To hear about the visit with the almighty doctor at UCSF. What exactly did the the Wizard of Oz have to say? What was it like being in that
creepy looking building that loomed in the distance when I lived in the Outer Sunset? Grab a beer, a comfy seat, and read up.
My brother drove my mom and I over. I pressed my face against passenger side window, tried not to feel queasy, and hid teary eyes behind my totally fucking awesome checkerboard Kanye West sunglasses. Even though I knew going to UCSF was the beginning of finding the answers I need to get better, I just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. We zigzagged through Hayes Valley, Nopa, Upper Haight, and then through Cole Valley, I kept fighting the urge to jump out of the car and run. We finally drove up the last hill, pulled up in front of 350 Parnassus Ave, and I slunked out of the car and shuffled up to the large glass doors and up to the elevator.
The office itself wasn't anything special. Very much a small, cramped office on the corner of the fourth floor with a "built in the 70s" kind of vibe. The grumpy, Russian receptionist shoved paperwork at me. I filled it out and joined my mom on a chair in the waiting room. There were a couple of random cougars were giving me the tv eye. It was a rare instance where I wished I would have had the one and only Captain Chase Corum at my side instead of my mom, but then I realized that the cheap Tiffany's jewelry wearing ladies prolly aren't that into low rent thirty something dudes that like stoner metal. Finally the nurse came and got me and away we went.
The nurse practitioner grilled me about my health for about half an hour before bringing me into an exam room and giving me really the first thorough exam I have gotten from any doctor since this whole fucking mess started. After she wrapped that up, the man, the myth, the legend, the guy I crawled out of the hood for, finally came in to see me. He asked me if I had any other significant illnesses throughout life, and about other circumstances surrounding me life at the time of the onset of all these problems. At the end of the conversation, his prognosis is that there is most definitely something wrong with me, but can't distinguish whether it's a huge, horrific problem, or a smaller issue that has magnified over time due to stress and time passing. He ordered an ultrasound of my gall bladder, another gall bladder specific test, some more specific blood tests, and a second endoscopy with a specific small intestine biopsy. He told me to unrestrict my diet because he wants to see my body at it's most annoyed and fucked up. He wants the best samples he can get. We all shook hands, I got another prescription for nausea suppositories (the sexiest way to feel better), and I headed back to my grandparents' apartment.
Was it a victory? Sure. Is it a the start of the end? Possibly. But no matter what you call it, I'm still waiting. I had an amazing day yesterday cruising around Oakland with friends and I felt pretty good, but I started my morning by throwing up and had to take a 3 hour time out from socializing to throw up again and rehydrate.. Today I left my cousins housewarming party and seeing a lot of my family because I didn't feel bloody diarhea was an appropriate house warming gift for my cousin Tony.
Tomorrow a close friend comes back into town, and Monday I schedule all my tests. I am trying to change the tide of my feelings and get my hope to find an end to this nightmare, but I can't put my head in the clouds when my guts decide to rip my back down to Earth and into my grandfather's black tiled bathroom.
Sorry for the missed day. I'll get back to my daily blog hustle tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment