Have My Liver Please, with a Glass of Chianti

Have My Liver Please, with a Glass of Chianti

It all started with heartburn.

After going to see my primary physician to get a script for my daily heartburn, she orders me to get blood work done because it “may have an effect” on my liver. And it’s just a good thing to do each year anyway. Um, good for who? Because it’s not any fun for me. A few days later, I receive a phone call from Nurse Ratched that my liver enzyme levels are elevated. The doctor is concerned but wants to re-test me in a month to see if the issue corrects itself. Oh, ok.

But between life commitments bogging me down all day, total denial, and eventually just plain forgetting about it, I never went for the second round of blood work. Months pass, until one day the Super Happy Sunshine People at the doctor’s office call me with a friendly “where the fuck have you been?” phone call. Shit! They found me.

So I hesitantly get stuck again, and within 48 hours, Super Happy Sunshine People are calling me again. Only this time, they have a full-fledged Neanderthal giving me my diagnosis. (Note To Self: change doctors offices ASAP.) Levels are still elevated. The doctor wants to get an ultrasound of my liver and gallbladder to see if they can visually diagnose anything and have me go through more blood work to be tested for hepatitis.

BOOM. There was the big H word….hepawhowhat?! I calmly ask how exactly does one get this hepatitis thingy? (silence on the other end.) Um, hello? (crickets creaking.) I hear light clicking on a keyboard. The bitch is actually looking this up on the internet. “Well, it’s predominate amongst drug users and AIDS patients.” My jaw drops. “Yea, I’m neither. What else ya got?”

“It’s common with people with several sexual partners?” This statement actually came out of her mouth as a question. “Considering I’ve been with the same man for, like ever, it’s not that.” More clicking of the keyboard……”Um, do you drink a lot?” UGH! You have got to be friggin’ kidding me! Yes, I drink wine. But I’d have to be a full-fledged, hard-core alcoholic for decades for it to eventually effect my liver. Even I know this. And I’ve only been on the heartburn meds for a couple of months, so it can’t be that. We’re both confused. Apparently, my fate has been written. I’m doomed.

By the end of the phone call, I’m convinced I’m going to die and Nurse Ratched is none the wiser. I turn to my facebook friends, who are my ever-faithful support group. It’s going to be ok…probably just my gallbladder…something simple that diet and meds will take care of…God I love my friends!

So tomorrow’s the big day for my ultrasound and blood work. Am I scared of what they may find? Hell yea. Am I worried about possibly needing surgery? Absolutely. Am I worried they may tell me I need to cut back on my beloved vino? Holy crap yes! Is this something I can avoid? Having 2 small children who need me around for a while, nope. It is what it is.

The story shall continue on another day. In the meantime, Namaste my friends.

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