I spent the last four or so months of last year wondering if I was dying of some awful disease. Not the hypochondriac kind, like some terrible Google disease that nobody has ever heard of but a REAL maybe begins with a "C" disease. I had convinced myself that some organ inside me was plotting my untimely demise.
I had mammograms. Ultrasounds. Girly exams. Even my gallbladder removed, which I don't recommend. It's not nearly as anti-traumatic as Grey's Anatomy portrays. The ultrasound showed a gallstone in there that magically disappeared between the ultrasound and the pathologists petri dish. I'm convincing myself that it fell out of the dish and got kicked under the table in the pathologists office rather than believe that its still rolling around my tummy like a pinball.
I am apparently the worse surgery patient on the planet. What should have been a simple laproscopic surgery with a 3 day recovery turned into a 2 week, use ALL.YOUR.VACATION.DAYS. five month later still not 100% ordeal. In addition, lets throw in a scope down my throat to see if said gallstone might be hanging out with some friends somewhere in there. The only good thing during all of this was a couple of REALLY nice naps complements of Propofol and a really nice anesthesiologist. I recommend using one of those so things don't go really bad like with Michael Jackson.
Now minus one gallbladder and about 30 pounds I'm feeling almost normal so I'm fairly sure I don't have any life threatening diseases.
My New Years resolution is to see a lot less doctors and unlike most people I'm hoping to put on about 10 pounds.