The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Control.

Again, with the doctor. Oy vey.

So, another 'attack', another insurgent upset in the middle of me. It started earlier than the other, around ten o'clock at night, and it had me up until nearly four, which was not to my liking. I could not find a position which alleviated the pain at all, so I sat up, rocking back and forth, trying to find a distraction. Lucky for me (?), there was film on I'd been wanting see called 'Control', a biopic about Ian Curtis from Joy Division. It was depressing, but it was always going to be because there would have been no way around the ending. Still, it was filmed in black and white and the music! It took me back in time, brought me to a feeling I've not identified with in years. It was ominous, perhaps, off-putting. I sat there, next to the Christmas tree, under a gold throw blanket and I felt as though I were in another dimension, everything creepily unfamiliar. I suppose this was the aim of the film, so if that's the case, well done.

Anyway, the pain. So, M. said that this is 'ridiculous' and he took it upon himself to schedule me for an appointment, yet again. What is there to say I haven't said before? The severity of the pain is slightly more than before, and the attacks are now coming on more frequently, but does this make me emergent? What I really wanted to know, though, was whether or not they are certain that this is indeed my gall bladder. I've no proof, you see, and I am very much about the proof.

The doctor was understanding and patient. She said that the initial tests show that my pancreas is fine, and that what I"m experiencing is very much in line with a gall bladder attack/biliary colic. She prescribed pain medication when an attack happens, and gave me the paperwork to have bloodwork done after an attack has ended. I don't foresee me skipping to the lab any time soon, though. I hate needles and blood equally. I whined about missing out on the premium foods of the holiday season, and she nodded sympathetically before saying, 'what else can you do?'.

Whatever.

I am off to watch Wall-E, which is supposed to be great, and I will eat one of the chocolate chip cookies I just baked, hopeful that it won't send me into another sleepless, black and white night. I have lost nine pounds and you'd think this would make me happy, but it does not.

Christmas salad does not seem like a tempting alternative to the usual stuff.