Walrussian Alert!!! Medical Content Ahead! I tried to post about something else but this is what's on my mind so this is what you get. Also, I've tweeted about it and it's hard to explain in 140 characters.
What's the difference between being calm and being too tired to care?
I think I'm happily settling back into zombie mode. For a few days, I woke up a bit and it seemed nice. But then I cared too much about things and it wore me out. Giving a damn is exhausting!
Yesterday, I saw the doctor for this fantastic video strobe which was totally not what I thought it was going to be. I was all prepared to flip out about numbing my nose and throat so they could run a tube up a nostril and see my throat. Instead, there was no numbing and they poked the hell out of the back of my throat with a laser gun while holding my tongue and making me sing "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!". Seriously. They even recorded video. Horrifying. I almost gagged and barfed on the guy three times or so. I wonder if anyone has actually puked on him? That would suck.
Anyways, he told me afterwards that it's textbook acid reflux. Yay, right? Except I'm on a gazillion meds for reflux so it should be under control.
This is when he busts out our "plan". He's going to put me back on the reflux meds I was on before the insurance had a fit (he can authorize it or something). Then we're going to do a fun 24 hour "esophageal pH test". I'm not even going into the details of that fun; you can read about it here if you feel so inclined. It will measure the amount of acid in my system over a 24 hour period to see how effectively the meds are/aren't working, etc.
He then tells me that if we can't control it through medication and lifestyle, I may need surgery. Again, not going into the specifics because I might just awake my inner give a damn and spaz but here's a linky. Suffice to say it's pretty major and irreversible so that would be second opinion time.
The major concern is that a strong correlation has been drawn between people with long-term uncontrolled acid reflux and esophageal cancer. Which is a very bad diagnosis says Dr. GagMe. I'm going to just trust him on that because Google has already sufficiently creeped me out.
And what I really care about? When do I get to sleep? You can stick tubes anywhere you want. I'll take whatever pills you prescribe. Just when do I get my 8-hour snoozefest?
Anyways, that's the latest chapter in the Life of Cate: She Who Does Not Sleep. My body really hates me. I think there's not a single normal-functioning part in there. And if I take the time to do an inventory and find one? I'm sure it will conk out tomorrow.
In the meantime, I'm going to go back into my sleep-deprivation state that allows me not to care. Where's my "Do Not Disturb... or I'll punch you in the face" sign?