pours

Been feeling a bit .. well, a bit of lots of things. We went back to the doctor, Mum needed some prescriptions and I had to see what those blood tests from last week turned up. Or if they turned up anything. And, well. They did. Just not where I was expecting.

He did a range of antibody tests including ANA, and they were all negative. This rules out a lot of autoimmune/rheumatic conditions. The two things that were not negative were my ESR and CRP. (In fact, I have never had a blood test where those two things were within normal ranges.) Of course, these are very non-specific, and when you feel like I do but are negative on everything except those, what does non-specific equal? Fibro. Which pretty much nothing can be done about. Well, some people reckon certain antidepressants can have an effect but I’m already on a pretty high dose of one, so. He did give me a referral to a different doctor, technically just a GP but he’s specialised in seeing people with Chronic Fatigue, Fibro and other “we don’t really know what’s wrong with you so let’s just give it a name to shut you up” type conditions. So I will get myself to that guy and see if he can tell me anything different.

Only thing is that’s actually the “good news” part of the whole escapade. Turns out some of the general tests they just run for fun when you get blood tests flagged some really bad results for liver function. He says the most common cause of this is fatty deposits in the liver. I am having an ultrasound this afternoon to look and see if I have such deposits. Basically you fix it by losing weight. Ok, I said. Let’s assume it does turn out to be this. I am not opposed to exercise, but the reason that I do not do as much as I could or should is because I fucking hurt all the time. See: “fibro.” It’s really fucking difficult to motivate oneself to be that active when doing it leaves you in large amounts of pain or almost not able to move. In which case, he says, you basically have to attack it by a diet of starvation. Eat nothing nice, ever again, he said. Ok, he didn’t say that. Go extremely low carb, he said. “No potatoes, no pasta, no rice.” Oh, NICE, you just listed three of my four favourite foods. The last one being chocolate which is also not really recommended.

I don’t really mean this, really, but.. part of me almost hopes I have some kind of fucking tumour and it’s just simple old cancer which they could cut out and then my liver could grow back and everything would be fine. (I know cancer is not simple.) I would not describe myself as a carb junkie or anything, but.. most of the things I eat feature them in one form or another. Potato is my default vegetable. I love potato. I love pasta. I love rice. There is an anecdote about me, when I was maybe 10ish or so, my grandparents took me out for dinner with them to the Big Pineapple. It had a smorgasbord. They were kind of horrified and embarrassed when on one trip to the food section resulted in me returning with a bowl full of plain white rice. Apparently, it is supposed to be an accompaniment to all the other stuff there. A side dish. What-the-fuck-evs. I like rice.

So switching stuff up and cutting out carbs is a pretty fucking radical thing and it seems like a really fucking cruel twist from the universe. I already don’t drink and don’t do drugs. I already struggle to find a single meal that I can make to feed five people, and I am the most agreeable out of us all. I recently got really strict and said that people have to have what is cooked or else they go hungry. I made them write me lists of things they don’t like. If a thing is not on the list then they are not allowed to decline to have it. If they only like part of a meal then they are expected to eat all the parts they like and we will compromise on the rest. And this isn’t going too badly. So, hey. LET’S THROW A FUCKING WRENCH IN THAT. And on top of that, switching out to all vegetables all the time is going to be an expensive switch. Ok, there can be meat too. Lean meat. (Which I am pretty sure does not include bacon. Assholes.) But again, meat, not exactly cheap. And me, not exactly in full operating order and able to whore myself out in return for currency.

Who wants to feel like a fucking burden?

The reason this NAFLD is a problem is because it’s basically an early warning for further damage. Like developing into full on cirrhosis and liver failure resulting in death and/or increased risk of hepatic cancer. Of course, I did not need elucidation of what death by liver failure looks like. And I don’t want that to happen. Trying to assume that it will be this NAFLD which is the least bad outcome and yet it represents such a huge fucking change. To 37 years worth of taste and diet and cooking. To forcing me to have to double up on meal preparation. It would not be a stretch to say I am feeling rather unfairly personally victimised by my liver right now. It’s not like carbohydrates are bad for you. It’s not like it was a known unhealthy thing that I could have made a choice to not do. Everyone eats sandwiches. Everyone loves a nice spag bol. (Fine, not everyone. But most people.) I have chosen to avoid the things that they tell you are bad. I don’t drink. I don’t do LSD or heroin or even fucking weed. I wear sunscreen and avoid going out during peak UV times. I wear a seatbelt. I wash my hands after I pee. I don’t drink a whole lot of soft drink and I especially don’t drink the ones with artificial sweeteners. Ok, I do have one cup of coffee each morning and I do eat some chocolate. But I didn’t expect that was going to make me have a serious liver problem. And yes, I do not do as much physical activity as is recommended. But as I already pointed out, there’s a fucking reason for that.

Sometimes I feel like it would just be easier to die. I’m not suicidal. I’m not looking to go and kill myself. Just seems like it would be less complicated for all involved if I do have something that is going to take me out. But I am scared. Not of dying. But of Daniel not being there. Living or dying, hugely scary things, except for when he is there with me. His hand is the difference between the cowardly lion and the fearless warrior.

pours

howdy.