I am usually on top of interacting with other blogs, but this current health scare is interfering with an ability to communicate. This must appear rude and the blog stats are certainly dwindling fast. It feels heart breaking to watch something so special just slip through my fingers.
I’m worried about my health, very worried, but I feel reluctant to tell anyone just in case it transpires as nothing and I look like a deranged hypochondriac.
I decided that I should chart the medical procedures on my blog, but I really don’t know what direction we will be heading. Allow me to update you on the current progress.
The colonoscopy results can take up to 8 weeks, but if there were any issue in the bowel to cause weight loss, they would’ve seen it on the day.
I initially thought the pounds were shedding due to a small and painful reduction in donuts, ice cream, and medications, although I now appreciate these miniscule amounts would hardly scrape the scales. Nevertheless, following the colonoscopy on the 16th of last month, I decided not to return to the GP, but to spend a week or two pigging-out on all those lovely bad munchies.
Five days into my belly-busting regime, I had a telephone call from the GP asking what I am doing.
“What, right at this minute?”
He always gasps whenever I say something ridiculous, “No,” gasp, “I mean, why haven’t you come to see me?”
“Well, um, I’m taking a week to increase my diet because I’m still pretty certain this is lifestyle related.”
He gasps, “Listen, I can’t discuss this right now, but come see me on Monday morning.”
I made an appointment for Wednesday.
“Mr Cat, you don’t seem to grasp the magnitude of this situation. A weight loss of 2lbs each week has nothing to do with cutting back two or three donuts a week or reducing a miniscule amount of medications.”
“But, I feel too well for this to be anything serious.”
“What?” He gasps, “I don’t think you’ve been too well recently. Your stomach is tender, you have upper back pain, you look very pale, you’ve complained about fatigue for some time now, and you are losing far_too_much_weight.”
“Then it must be a helluva coincidence, when I cut down on some naughty edibles, the pounds start to drop.”
He gasps, “I am also trying to lose the pounds and I jog three times a week, but I struggle to get anywhere near your weight loss.” He laughs, “If you bottle the secret, you’ll be mega rich.”
I stare in silence, unable to absorb everything he’s saying. It’s so odd to have a Doctor say I have a potential health problem… am I really in trouble? Is this a potential death sentence? I keep the dramatics to myself.
This time he smiles, “I am sorry to be so brutal, but you need to take this seriously. Six months ago, you were 206lbs, but today you are only 171lbs.”
“But, I’m still 17lbs overweight.”
“Yes, but you were originally 35lbs overweight and in about 8 weeks’ time, you’ll be verging on un_der_weight. Can you not understand why I want to move this along quickly?”
The GP made a referral to see the gastroenterologist. An urgent hospital appointment in the UK can take a couple of weeks. I also have a scan of my pancreas booked for the 12th of this month.
I am starting to question why I have spent so many years allowing past pain and bad family relationships to destroy my life.