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November 10, 2003-4:50 p.m. It�s been a rough week for your favorite redheaded spinster. Last Wednesday, I found out that I didn�t get a job that I had interviewed for three times, not including the first little informal group meeting thing. That was very disappointing but in truth, I probably wouldn�t have been happy there and they have at least extended my employment through the end of the year now. Thursday morning I had a doctor�s appointment with a urologist to discuss why the heck I have to pee all of the damned time even though my blood sugar is in check. My regular doctor prescribed some new medication for this condition that was only marginally helpful so it was off to the urologist with our Sa. You�d think that since I work in insurance, I might have had an idea about the ordeal that lay ahead but that just wasn�t the case. Perhaps the trauma from the previous day�s events erased the portion of my brain that would have housed that information. Suffice to say, he inserted a catheter and had a look around inside my bladder. In the course of this examination, he found what he thinks may be an extra ureter running off of my right kidney and into my bladder. Great! Now I�m a jobless freak of nature! Larry and I theorized that perhaps this is some sort of communication device connecting me to the mothership and when it�s time to return or take over the world or whatever, they�ll use this seemingly innocuous extra ureter as their means of communication. We haven�t really worked out the details on this yet. One of the openings to one of these ureters appeared to be irritated so the doctor scheduled me for lab work to determine whether I do, in fact, have two right ureters and if there is a stone in one causing it to be irritated and make me think I have to pee all of the time. Also, he scheduled me for a pelvic ultrasound to determine whether or not, in his words, I have �a big old fibroid-filled uterus� pressing against my bladder. I�m sure Heather probably could have given me the scoop on this, if I had thought to ask her. Last night, in preparation for today�s test, I had to drink a half-cup of Milk of Magnesia. Why don�t the stores sell this stuff in any size but the 80-gallon drum size? I cannot perceive a time that I will ever have another use for the stuff but the skinflint in me rankles at the thought of throwing away a half-cup shy of 80 gallons of the stuff so it is sitting in my refrigerator next to a bottle of Cuervo 1800 that Larry gave me. Also, they should have followed the doctor�s instruction �drink a half-cup of Milk of Magnesia� with �buy a package of lotion-laced toilet paper.� Evidently, they wanted me squeaky clean for this x-ray thing so they could really, really see the radioactive goop they injected me with making its way through my kidneys and bladder. The technician couldn�t get an IV started despite lots of slapping and poking on my arm so eventually a nurse came in and put the IV in my hand. It�s no wonder they couldn�t find a vein, I�m sure I was bordering on dehydration after that tasty half-cup concoction. If there was anyone left at work in my area, I would whine theatrically about how painful it is to write after having been stabbed in the hand but, alas, no such luck. Then I went for the uber-humiliating ultrasound. Thank god, I had the forbearance of mind to take the day off from work. So I�ve had my nap and am hoping with all of my heart and soul that this is the end of the action-filled fun for this week, at least. **Disclaimer: All characters in this diary are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, real or imagined, is purely coincidental and unintentional.** |
