1 Happy St

Recently I turned 29. I didn't really expect 29 to be a major milestone. I mean, 30 is right around the corner so 29 was sort of a non-event for me. In fact, several times since my 29th birthday, I've actually had to remind myself that I was 29.

And since I've needed to be reminded how old I am, my body has taken up the cause. It seems as though several of my organs have thrown in the towel all together. I haven't seen this kind of retreat since the French were invaded by the Girl Scouts.

About 6 weeks ago, I began to have some pain in my tummy (yes, I said tummy but I have two small children so it's allowed). I hadn't eaten anything weird and I wasn't really sick. It was more like a cramp in my side. It wasn't a horrible pain but it was constant. Being a member of the male sub-species, I of course came to the conclusion that the prudent thing to do would be ignore it and hope it goes away. Sort of like the French did with the Nazi's.

I'm going to take this time to expand a little on why I don't like going to the doctor. You see, I've never actually had a doctor fix something. I will go into the doctor with some ailment... and it doesn't matter what it is... headaches, nagging cough, severe chest pains... and the doctor will never... I mean NEVER.... be able to figure out what is wrong with me. And it's not just that one doctor is a moron. Every doctor I go to is unable to diagnose what is causing whatever it is I'm there for. Apparently, my body is a medical mystery. Case in point... I had a cough over the winter. "Oh like 4-5 days of coughing?" you ask? No. I mean the entire winter. I literally coughed from October until February. (Now might be a good time to tell you what wonderful people I work with, since they didn't kill me after listening to me hacking up a lung all winter. Although I did notice that Angie and Molly have been wearing their headphones a lot more frequently.) So anyway, the doctor never did figure out why I was coughing. I was treated for asthma, bronchitis, kennel cough, you name it... until it eventually just went away on its own. So the point is, I have not had great experiences with doctors. Doctors are like the French. They talk fancy and condescending, and they always leave me wondering where my day went.

So here we are... 3 doctors visits, one blood test, one urinalysis, one ultrasound, and 6 weeks later... and the pain is worse and they still don't know what is wrong with me. They thought it was gallstones. It wasn't. It acts like an appendacitis but usually that doesn't linger around for 6 weeks. The medical commmunity is as perplexed as a guy named Pierre in a self-defense class.

This has left me with a lot of time to poke around the internet looking for answers. WebMD is my favorite. Even if you don't think you're sick, just go to WebMD.com. Not only are you are sick, but you're also dying. And there's nothing that can be done to save you. (To donate your organs, click here.) Just wave the white flag... just like the French do (which makes me wonder... On the French flag, why did they bother adding the red and blue parts?).

I go in tomorrow for a CT scan. I didn't even know I had a CT but apparently I do, and it needs to be scanned. It's all a waste of time though, since I already know that they won't find anything. I'll just have to ignore it and hope it goes away.... like I do with the French.