Ah, what a day. I was glutenized. It all began when I overslept on Friday and was unable to pack a lunch, as is my habit. Took a chance and ate in the cafeteria at work. Had a bit of a headache later, but that is normal due to chemical sensitivities and the coworkers who insist on wearing perfumes. I was tired on Saturday. Sunday, at lunch, it peaked. The cramping was excruciating. My hands tingled and I lost control over
moving my fingers. I don't understand why my gluten reactions mostly
happen in the large colon. It will take weeks to heal this episode. Owww, my poor belly.
A war begins. Ugh. My spouse owns a property I affectionately call 'The Shed'. It is a dilapidated and run down mess. The roof is collapsing, the wooden floor is warped and sagging, mice and roaches are the currents tenants.That is not the worse. My spouse is a collector (hoarder). It is full of bits and pieces, most not valuable. The benign sort of 'Wow, someone got rid of this! I can fix it up and sell/use this.' Time passes and the value that might of existed is drained away through neglect.
Tomorrow. I had a child out of wedlock. My parents made me (Then) give her up for adoption. The me (Now) would have not gone along so acquiescently. I remember avoiding the nursery since I knew she was not mine (Then). She was (Now). A few times I attempted to guess in which of the bassinets along the wall she lay. She started life in the back of the class. I should have asked to see her. She was of me, from me. Could-a, would-a, should-a.
The dilemma? I want to start a search. Unfortunately, the adoption was arranged in a 'closed records' state. I put contact info in her file years ago, but no strangers have knocked on the door. She is 37. Old enough to have unanswered questions. Maybe no one told her. What then?
As I have mentioned other times, I have poor memory. Perhaps it is a consequence of the fibromyalgia I struggle with most days. Perhaps it is a blessing from above to wake unhindered from past mistakes, regrets, and sorrows.
"Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door. --Saul Bellow
Ah-OOO ooo oooo oo. I can hear them howling. Insignificance panting on the horizon. Poor memory made me struggle to remember the birth father's name, a boyfriend my junior year of high school. After a few hours of Internet searching, I found him. Facebook. Duh. He recently moved back to the scene of the crime. Also opened that Facebook account. Serendipity. So what now? Do I contact him? To what end? I am searching my motive. Time enough in the tomorrows.
Today. The spouse had the follow up appointment for his edema. We never got the results. His complaints started shortly after we arrived. The customary bitching about the appointment time is merely a suggestion for the doctor. Okay. I agreed, but that is reality. It was bla-bla-bitch all the time in the examining room. After two hours he said outta here and off we go. On the ride home, he says he better not be charged for this visit. Like it is my job to fix that! He did wonder if I would have any repercussions from his actions. Nope, I am not the one acting like an ass. My coworkers know my character. It did amuse me when he ranted the doctor could now call him at home with the results. If only...
Yesterday. I miss waking daily to see my daughter and grandboy. My trip east was restorative. I felt real. I returned to the facade. I want to be there, not here. *Howl*
Saturday’s Child--by Countee Cullen
Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black raccoon—
For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.
For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;
Dame Poverty gave me my name,
And Pain godfathered me.
For I was born on Saturday—
“Bad time for planting a seed,”
Was all my father had to say,
And, “One mouth more to feed.”
Death cut the strings that gave me life,
And handed me to Sorrow,
The only kind of middle wife
My folks could beg or borrow.
I can't understand some patients. Friday, I take a call from the doctor's office requesting a STAT abdominal ultrasound. Unfortunately, Patient has eaten. When I explained I can schedule for next week, I get Doctor on the line. Suspected appendicitis. (Made me pissy, not one time did MA mention a diagnosis. Appendicitis = major buzz word and gets you all kind of free passes.) I know my job and food with an abdominal ultrasound usually does not get Patient in the door. Would Doctor like to order a CT? No, too much radiation? No problem. Let me talk to the department.
One ringy dingy. Radiologist did not feel 'comfortable' doing the ultrasound (he wanted a CT, bingo! Score one for me). Patient is sent home until Radiologist Dos returns from lunch in an hour. I got a contact number for Doctor and Patient. *Jeopardy theme*
Two ringy dingies. Radiologist Dos is agreeable to do ultrasound. I call Patient and a young man answers. Patient is shopping at Walmart with Aunt and did not take contact phone. OMG. I quickly regroup and hope I can find another contact number in Patient's account when I schedule the exam. I called Grandmother, got Aunt's phone number and yes, they are on their way. Whew *relief*.
One hour later--A call from Ultrasound Tech reminding me she leaves in 30 minutes. Do I know where Patient is? OMG! Another call. Patient went to get Mother. They will be here shortly.
Now two hours later--I take a call from Doctor's office. He has not received the report for his patient. OMG! Informed MA, Patient has not arrived. MA states it was made clear to Patient the severity of the situation, but she will tell Doctor.
Forty minutes later--Patient arrives. Ultrasound Tech will have to be called in on overtime. Patient, Patient's Boyfriend and Mother barely made it before Radiologist Dos left for the weekend. I tell myself to stay in my office because I have many choice words I could spew to the Patient and Mother. Don't waste my time. Don't waste your Doctor's. Don't receive special concessions for your sake and not appreciate them. What was so important at Walmart? I had to peek. Not one grimace of pain on Patient's face. Mother looked irritated. Boyfriend must be there to return cell phone. Save Money, Live Better.
