This will work out, permitting you to read it, or not, allowing you to remain clueless as to its very existence.
It is time to assess.
Let me go chronological on you.
Two years ago vs today.
Two years back I had an extensive swallow test. The test results, coupled with observances of a pair of specialists, concluded that the only way for me to take in sustenance was in the form of thickened liquid by way of a spoon. Never was I to use a straw or drink from a cup or eat any food with texture. If they could've mandated a feeding tube I'd've never escaped the hospital without a hole drilled through to my gut. On the advice of my neurologist (who never visited or called the hospital), we scheduled a gut plug (don't play with my verbiage), to be bored the following week. I opted out on the last day possible. Good thing. Because of my diabetes and my swallowing problems I refused to eat (and I use the term as loosely as the food was identified as such) or drink doctored product, and consequently relied on IV administration of fluids. If some of this doesn't make sense it was meant not to. I need a certain amount of cognitive slip in order to maintain the requisite definition of illness as prescribed by my neurologist just in case he were to travel through the worm hole to reality and fucking read the blog of somebody who can tell him exactly what is going on with us. Namely me. Unless I show up at clinic he couldn't care less about my condition, and when I do, it is an exercise in confirmation of his expertise as he checks off unimportant and speaks in the second person while I'm in the room without any interest whatsoever what goes on in my mind. I don't have a clue as to how to educate him on the core failings of his community and he hasn't a clue how far off the mark his exists.
Major segue.
Back to chronology.
Spin to now.
I don't have the tube. I'm not diabetic. I don't drink thickened liquid. I eat regular food with caution. I'm apt to use a straw. It's been a year since I last went to clinic. It's been a year since I've heard from my neurologist.
While some things are heading down hill, others give me hope. The further from the naysayers I go, the more hope dominates my thoughts and the better I feel.
It is time to assess.
Let me go chronological on you.
Two years ago vs today.
Two years back I had an extensive swallow test. The test results, coupled with observances of a pair of specialists, concluded that the only way for me to take in sustenance was in the form of thickened liquid by way of a spoon. Never was I to use a straw or drink from a cup or eat any food with texture. If they could've mandated a feeding tube I'd've never escaped the hospital without a hole drilled through to my gut. On the advice of my neurologist (who never visited or called the hospital), we scheduled a gut plug (don't play with my verbiage), to be bored the following week. I opted out on the last day possible. Good thing. Because of my diabetes and my swallowing problems I refused to eat (and I use the term as loosely as the food was identified as such) or drink doctored product, and consequently relied on IV administration of fluids. If some of this doesn't make sense it was meant not to. I need a certain amount of cognitive slip in order to maintain the requisite definition of illness as prescribed by my neurologist just in case he were to travel through the worm hole to reality and fucking read the blog of somebody who can tell him exactly what is going on with us. Namely me. Unless I show up at clinic he couldn't care less about my condition, and when I do, it is an exercise in confirmation of his expertise as he checks off unimportant and speaks in the second person while I'm in the room without any interest whatsoever what goes on in my mind. I don't have a clue as to how to educate him on the core failings of his community and he hasn't a clue how far off the mark his exists.
Major segue.
Back to chronology.
Spin to now.
I don't have the tube. I'm not diabetic. I don't drink thickened liquid. I eat regular food with caution. I'm apt to use a straw. It's been a year since I last went to clinic. It's been a year since I've heard from my neurologist.
While some things are heading down hill, others give me hope. The further from the naysayers I go, the more hope dominates my thoughts and the better I feel.
Glad you're back sans superfluous(ha!) holes.
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