Last year at this time I would have told you that I was in excrutiating pain. Last year I would have told you that despite that, I was determined to fix these stupid ribs.

Since last year, I’ve been through a plethora of medical tests, ranging from horrible to not bad at all. I’ve been poked, prodded, made to drink milkshakes of barium, made to have MRI’s of my back, which wasn’t even the problem in the first place, but a problem that the physical therapists actually CAUSED when trying to fix my ribs.

Back in February, I just got sick of it, and I stopped having tests. There was one final test that they were supposed to schedule, and I made a vow to myself that it would be the last one I would have, and that I would stop making myself crazy about this situation, and just trust my osteopath about the fact that this would take some time to fix.

The test was supposed to be scheduled for march. A test of my intestines for “peace of mind”. I would have to have anesthesia for this test, something that I had never experienced before, and was therefore terrified of. It certainly did not help then, that my friend jamie, who had also had this test for similar stomach problems, told me that it was, hands down, one of the worst experiences of his life.

I walked into the scheduling office at my doctor’s request, and frick and frack were working there. At least, that’s what I call them. There were two young girls working there who frankly had no idea what they were doing. I said the name of the test I needed and they kept saying “endoscopy? yeah, we can schedule that for you!” … I finally yelled at them and told them to call the doctor. The doctor explained the test I needed and they were like “duh… OH! der, that’s right, we’re dumb!” …

They scheduled me to go to a gastroenterologist in March. That turned out to be the horror story that I posted back in april about my ribs, where the man wouldn’t even examine me.

I called my doctor back and asked if I could please see Dr. Charles Scrobola, who was my dad’s gastroenterologist, and who, I was certain wouldn’t be a jerk to me, because my dad vouched for the fact that he was a nice man.

This doctor was apparently the hardest doctor to get in to see, because I called on April 3rd, and they wouldn’t see me until May 30th. My test was supposed to be back in March, mind you.

I went to my appointment and he tried to give me medicine just like EVERY OTHER DOCTOR. There is something wrong with this practice. I am sorry, but I don’t much like having pills thrown at me when the doctor doesn’t even know the cause. I don’t want them giving me medicine for some disease that they’re not even convinced I have. When a doctor says “why don’t you try THIS?” I have to say “No, i’m sorry I won’t.” That guy who was convinced I had shingles told me to put capcaisin cream on me. It was basically the extract of hot peppers, and it would deaden my nerves in the rib area. It wasn’t even guaranteed to work, nor was it guaranteed that I have shingles. FYI, I don’t have shingles. I didn’t have shingles. He was wrong.

After this doctor said he wanted to throw some more pills at me, I implored him to give me the test I needed since probably last year at this time. The test that would make me not worry if something UNDER my ribs was causing this. To my surprise, he said “That’s reasonable, so yes.”

The test wasn’t scheduled until july 10th. I  had a month to worry about this thing. And worry I did. As the date got closer and closer, I got really really scared. The two weeks that preceded the test were possibly some of the worst in my life. Just because I was afraid of anesthesia. It’s silly, really.

July 9th came, and I had to leave work early I was so upset. I went home, got everything ready and did my prep for the test. Everyone told me that the prep was the worst part, and while it was less than enjoyable, it wasn’t so bad. I am actually surprised I was able to sleep that night because of how scared to death I was.

The next morning I woke up and put the pool heater on and told myself that if i made it through this, I could go swimming and not worry anymore. Larry came over and took me to the test, because you’re not allowed to drive after the sedation. I kept jokingly telling larry that I was going to be all drunk when I came out and I was going to say stupid things and he was going to tell everyone, but seriously, this was the thing I was most afraid of. I heard horror stories about the things people do and say under anesthesia, and I just didn’t want to be one of those people.

They told us to be there at 9am, and we got there at 9am… and they made us wait until 10 to go in there, so by then, I was pretty scared out of my mind. I got in there and they told me to change, and I just started uncontrollably bawling my eyes out. I swear, I’m a two year old sometimes. The nurse was very nice, and she explained everything to me, but I just kept saying “I don’t want to do this, please, I just want to go home”… I was tired, and very hungry, and I really thought I was just going to walk out of there. I realized I couldn’t, and if I left, I would have given up and not gotten the peace of mind that I so very much needed as a part of my healing process. I took the anesthesia, and it was actually kinda cool. I went to sleep, and woke up a half an hour later to someone saying “wow, you’re awake already!”

When I woke up I was absolutely fine. Not drunk at all. A little dizzy and a lot hungry. I remember everything that everyone said to me. They gave me cookies and cranberry juice, and the cookies tasted amazing because of how hungry I was. The only thing that I’m actually extremely mad about is that I remember what the first and last cookies were, but not the second one!!!! That bugs me!  I apologized to the nurses who got to see me act like a five year old before the test and they were really cool and nice to me. The only thing that really bugged me is that the doctor was coming out and telling everyone’s significant others or parents how the test went, because you may not remember them telling you your results because of the sedation. They didn’t tell larry my results, and that upsets me, cause he was really worried there was a problem or something. They’re lucky that I remember what the doctor said!

My results were fine, and that really was what I needed. It lets me know that it IS just an orthopedic problem, and that I have taken the right steps in having it corrected. While I don’t pretend to understand why it happened, I do acknowledge now that it is probably nothing serious, and if I keep up a positive attitude coupled with exercise, good eating and regular osteopath visits, there is a good chance that it may go away someday. It may be years from now, and that sort of sucks, but I know many people who get allergy shots for years before they see any improvement in their condition. I learned from this situation that things don’t always work themselves out right away, and I need to be patient, even if that is extremely hard sometimes.

I want to thank everyone who’s been there for me through this. I’m going to get better, and I’m going to have a more positive outlook on all of this. Last year I left Otakon early because I let the rib situation get in the way. I let it ruin my time there, and I will not be letting that happen again. I’ve been trying to do as many fun things as possible this year, and so far it’s been working like a charm! I have decided that I am only going to Otakon this year as a spectator, rather than an artist. I have not entered a Sword That Cuts Things animation. But I will be there, so if anyone who reads this see me there, please come and say HI! I’ll be dressed as either Albonshasta or a Kappa, if I don’t deem the kappa costume too hot, it is made of fleece…
Thanks to you all, and I’ll see you at Otakon!