waiting for a consultation. They asked if I had the surgery and how it went, and I told 'em the truth. By the end of the story the poor gal was ready to leap outta her chair and make a run for it so I told her, "I'm not saying you should be terrified of this surgery -- just respect it." Her Mother asked if I would do it all over again and I said yes. If I could snap my fingers and suddenly be back to normal, I'd be crammin hamburgers, pizza, shakes, and so so many sandwiches into my mouth.
My dear therapist, like everyone else, is purty pissy with the folks up in Fresno and wants me to get a second opinion. I had tried to see Dr. Mark Vierra who is here in Monterey, but his secretary told me that he would never see patients who already had the surgery.
BUT!
During the end of our session my therapist hopped up and said, "Let's do something proactive." She called Dr. Olsen, who I had seen a lil over a year ago about this surgery, told the receptionist about my problems and asked if she would refer me to Dr. Vierra. *sniff* my hero. A few days later Dr. Vierra's office called to set up an appointment, but unfortunately no matter who ya are, new patients have to wait for six months for their first appointment -- sometime in August.
Well so much for that. I poked around on Google for awhile, but turns out there ain't no such thing as a stricture expert. So I'm screwed.
Also, after scouring through the library on this site I've concluded I have something called reactive hypoglycemia. Basically if I don't get in enough carbohydrates I get shaky, dizzy, fussy and cranky. Just another complication no one bothered to tell me about. I also received a few letters from gals who've had the same problem with strictures. While all their symptoms and frustrations seemed to mimic my own (I think it's ironic my problem is that I'm too damn healthy -- my scar tissue tends to form very quickly.),unfortunately I didn't find them entirely encouraging. One poor gal after several, several dilations had a revision and is STILL having problems.
I have to admit I'm not in the best frame of mind. I tend to lie around in bed a lot -- mainly because I can't think of one good reason to get up. The other night when I was havin trouble getting anything down. Mother asked if Dad had eaten the chicken strips. I said, "No, why?" She asked if it was ok if she ate 'em. I told her, "Lady I don't care if you eat 'em. I don't care if the cat eats them, but it's purty damn clear I can't eat 'em. So go nuts. And while you're at it, have a drink for me. Have two." Then it hit me! "Hey I could have vodka and Pedialyte!"
It's now a quarter to 6 and I'm so gonna win 50 bucks.
