Greatly exaggerated

I went to see Dr. Cline on Tuesday for a follow-up to my fourth abdominal surgery on June 30th, and like a scene straight out of Arrested Development, he looked me straight in the eye and told me in his minimalist deadpan, “I can’t do anything for you.” Then, ironically, he told me he’d see me in two weeks – I have been rapidly losing weight because I can’t keep food down, and I wasn’t sure if he meant in the office or at my funeral. It was almost like an embarrassed little afterthought coming out of his mouth, his best attempt at bedside manner. Surreal. But just like the go-to joke in Arrested Development, the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated (apologies to Mark Twain). I’m a lover AND a fighter.

Today mum and the girls left for VBS early enough to catch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (wow we’ve been waiting for that for a long time, and now it’s come and gone…), and I was too wiped out to get work done, so I ended up watching all the episodes of 30 Rock I’ve been missing (14-21 to be exact). As Liz says, laughter is the best medicine – and she’s a frakkin’ doctor! – and she proved herself right. Apparently I laughed a bit of my obstruction away, and tonight, in the wee hours, my stomach feels better than it has since things started going south, around June 4th. I also have finagled my way into an appointment with a top-notch gastroenterologist at Wake Forest, Dr. Mishra. He’s on Dr. Levine’s team and hopefully he will keep me on the straight and narrow. Upwards my friends! May you and yours be well as well.