Theodore is my real-life Peter Pan. Eternally in search of dirt or bugs or birds or sticky, dirty, slimy, exciting, dangerous new things. Never really interested in the television, but entranced by an open window or unlocked door. He asks him self from one moment to the next, How high can I climb? How fast can I run? How far shall I get today?
Oliver yearns for adventure with the same ferocity, but is far more cautious about it and always has been. That's why Theodore has been such a learning curve for us, he's such a new adventure than the one we grew so accustomed to. But I am overcome with the joy that these boys bring me every day, the two greatest decisions I have ever made, and most incredible things I have ever created, hands-down. Alright, love-fest over.
I went for my long awaited doctor's appointment yesterday. I waited in his office for over 40 minutes before I was seen by a student doctor - who was pleasant enough, I should be sure to mention. He was perfectly kind and sweet, and notably good looking as well. But it meant repeating my entire story to yet another medical professional. How many is that now, seven? Seven, I think. Sheesh. My ultrasound came back completely clear. My reproductive organs are in perfect working order. Ovaries, uterus, whatchamacallit. All perfect. Not cysts, not fibroids, not anything else of that nature. The doctor said with near certainty that whatever is ailing me has nothing to do with the femininity of it all. That's good news, right...?
I must admit a part of me was hoping they had found something that could be treated, and I could be past all of this nonsense. So there we all sat, the three of us, for almost an hour, playing a strange sort of multiple choice guessing game. We all ended up deciding that it is likely being caused by something in my gastrointestinal region, so after another (another, folks!) swab below-the-belt (done by the student doctor, though I don't mind, as I'm a pretty good sport, and doctors need more good sports to learn by) I was sent on my way. I'll be getting a call at some point in the next month regarding an appointment with a gastroenterologist in the city. At that appointment I am to expect just a discussion, after which I'm to expect another appointment at which I can likely look forward to a colonoscopy procedure. Oh joy. Oh rapture. (If you don't know what that is, enlighten yourself!)
I've now made it a personal mission to cure myself before anything further has to be done. I must decide that this pain is all in my head, or that it's IBS, and cure it with further dietary changes, exercise, and meditation. I'm absolutely determined, because if I decide that they're right, that there's something yet to be investigated, I'll just wait around with this pain until someone else resolves it. And I simply can. not.
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