While Wednesday’s GloopGloop episode was bemusing (if disgusting/nauseating/lengthy/incompetently executed), Thursday’s ultrasound was nerve-wracking (if well-performed/quick/not gross). My technician was an elegant, kind woman in her late 30s who seemed to know a lot about a lot, but I lost my nerve in the procedure room and asked her not to tell me what it was she saw, if she saw anything.

If nothing, based on my ultrasound experience, I now have the location of my own gallbladder, liver and bile duct pinpointed with great accuracy. I also learned exactly how far it all whumps over when I lay on my left side (creepy/further than you’d think). But I won’t know until Monday if any of those organs/devices are operational/mis-aligned/lumpy/cranky.

Dr. Gravitas called mid-day Thursday to tell me to chill the hell out (he was much nicer than that). He said that my Wednesday tests had come back all flying-colors like. Not just a “pass”, but an epiphany to him. He could not recall a previous episode in which a Crohn’s patient, after diagnosis and surgery, had a full barium follow-through like that. He was audibly fascinated. Neither he nor the attending radiologist would have noticed–other than an absent appendix–that I didn’t have an ileum anymore. It’s like my body compensated and went all Claire-Bennett-from-Heroes-like. Cool.

I’m utterly convinced they made me drink too much barium. As Dr. G put it, “Barium isn’t meant to be…in people.” Very upsetting things happened to my plumbing (I don’t mean that metaphorically, I mean it in physical manifestation–in my house). I now know how to use myself to concoct quicksand!

To add insult to sludge-injury, apparently the folks supervising the follow-through neglected to tell me about the significant misery that could have been avoided by prophylactic application of various over the counter panaceas. During my ultrasound the next day, I had to keep one leg up when laying on my back–the pressure in my tubes was jabbing.

I’ll let you know about Monday!