Thursday, July 10, 2008
Do I look nutty to you? Well, maybe that's a loaded question.
Today I went to Vanderbilt Medical Center for a checkup. For those of you who don't know, I have Crohn's Disease. It's an auto immune disorder that affects your digestive tract. In layman's terms, it's like having the most horrendous stomach virus of your life every day. It's like that movie Groundhog Day only with Montezuma's revenge.
Sometimes I feel like Ice Cube's Dad on that series of movies called Friday, Friday after Next, etc...remember him? When he's got to go to the bathroom and he's running through his landladies house yelling, "I've got big business to tend to...I'm like the Governor." Well people, I'm like the Governor ALL the time. You never know when I'm gonna have BIG business.
All I can figure is I am definitely getting paid back for some BAD karma. I must have been a bad mo-fo. You know Mother Teresa didn't come back having the runs 24/7. Gandhi? I'm sure he didn't reincarnate to crap himself til he was dehydrated or know every bathroom in the tri-county area.
Anyhoo, today my doctor had me see the disease psychologist (as he does all his patients). He evaluates how you are handling the stress of your illness.
This was the most ridiculous meeting I have ever had. He tried to tell me if I could control my type A "anxiety" ridden personality and tell my kids to let me be for 30 minutes a day to meditate that alot of my disease process would disappear. What the?
He also had the nerve to tell me that after moving to a rural Tennessee town from Boston thirty years ago, that he decided to move to the more urban area of Nashville to raise his kids where they wouldn't be raised near tobacco farmers, be close to good coffee and where he could buy the New York Times. Apparently the rest of us are heathen, uneducated, agricultural hicks.
When I explained how I was comforted by the thought of raising my children in a rural area where I know the ends and outs of families in the community...in other words...I know who my kids are spending time with. I know their parents, their grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. He told me that I worry to much about my children...that wondering who my kids were hanging out with was not good for me? Isn't that my job as a parent? What kind of ding-dong am I fooling with?
And besides, who has time to meditate? I guess I will meditate while I'm on the shitter. But wait, I can't even do that alone. Ella has started coming into the bathroom and patting me on the back and saying, "Poop, Momma, Poop."
As I was leaving, I ask him if I was nutty and he said if I was nutty he could smell me. This was his lame attempt at being funny. So I ask him if I was shitty...and I don't even think he got it.
Any one that has a disease that makes you crap all the time knows one thing, if you don't have a sense of humor...You need to be flushed down the loo.