This test, since it's intestinal, requires not a little prep beforehand. About five days before you have to stop eating nuts, seeds, corn or popcorn. After that you have to stop eating raw vegetables or berry-fruit. Canned is okay, but no skins. Nothing with whole grain.
Okay, I could do that. It would only be a week. I could eat any kind of meat except fried, and could make do with mushy white bread for a few days, certainly.
Yesterday was the killer, though. I spent the day consuming clear liquids only and getting ready for a certain something I'd be taking later in the day, as part of the (lower) intestinal prep. So far, so good. I was a bit low-energy, but managed to get through the day on water, clear tea with sugar (to keep my blood levels functioning normally) and non-fat, low-salt bullion. Yes, I was hungry, but I could hold out a day and a half.
A less pleasant part of this preparation would involve not-small doses of Magnesium Citrate, a compound which...well, let's say the examination area is nice and clean once the doctor needs to have a look. He inserts a laparoscopic camera in an area of the anatomy best not left to discussion. If the above-mentioned Magnesium Citrate has done its job - and believe me, you'll know within two hours about that - then you should have smooth sailing for the whole thing. Short procedure, reasonable levels of anesthesia. Then dinner afterward - a dinner that will taste all that much better now that you're starving and reamed out.
Alas, Magnesium Citrate and I were not meant to meet, at least under the conditions specified for the procedure. I was supposed to drink a bottle and a half (15 oz) tonight and another bottle and a half early tomorrow morning. Not the greatest tasting stuff in the world, but I had my bottles and down the hatch they went.
For a little while anyway.
I managed to choke down the solution between glasses of regular water, which I figured would be fine, since I had to drink mucho water after taking it anyway. The stuff was heavy, very salty, and had a lemony taste. I just held my nose and decided I'd just get it over with as quickly as possible.
It looks like my stomach was not at all interested in this beverage and decided, within three minutes of my finishing the entire first dose, to return it...immediately. I didn't quite make it in time to deposit the "beverage" in the sink and ended up cleaning spilled magnesium citrate off the hallways and the runners leading to the kitchen.
Well, let's just say I was in a mess then, and in more ways than one. I'd just upchucked an entire test preparation and had nothing left in me to do the job. There's no way I'm going to be able to repeat that and, besides, I'm already a day late on this carefully timed, two-day prep job. What to do? What to do?
My stomach was grumbling and growling from its recent bold and decisive action. I was still nauseated and now weak and feeling sick. I called the clinic's after-hours phone and said I'd need to talk to them tomorrow, could they call me? Then I listened to more of my audiobook, before nausea took the better of me and I retreated upstairs to return the very last of the magnesium citrate, this time to the toilet and sink on the second floor.
That and a headache medication later, I was feeling much recovered but I don't think I'll be getting my roto rooter exam tomorrow. That sucks, because now I have to go through that once again, after deciding white alternative potion that both I, as well as the scanning machine, can tolerate.
Well, live and learn I suppose, but I'd really have preferred going in tomorrow, wrung out and starving as I'd be. At least it would get done.
it takes that one great leap of faith to reach for your happiness.
18 December 2009
This story is written primarily as a historical snapshot.
If you hold the opinion that every adult, even without justification, should have the "right" to own a gun or any other device primarily designed to kill other humans, then please, on this occasion, keep it to yourself.
I am too old to be bothered arguing with nonsense.
Papua New Guinea cities today are often lawless violent places. Crimes committed at the point of a gun are commonplace and the police force, possessing an inferior arsenal, is frequently unwilling to confront the armed "raskal" gangs responsible.
It was not always so. During the 1960's the only people in PNG permitted to have firearms were members of the military, a few thoroughly screened "special applicants" such as slaughtermen, pilots and ship's captains, and each administrative patrol post also had some weapons securely locked away for emergency use by police or Government patrol officers.
Every firearm was rigorously monitored.
After mine ended up on the bottom of the flooded Gwenif River following a "canoe malfunction" during a 2 week foot patrol of the Sepik plains, I was interrogated, and required to explain the loss in a Statutory Declaration and numerous other Government forms in triplicate.
Each village was also permitted to have one only shotgun for the purposes of hunting wild game. The gun licence was allocated to a village elder who was responsible and accountable for use of the weapon.
Gun related crime simply did not occur under this regime.
Burglaries were always common in a country where there was so much discrepancy between the "haves" and the "have nots", but guns have now replaced inventiveness and taken the creativity out of larceny.
The first crime against me was the theft one night of a case containing a piano accordian which I had left under my house on a rural outpost. Presumably the thief was gutted when he discovered that it was not full of fifty Kina notes or gold bullion.
The first I knew of it was when the local constable visited me early next morning dragging the young offender by the ear to provide an apology along with return of the instrument.
Next, in Lae town, my watch was stolen off a table in my house by a thief gaining access through louvre windows, while I slept in another room.
I bought a new watch, deliberately leaving it in the same place while I camouflaged myself, solid length of 4x2 hardwood in hand, behind some sofa cushions waiting to exact some GOF retribution if he tried poking his head back in through the windows again.
Light fingers apparently do not strike in the same place twice.
Homeowners eventually started welding steel mesh over windows as a deterrent, so thieves then graduated to removing sheets of roofing iron instead to gain access to goodies.
The most innovative incident occurred at a "burglar proofed" rural shop.
(burglar alarms and electronic devices were not available in PNG in the 1960's)
All the windows, doors, walls and roof were "steel meshed", but the wooden floor was a few inches off the ground to avoid termite attack.
The innovative thieves firstly stole a couple of car jacks then burrowed under, and lifted up the floor to gain access.
Maybe they went on to become banking executives or used car salesmen.
Or, more likely, when their society degenerated and no longer effectively prevented them from owning guns, they graduated to simply shooting people before stealing their possessions.
Seksi Salon, in Cairns, is currently advertising on TV a Christmas special;
"A Brazilian and spray tan for $50"
I can't wait to tell Mrs GOF that I am not going to be lonely without her this Christmas.
Forest of hands and teeth by Carrie Ryan - This book was recommended to me by a voxer but I can't remember who because it has been on hold for awhile. It finally came into my library 2 days ago. I was pulled into this zombie book right away. The author created a really vivid story. I was stressed out as I was reading it because I was so worried for the characters. As much as I enjoyed reading the book... it is one of those books that will make an even better movie! I am sure we are going to start hearing about it soon!! Thanks for the wonderful recommend!!
Here's my poinsettia from Wal-Mart. It seems to like this sunny window location. It only gets this full sun treatment for a short period of time each morning. And it is proof that we had a mostly sunny day today, and a high temperature of about 50. I should have taken my camera and gone outside, but I was busy with indoor stuff today. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, bills, wrapping, mailing, etc. I even got my dental insurance issues resolved and made a dentist appointment. Yeah! If you walked in the door, you might wonder if I had accomplished anything, but I feel pretty good. I even cleared most of the clutter off my desk.
I am supposed to be off again tomorrow, but I am going in so I can take off on Saturday. My hubby continues to eat well. I cooked a lot of different things today: blueberry applesauce, brown rice, creamed tuna with peas, cheesecake, mashed cauliflower, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and turkey pot pie. I made extra sauce for the pot pie so it wouldn't be so dry. Then I combined the pot pie, some stuffing, and some leftover cream gravy from last night, and blended it until it looked like baby food. I alway lick off the blender attachment to taste the "meal" my hubby will be eating. It's not that bad. There are some things that I've learned to like better when they are blended than the way I used to make them. I rarely have issues with heartburn or indigestion anymore, so perhaps this soft food diet is a good thing for me, too.
I did get started wrapping presents today. I finally got the one wrapped that has to be sent to Texas, but with priority shipping, they should get it in about 3 days. Priority mail postage printed on the computer was cheaper than parcel post from the post office.
Still no decorations or tree. And no cards yet either. I need to do the cards first. Tomorrow!
First, the not so weird. Taschen has published a collection of Obama posters, Design for Obama. Posters for Change: A Grassroots Anthology. You can leaf through the entire book here. There are some very clever designs.
Then there is a collection of weird books. Here is the description of my favorite title, which I at first thought was a book for children:
I also like suggestive titles such as "Death in the Pot," or "The Deer-smellers of Haunted Mountain," as well as practical tomes such as "Toilet Paper Origami" (I thought I was the inventor of the idea), "Help! A Bear Is Eating Me," and "Do-It-Yourself Coffins" (well, aren't we all doing it ourselves?). And how can you resist a book entitled "Fart Proudly" (by Benjamin Franklin no less) or one that asks "Why Do I Vomit?" Finally, "A Stress Analysis of a Strapless Evening Gown" and "The Thermodynamics of Pizza" promise to appease, at least till the next edition of weird collection, your thirst for knowledge.If you've got a constipated or mouse-shy snake on your hands, you'll want to pick up a copy of What's Wrong with My Snake?: A User-friendly Home Medical Reference Manual by John and Roxanne Rossi.
I just walked into the kitchen and found Mr FD standing at the bench waiting for the kettle to boil to make his coffee. He was murmuring "My husband and I..." to himself.
I know that I am a goddess, but I have no intention of delivering a Christmas message ... too much caffeine?
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