Back!

As in flat on it, until the rest of today is over.

Oh no, you're thinking, this doesn't sound good. My apologies in advance. I hate, hate, hate to make the first post of 2010 a less than jolly one, but I didn't start this blog to create yet another place where I'd have to hide my real thoughts and feelings. I will throw in happy things at the end, so don't worry. Bumming in awaits! But if you're not up for (down with?) less than jolly, feel free to skip right to the photos. The happy starts there.

So. I feel moderately guilty that I've spent most of the afternoon in a travel-induced daze while D had to go straight to work from the airport, but I'm accepting my pathetic lack of vigor for now because I'm in a weird place. Limbo, I suppose, but it's a different limbo than the one I was in before the holidays.

Before we left town in December, I was doing my best not to get too worried about my not-so-great liver enzyme test results. There were presents to pack and people to look forward to seeing. And there was nothing to be done regarding the liver stuff until my seven weeks sans alcohol were up (more on that later). I did have some GI symptoms in the few days before we headed for D's parents' place, but I chalked it up to stress. (It's been known as early on as high school to cause me such problems.)

But the symptoms didn't go away. And they got more and more severe until on the morning of Christmas Eve, D and I decided I'd better give my GI doctor a call. One of his partners got back to me right away, advising me to double the dose of Pancrecarb I'd been taking before meals and call back after the weekend with an update on how it was working out. Simple enough -- and effective. By the end of the day, I was feeling tons better. I can't emphasize how nice it is to be able to eat without worrying how sick it might make me feel 30 minutes later.

I knew, though, that the previous ten days of ramped-up symptoms signified that things with my pancreas were getting worse. And once Troubadour Dad got news of the liver enzyme issues on top of the GI distress, he decided that something "wasn't right," particularly for someone my age, and suggested it was time to get a consult from a doctor at a more academic institution, i.e., a specialist with access to the most current research.

As it happens, Almost Dr. Sis has doctor-professors who are just those kinds of specialists. She very kindly contacted a senior doctor in the GI department to ask whom I should see, given my history, and he sent back a recommendation right away. So during the remainder of the week at my parents' house, I faxed off requests to all my doctors here in Seattle to get the pertinent parts of my medical records forwarded to said chosen specialist. The plan is to try to schedule a trip for me to get checked out by him in February. We're guessing it'll be a two-week visit, but we'll know better once this doctor has had the chance to review everything in my chart.

So, limbo. It's eating at me more than before -- probably because the whole flying-across-the-country-to-see-an-expert thing makes everything feel way more serious. Not sure what to do about that, so here I am, writing.

In the meantime, I have one more blood draw scheduled with my GI person here to look at those liver enzymes. I was a good girl and didn't even have a drink on New Year's Eve, even though Troubadour Dad was serving this:


But I was mildly naughty (from a blood sugar standpoint) and joined in the Spanish tradition of eating twelve grapes at midnight for good luck in the new year. One of Troubadour Dad's colleagues, who hails from Madrid, introduced us to the ritual that evening. Fun and hopeful! And excellent with really good cheeses afterward ...

Overall, my time with family was all right too. I have tons of photos to go through from the visit, which I might look at tomorrow when I need a break from thesis work (yep, it's time to get back to that before the semester starts up in two weeks). For now, here are a few shots of Troubadour Mom's bathroom residents. Proof that plants really can thrive by the tub!




I'm also thrilled to report that the rose we received back in October survived our absence marvelously. I wasn't sure it would, but these watering globes, which D picked up from Home Depot, actually worked. I'll take it as a good omen.

On that note, here's to a happy 2010, everyone. May it bring good things, surprising or otherwise, to you and the people you love.