Wednesday 22 October 2014

Diagnosis of the day.

Ma'am magistra artium, your reflux is big as a swine. Your gastric juices spill like the contents of a kicked bucket and where there should be a hole tightly shut, your cardia is open wider than a barn door. Your oesophagus has better self-cleaning properties than an average cat because to my great surprise, there's no acid damage.

Excuse the bits of literal translation including the local abusive use of academic degrees of no major significance but I couldn't deprive you of the Monty Pythonesque sense of humour of my gastroenterologist. On paper, it said boring things like Massive GERD, no hernia. I got a script for A LOT of meds which they didn't have in my pharmacy because apparently, people are not supposed to use them by handfuls, a flyer that listed things to be avoided so I should deprive myself of the basic survival needs like coffee and the things that make life worth it at least for the time of consumation, such as wine, poppy seeds or chocolate. And I should prop the head side of my bed on a 4 x 4 so that the bucket contents stay where they should, which is not going to work because the headboard just reaches the lowered ceiling in one corner.
Tomorrow, I'm not seeing any doc so I should be just fine, I hope.

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