Good news, bad news, odd news

Here's the good news; nothing growing in my throat, and the ENT Doctor almost left me speechless.  The guy listened, never interrupted me, never twisted what I said, or asked a question, then interrupt the answer.  In other words, he was nothing like the others.

I made an effort to have my thoughts together so I could get him up to speed quickly and concisely.  I'm still stunned at how attentively and pleasantly he listened.  Not since the dermatologist, Lopez, have I experienced anyone paying such attention.

It goes back to the less than satisfactory internist, Flores.  Except I have no intention of dealing with him further.  And I agree with this new guy, Dr. Keith Jackson, that it is in the esophagus, and it is muscle spasms.  Not sure the cause.  But in order not to step on toes, he sends it back. Plus, it is what I told them I thought.

Anyway, if you need an ear, nose, and/or throat specialist in San Diego County, Jackson is the person to find.  Besides every room in his 5th floor office, waiting room and exam room included, has  a real great view of city and mountains.

The bad news is that I can't get this guy to take over for hematologists, and internists.  Good news, not throat issue, per se.   This may be fixable; almost certainly is.

Sometimes, often, I post stuff here because I want a record in case I forget, I can check and see where I have been.  It was odd, in my mind, that nothing would be seen, but I had told people, when I called in pain, that it was below my throat, behind sternum, upper sternum.   People with poor problem solving skills in any line of work tend to annoy me.

There is a very good chance I can fix this issue, and that maybe a maintenance does of the poison, eventually, is all I have to worry with, and that I will experience a near miraculous outcome.  Already, much of that has happened.

Next step, I go to TSA to see if they can run imaging to check for esophageal contraband.  If anything in there was missed by Dr Useless, or awakened during the scopy deal,  we'll find out.  Especially if it is shaped like a gun, or like a pop tart shaped like a gun.

I think I won't be a goner for a long time yet.  Maybe I'll get my place cleaned up. That is just about the entire bucket list.

Today was good, and that may be a bad timing if people want to run cameras up your nose.  Nothing to see here, move along.  If I had not seen data that was irrefutable, I would think I made up this entire saga and that I was creating all my own troubles.  Except when some sort of episode is in progress.  Then I don't think so.   But I do believe I will be as close to cured as it gets.  It is obviously headed that way.

Miracle boy. Or destined to never really have it all that tough.  Seriously, it is my fate, and the consistency of this syndrome is what encourages me to even entertain the idea of destiny.  It may take a minute, but this deal is going to work out OK.  It is remarkable how one can consciously influence physical maladies mentally.  I try to remember.  When I do, all is much better and more easily handled.  It won't make things perfect, but it helps.

Some people have things to learn.  It can be entertaining and interesting.



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