Five weeks ago I reported about my health problems and the lesion found on my vocal chords — we named him Fred in the previous post. Just in case some of you actually give a flying fuck, I have an update. Fred was supposed to be entirely gone now. Then I’d be happy and tell everyone life is good and move on.
I followed the restricted foods carefully and made perhaps one or two minor strays over the five weeks. Even the doctor agrees I did a fantastic job. I took the medicines every day — missing one dose one day only (thank Ernesto). I adjusted my eating and sleeping patterns. The consequences were too dire to do anything else.
So when Doctor Kevorkian, er, I mean Doctor Foster, shoved the camera down my nose this time, not using nearly enough anaesthetic I might add, and said, “oh” I felt my heart slow down. Fred is still there — that’s the bad news, and make no mistake about it because it’s very bad news. On the plus side, Fred is showing signs of improvement — and by that, I mean he’s a bit smaller but not small enough. So, I am on my morning Aciphex and a double evening dose of Nexium* — again with Tums as needed.
In early November I go back. If Fred is still there, I get a trip to the surgeons where the prognosis is good — assuming I don’t mind the fact I might not be able to talk ever again and a trip to a gastrointestinologist to find out why there’s so much acid gurgling around my stomach.
* assuming the fucktards at Aetna can actually get their shit together. I have no fucking idea what gives an insurance company the right to override a doctor’s decision and deny a prescription. I’ve already faxed my doctor the number to their appeals department, and pending that I’ll be calling the state insurance commissioner. Life is a bitch, and then you die waiting for the insurance company to figure it out. (Nexium40 is around $200 a bottle for a 30-day supply).