Saturday April 24, 2004
I think something is afoot but it's still just an inkling. There was a voice message from my GP yesterday. Herself, even. To let me know that she had spoken to a specialist who was of the opinion it would take "some months" for me to recover from damage now suspected to have been caused by antibiotics. The hepatologist would be "reviewing" me after receiving the records my GP was hastily faxing over as well as the results of additional blood tests that had been orderd for early next week.
My weekly poking is about to become a wholesale blood-letting it seems.
Just to blow my poor head a bit more, my GP wanted me to confirm I had received the voice mail and to tell me that she was available to talk to me some more if I had questions. All of which sent my panic demons to straight to their rooms.
To myself I thought: I remember being treated this way by my doctors. Messages and interactions were conveyed with a measure of human understanding and concern. It has raised the bar on my expectations of my doctors and their office procedures and staff. Yes, me (I?) of the already high expectations.
These are just inklings, remember. As glad as I am to see that my displeasures were not without an effect, I am a little wary of the actual reasons for the change in treatment. Okay, so... high expections and skepticism. That's not a bad combination, now that I think about it.
I decided to put off consulting with my GYN in NC until the hepatologist has had a chance to answer some of my questions. (My GP would want to send me to the sadist I saw in the summer and I really don't want to argue with her about it.)
It's getting kind of chilly in here. It's supposed to snow two nights from now. Really. Check out the link if you don't believe me. My auxillary heater is great for one room at a time. AND when the tank is not empty. It's 63 F / 17 C here in the north facing room. The floor is the worst, though. Those of you living in properly appointed basement apartments (you know who you are): erase the existence of subfloor from your understanding of the world of construction. Now, just imagine vinyl tiles laid smack on top of the concrete.
Right. So basically, there's this heat sink that starts about 10 inches from the floor. I just moved from the warmed up living room to this one so I could post this earth shattering entry. And the tank died. So I'm letting it cool off before I feed it again. (Just in case you were getting ready to tell me off for bitching about the cold if I hadn't fixed the heater.) :^P
Which reminds me of the association everyone in the world makes. Okay, maybe not everyone, but a great majority of people. When I tell them, or you do, if you're the one doing this that you are from Canada, they will invariably remind you that "It's cold there, isn't it?". Yeah, or maybe they're smart enough to know that anyone who doesn't think it's cold in Canada can't have lived there for any length of time.
And then you (or I) will say: "Oh yes. It sure is cold there."
Raise your hand if you have been the Canadian side of this. Wow, that's quite a few. So that's what Canada's reputation amounts to 99 percent of the time: cold. Maybe we could save ink and other supplies if we just adopted that as the name of the place: Cold. See, we don't just live in a cold place - we live in the cold place. By reputation only, however, because everyone knows there are cold parts within other places around the globe.
Canada, I should say Cold, is a place about which you'll hear people tell others that there are warm parts within her borders in a futile effort to defend her honour.
As if the country's reputation rests in having some warm parts. But how could that be, since Canada's reputation is that of cold? Shit, now I've got myself confused again. I'm going back to the warm part of my place and light Dixie's fireplace.
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