Janet, Jay and I went "shopping" today for a replacement vehicle for the wrecked van. We ended up buying another Ford E350 van - a real dirt shower (burgundy) for Janet AND a pick-up truck for Jay.
Where's MY boat????
Friday, January 22, 2010
Come into my parlor...
said the doctor to the patient...
Well, had my "interview" with the Doc today. Now here's the problem as to why health care in Canada is expensive. I had a procedure (see last post) which was supposed to give answers as to what is going on with me. I also had an ultrasound done, again to help reveal what is "wrong" so that appropriate treatment could begin - with the intent (hopefully) of ensuring I have a long and stress-free (wishful thinking) life. Today I find out that they don't know, and have scheduled an additional procedure, involving a nasty bit of business (I say nasty because it involves at least an over-night hospital stay and maybe much bleeding) in the hopes of a further discovery of what is wrong. Hmmmmm, three kicks at the can, each involving a (presumably) more expensive step than the previous. Thank you taxpayers of Ontario for your keen interest in my bladder. Now, where is the free ice-cream...
Well, had my "interview" with the Doc today. Now here's the problem as to why health care in Canada is expensive. I had a procedure (see last post) which was supposed to give answers as to what is going on with me. I also had an ultrasound done, again to help reveal what is "wrong" so that appropriate treatment could begin - with the intent (hopefully) of ensuring I have a long and stress-free (wishful thinking) life. Today I find out that they don't know, and have scheduled an additional procedure, involving a nasty bit of business (I say nasty because it involves at least an over-night hospital stay and maybe much bleeding) in the hopes of a further discovery of what is wrong. Hmmmmm, three kicks at the can, each involving a (presumably) more expensive step than the previous. Thank you taxpayers of Ontario for your keen interest in my bladder. Now, where is the free ice-cream...
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Free at last - not so fast...
*Sigh* Repeat, *Sighhhhh*.
All right, so what's a guy to do. Here I am, just getting used to celebrating the absence of Nurses and Doctors and nagging wife (just kidding, Hun!) and lo and behold, another medical condition crops up. I have tumours in the bladder. Now, I don't want to go into excruciating detail about how these were discovered, but the "instrument" used to "scope" the location out HAD to have been invented in either the dark ages or in some extreme nazi experimental laboratory. I was sore for three days, and could hardly do jumping-jacks (not that I would DO jumping-jacks, but for sure this was the excuse not to.)
The only good news is that the Doc said these tumours did not look cancerous, and what the normal procedure is that they use the same hideous - no, no, "wonderful" - scope to basically lassoe the offensive little buggers and strangle them right off the interior surface of the bladder. They do condescend to keeping you overnight at the hospital, I suppose because the possibility of peeing right away will be next to impossible unless one is either drugged or drunk...
Anyway, I am scheduled for an ultrasound AND have an appointment with the butcher, no, no, "Doctor" who I suppose wants me to sign a pile of release forms - you know the kind - sign here, just in case the lassoe slips and we cut-off-more-than-we-intended-and-now-you-can-REALLY-wear-ladies-underwear...
Yippie. Anyway, I am taking this news in my usual calm manner, which is driving my poor wife bananas. She has put me on a sugar restricted diet, makes me drink lemon water, digest aeorbic oxygen (20 drops, in *sigh* water) and looks like she expects me to keel over any second.
My children have no sympathy, and are still brats.
All I really wanna' know is, can I still have chocolate ice cream?
*sigh*
All right, so what's a guy to do. Here I am, just getting used to celebrating the absence of Nurses and Doctors and nagging wife (just kidding, Hun!) and lo and behold, another medical condition crops up. I have tumours in the bladder. Now, I don't want to go into excruciating detail about how these were discovered, but the "instrument" used to "scope" the location out HAD to have been invented in either the dark ages or in some extreme nazi experimental laboratory. I was sore for three days, and could hardly do jumping-jacks (not that I would DO jumping-jacks, but for sure this was the excuse not to.)
The only good news is that the Doc said these tumours did not look cancerous, and what the normal procedure is that they use the same hideous - no, no, "wonderful" - scope to basically lassoe the offensive little buggers and strangle them right off the interior surface of the bladder. They do condescend to keeping you overnight at the hospital, I suppose because the possibility of peeing right away will be next to impossible unless one is either drugged or drunk...
Anyway, I am scheduled for an ultrasound AND have an appointment with the butcher, no, no, "Doctor" who I suppose wants me to sign a pile of release forms - you know the kind - sign here, just in case the lassoe slips and we cut-off-more-than-we-intended-and-now-you-can-REALLY-wear-ladies-underwear...
Yippie. Anyway, I am taking this news in my usual calm manner, which is driving my poor wife bananas. She has put me on a sugar restricted diet, makes me drink lemon water, digest aeorbic oxygen (20 drops, in *sigh* water) and looks like she expects me to keel over any second.
My children have no sympathy, and are still brats.
All I really wanna' know is, can I still have chocolate ice cream?
*sigh*
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