be thankful there are no photos with this post

This is one of those things that I have to laugh, or else I will cry. OK, not cry tears of sadness, but tears of Oh-My-God-I-Can't-Believe-This-Is-Happening-Ridiculousness.
Let me begin.
My stomach has been giving me trouble.
(I can promise that this post will not get graphic and disgusting, but it might push the boundaries of good taste.)
It's been and off and on thing for a while now. But really got to a point that I could no longer ignore back in November. I had heard about Kerri and how she went gluten free. Talking to her a bit, I decided that I would try it. It never hurts. So the week before Thanksgiving I stripped all gluten from my diet. I had immediate relief. No more pain. (Granted, I was barely eating anything so it could have been a fluke.)
I stayed g-free for around 7 weeks. During this time I had a few incidents. It made me wonder, did I accidentally ingest gluten? (things like Soy Sauce, smokey flavored bacon and spices can all have gluten) Or, was it simply that gluten was not the problem?
I talked to my doctore who referred me to a gastroenterologist. I gave up the g-free diet, which the gastro said was a good thing. In order to get accurate test results I need to be eating a 'regular diet.'

I can't believe I'm about to share this. But I'm a giver, what can I say?
The tests that will be conducted include an endoscopy and an ultrasound. Potential culprits include my gallbladder, gluten, IBS or there is the possibility I got a parasite in Mexico. (Can you say 'ewe?')
I got home after the initial consult and was sitting on the couch when my phone rang. It was the nurse. After a few moments of me 'uh huh,' and 'yes' I hung up.
Brad asked what that was about, so I turn to him and say,
"I have to poop in a cup."
Apparently they forgot to tell me this at the appointment.
Joy.
This lead to a series of interesting questions. How exactly does one manage that feat? I've had to pee in a cup and it took a bit of acrobatics but nothing worth mentioning.
How long does the sample stay good for? Is this something I want to do at work? (Answer, GOD NO) So then when do I handle this? And upon handling this, where do I put it?
The next day I went and retrieved the kit. While there were instructions included, they didn't answer any of the above questions. It simply stated I should 'deliver the sample as quickly as possible.'
Are we talking 'human heart in an ice chest soon as possible' or 'do you mind filling out this paperwork soon as possible'?
It didn't say.
So I followed the instructions and went to 'make the drop' deliver the package, leave my sample. Note, as I pulled into the hospital parking lot I saw a tiny date on the form. TOMORROW'S DATE. I had a fleeting thought of 'what the fuck am I supposed to do with this for an entire day?'
Instead I went inside and hoped they didn't notice.
They made me check in and 'go sit down.'
With my sample.
I looked around the waiting room at the faces. People who were here to have actual procedures. People who had purses and bags and coffees. I wondered if anyone had a clue what was in my bag.
Hopefully not.
Did you know the hospital (this one at least) has a pager system, like a restaurant? There was a note on it saying that you will not be seen in the order you come in but in the order of your appointment. As I didn't have one (and technically was a day early for the drop-off) I was concerned. After sitting with IT for an hour, my pager buzzed.
I carried my bag nonchalantly to the counter, IT COULD BE AN APPLE, YOU DON'T KNOW. And they proceeded to ADMIT me to the hospital.
I'm going to be so late for work.
And then, after all of this, to add insult to injury, they tell me that I'm going to need to pay my deductible of $500.
Let me repeat, FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.
For $500, they should have been able to send someone to my house to collect the sample while I was sleeping and had fairies available to lull me back to sleep in case it woke me!

I remember hearing my grandmother and then mother saying things like, 'getting old is a bitch.' 'You're not always going to be able to eat whatever you want.' and 'Life has a way of catching up with you.'
I of course was fifteen and had an iron stomach and a hollow leg. I could eat whatever I wanted in any quantity. I was known to out eat my stepfather, a burly man well over six feet tall.

And then I got older. You never know when it will sneak up on you. And, by the way? All those questions up there that I posed? I know the answers to them. Now, anyway, but I will not subject you to them.
I think I've done enough damage with this post as it is.
Hopefully you'll come back for my next post.
I promise not to talk about poop.