There is no good explanation but I don’t have an ulcer. I’m glad, of course, but there is something satisfying about giving my maladies a name. I found out I had bipolar and thought, “Of course.” It was through tears. I will never forget my call to my dad. I called him on his office phone and blurted out, “Daddy, I have bipolar.” and he said “This is Fred Seymore” again. (obviously not his real name.) At that point, I knew, through tears, that this all was real. If I told my dad, it was real. If I had a name for myself, it must be real.
I was on a pay phone (remember those?) off of one of those very wealthy little towns in the middle of our large, metropolitan area. I am crying in to the phone. I tell him to call mom. I hang up the phone to go to the hospital and some guy in a great big truck offers me to become more than friends. I declined.
Things got a little complicated and sketchy at that point. My trip to the hospital was relaxing and useful. They didn’t cure me but I came out with something I hadn’t had for a while – that thing would be hope. That diagnosis -note I didn’t say ‘label’ made me believe one day I could be better.
So, when I thought I had a ulcer, things were good. I had been throwing up as much as six times in two weeks. I had nausea most of the time. Once or twice I was met with severe abdominal pain. It was way more painful than my epidural free birth-experience.
So, I went to the radiologist and I drank some alka-seltzer type medicine and I was told not to burp. Then I drank this thick, barium treat. My stomach looked like a large jelly fish. The doctor was funny, vivacious and carefree. She was the one who told me I had esophageal spasms but not a whole lot else.
So, my new option is probably going to the drag oneself from specialist to specialist. I will get more blood drawn. I will probably throw up randomly.
The truth is, I don’t have that kinda time to manage another illness. I don’t want to spend hours in waiting rooms, screwing with my diet and staying away from whatever foods. I have an inkling that fruit juice might make me sick and I’ll quit drinking that, but am not prepared to cut out fruit completely.
That’s all for now,