Had to go to the hospital today for some more tests because? it seems that an accurate diagnosis on my gastric situation is as elusive as Osama Bin Laden. Today's tests (say hello to your small bowel Lisa!) are supposed to give my dr.'s a clearer picture of what the hell is going on because while I've made some progress I'm still having problems (a polite euphism for still shitting my brains out). And I've been on the steroids for three months now. I was there for a couple of hours, most of the time waiting for whatever the nasty shit I had to swallow went through my system. The really bad thing about being at the hopsital? All those sick people. I don't mean to be unkind or callous, it's just so fricking depressing. Also, is English the first language of ANYONE that works in that hospital? Because it's not like I need to know what you're saying as you point the death rays of radiation at me.
While waiting, I started "Bitter is the New Black" by Jen Lancaster, of
http://www.jennsylvania.com/ -- pretty funny stuff.
