So, it turns out my ravaged digestive tract was not being caused by the new meds. The meds are history, and I still can barely eat, barely do more than lie on my couch, wrapped in the afghan mom knit me, and be served by Lars and the kids (hey -- I could get used to this)!
The good news is, I lost ten pounds in the past two weeks. The bad new is -- ugh.
So on Thursday I am having an endoscopy. For someone with a peculiar fear of things going too far back in the throat this is quite anxiety producing.
"You'll be asleep," the young woman in scheduling assured me.
"Like, asleep?" I said.
"Well, not asleep, but kind of."
I have a suspicion it's candida. This whole thing started with thrush.
(I know what you're saying. "Ew! TMI!)
That's my suspicion. My fear is, CANCER. But that is always my fear. That and meningitis.
Any suspicious ache has me running for WebMD. Hey, I have good reason for this. My sister died of cancer.
Oh, I'm scared of heart attack too. And suffocation. I'm very attached to breathing for some reason.
So I'm taking Ativan as much as I am allowed to and waiting impatiently for this whole thing to be over.
But here is the funny part (and please note the title of this post, credit for which is due to my clever husband): both Lars and my brother are scheduled for colonoscopies in the next couple of weeks. Both had slightly concerning but probably benign symptoms.
What are the odds that all three of us have cancer of the digestive tract? I'm hoping very, very low. When this is all over and the three of us are joking about it I'll let you know.