I didn’t bother getting up early because a) I went to bed too fricking late, and b) why bother torturing myself being around food I CAN’T EAT?
I’m starving, I want coffee-coffee with sugar and cream. I can’t have dairy or soy or artificial creamers or even almond or cashew or coconut milk. Eeeergh.
I want an omelette with pancakes. Instead I’m having this:
I start the CLENPIQ, which is the gastrointestinal version of Drano or Mr. Plummr at around 4 pm. Oh the joy. The box lies and says this liquid gunk is cranberry flavored. I wish I could say it was as tasteless as a plain rice cake. Instead it tastes like some goop that has way too much Stevia in it. And don’t try to tell me Stevia is made from real sugar or it’s healthier because that’s bullshit. It tastes fake. I thought I was going to gag the first time around, on March 15th of this year. And, if it’s cranberries that are used to flavor this crap, they are grown somewhere in a galaxy, far, far away. That could explain the huge price that my insurance company paid for it. Fuel prices are rising, after all.
I’m cranky and hangry and, as Chelle used to say, “I’m in no mood.” That’s if you haven’t already guessed. I wouldn’t want to be around me.
What I can and cannot eat is listed on the instructions.
Unlike last time, the Center for Digestive Health called me with last minute prep questions and the lady was very nice. It might be a sign that the front office had an overhaul. For those of you who didn’t read my colonoscopy blogs last March, the visit there was almost a clusterfuck.
We, my roommate and driver, Rose, and I, arrived on time for the procedure and the receptionist, who had completely flat affect said, “Oh, your appointment was canceled because of no authorization.” She had no idea she was dealing with a hypoglycemic person who hadn’t eaten real food in over 24 hours and who also had Moon in Scorpio.
I never in my life blew up in a medical office the way I did when she uttered that statement. After informing her that the procedure was happening because I had just gotten off the phone with my primary who said that authorization was sent and that my insurance company was probably not going to pay for another round of CLENPIQ so soon after the first and that she was inconveniencing my roommate and my employer (cause I ended up having to call out for the day before) and me, she responded with, “I’ll see what I can do,” or some other canned response. “You do that because I’m having my colonoscopy done, here, today!”
So, that I had a pleasant question and answer phone conversation an hour ago with a rep from that office was a huge improvement.
All I kept thinking that day was, holy crap I had a total knee replacement that went problem-free and this place can’t even get its shit together over a routine colonoscopy?
I don’t think any part of my divorce made me that angry. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.
On top of this lack of real food business, my spoof calls have begun again, after a respite of a few weeks.
For funzies, I called it. It brings me to someone’s, “extension,” that is unavailable and has a full mailbox. My vibes tell me it’s a, “borrowed,” number my spoof caller used. As is the recent pattern, Rose got two spoofs. They were, “from,” California and her first one happened three minutes after mine and then an hour later. I called them; those two numbers are not in service.
It’s not unusual for one or two of my friends to get these calls when I do. My cyber stalker hacked into my old Android phone and he had fun going through my contact list and text messages. However, there is another candidate who also has Rose’s number via another method. Oh lucky me. I just laugh about these things now. But, seriously, GROW UP. If you have something to tell me, fucking, TELL ME. Errgh.
Now, I have a headache. I can’t take any NSAIDS (aspirin or ibuprofen) because in a week I get that squamous cell carcinoma cut out. Tylenol is useless; my pain just laughs at it.
God, now I want a grilled turkey club sandwich like the one I had at Sprouts for lunch yesterday!!!
Hopefully, I can write later, if I haven’t eaten my right hand!