Bezoar

The last couple of weeks have been unpleasant but now I have answers to the questions about the pain in my abdomen. It’s not, as we first believed, my gallbladder. And it isn’t, thank God, any one of the four cancers the doctor was concerned about. Best of all it isn’t a bezoar!

I was disappointed that I couldn’t see my regular doctor Monday. It turns out she’s booked until July. Seriously? July? Instead I had to see someone I didn’t know. Now I realize as I get older doctors and cops get younger but this was a baby doctor! I don’t mean an ob/gyn. The doctor was a baby himself! And, being me, I managed to point this out before he introduced himself.

“Dear Lord, he’s twelve!” I thought. At least I thought I’d thought it. “You realize you said that out loud.” Mr. C said. Joy. At least the doc didn’t sit on the floor and tell me he didn’t want to play anymore.

The kid was definitely proactive. On Monday he was utterly certain it was my gallbladder. He sent me for “stat” blood work and a “stat” ultrasound. The ultrasound wasn’t quite “stat” as I’d eaten (no one said that was a bad idea before I got there). But by Wednesday the precocious proactive preteen was utterly certain it wasn’t my gallbladder.

So naturally he ordered another “stat” test. Unfortunately for this one we had to go to the University of Michigan hospital. It’s about an hour drive and there was a rainstorm of ark-building proportions. Since neither Mr. C nor I drive well in the dark and a driving rain Pete took us there.

The rest of the story has to be told in the way I’ve been thinking about it this morning. Here’s why.

This morning I woke up and read a comment by Elizabeth of Total Da Vinci Hysterectomy that made this whole painful episode worthwhile!

Elizabeth told me to Google “bezoar” and I did. And as soon as I did I woke Mr. C laughing my fanny off. Thank goodness he thought I was in pain. I’d hate to admit I woke him up at 4:30 in the morning giggling.

So, instead of going into boring details about what the CT scan showed I want to share the thoughts I’ve had since Elizabeth had me Google bezoar!

The National Museum of Health and Medicine explains: Humans and cud-chewing animals, such as cows, oxen, sheep, goats, llamas, deer, and antelopes get hairballs or other types of “bezoars” (pronounced BE-zor). A bezoar is a mass of nondigestible (sic) matter that collects in the stomach.

I’m actually a little jealous that it’s not a bezoar since some people (some sick, sick people) actually have them polished and mounted!

 

But back to my diagnosis and how I now visualize the whole thing because of ruminants and bezoars.

When this all started I had a really hard time getting up and moving. It hurt a lot and I was happy being a big baby.

The blood test and the ultrasound were no big deal. But I had to drink two large cups of the nastiest stuff for the CT scan. The first was advertised as berry flavor but unless they grow the berries in an open and occupied grave I have my doubts. The second was supposed to be mocha. You will not be seeing any recipes using this particular mocha from me ever. They make you drink it! Even if you resist they have ways to make you do it!

And they still did the I.V. with the stuff that makes you glow in the dark! They said there might be some side effects but I haven’t noticed anything.

Thursday afternoon I had the results. My reaction to finding out what’s really wrong is incredibly close to what it would have been had I actually had a bezoar.

It’s a what now?

The upside of all of this is that I now know what a bezoar is and I’m getting a cat. That way I can polish the hairballs and sell them on Ebay. And for that I thank Elizabeth!

Another positive is that the kid doctor is utterly certain that after four days of industrial strength medicine I’ll be just fine. He was utterly certain of it. But being a doctor he had to throw in the caveat that, if it’s not, I have to see a GI guy.

After the week I just had I really need a vacation!

 

Images courtesy – Catster, Stephen King, and Pinterest