Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 29

THE DOCTOR (MIS)SPEAKS

I recently started seeing a new doctor. Actually, he’s more than a doctor; he’s a retired professor of toxicology from a university hospital here in Switzerland, and works one day a week at the acupuncture clinic where I seem to spend half my life. Or have spent half my life, because I’ve recently hit some sort of acupuncture brick wall, and those magic needles are no longer having an effect on my IBD problems.

 Nevertheless, my lovely Chinese acupuncturist told me about this professor, and said it might be a good idea for me to see him and to discuss my range of symptoms. Because, so far, whenever I’ve spoken to my other doctors about my intestinal issues coupled with joint pain, extreme fatigue, aching bones, disrupted sleep, ankle cramps, an adversity to any sort of tight clothing, and a total lack of interest in food, I’m just met by a disconcerting, blank stare.

 So I went ahead and had a session with the professor who spent close to an hour with me (good!), did some basic examinations (also good!), and I felt like he actually listened. He proposed a full blood panel, which I agreed was a good idea.

 I saw him again two weeks later (it was supposed to be after one week, but he had Covid) to discuss my results. My blood is all hunky-dory, which is good news. Nevertheless, what about my symptoms?

 Cue the usual helpless stare.

 Then came the kicker.

 “You know, Madame,” he said. “You only have Microscopic Colitis. It’s very, very small.”

 It was my turn to stare at him. What the actual heck?

 Maybe he’d like to live with a very very small colitis for a while, and see how he likes not being able to leave the house for days on end, and – even when the D calms down – worrying about going anywhere in case his microscopic enemy decides to have a goofy old gurgle and go absolutely berserk out of the bloody blue!

 Bacteria are very small. So are viruses. And amoeba. And, yeah, mitochondria, too. (showing off memories of my high-school biology).

 Of course, I didn’t remind him of high school biology, or put the longer question to him, which I regretted as soon as I left the building, because isn’t that always the way? It is with me.

 I get that he’s not a gastroenterologist. I know he’s just a human, and that even if he’s a doctor/professor, he can’t know everything. And maybe he had brain fog from Covid, and who know, maybe he banged his head repeatedly on his desk the second I walked out of his office, feeling like a mega moron. In which case he should have come after me and said oops. And I’d have been ok with it.

But no.

 To add to that disastrous day with doctors, later on I had an appointment with the orthopaedic department at Geneva hospital concerning my hip and knee pain. I was seen by an intern who was approximately twelve and a half years old. His stethoscope was far too long and tripped him up (just kidding). Admin had failed to take my knee problem into account when they made the appointment, and this slightly bashful child hadn’t a clue about knees, but he obliged and poked at it for a bit. Which was nice, because he was cute, in a shy little boy sort of way with his dark floppy hair. And then he poked my hips a bit and shrugged and sent me on my grumpy way (although I smiled at him when I left. I’m nice). And then, oh yeah, some twit had forgotten to pay for his parking ticket when he got to the barrier, so I sat there behind him for about three days.

 Pfff!

 I stopped to do the shopping on the way home, and bought four pains au chocolat out of sheer frustration. Bear in mind that I have not touched a pain au chocolat in two years because of IBD, so it wasn’t the smartest move. But there you go. I only meant to eat one, but it was DELICIOUS, and so I thought eating a second one wouldn’t change much, because if I got sick, well I’d get sick from eating just the one, anyway, so I ate another.

 Well, I got VERY sick. Microscopic my ass!

 Later that night, I wrote a Haiku.

 COLOSSAL COLITIS

Microscopic, yes.

But with colossal effects.

Do not poo-poo this!

 

I’m calling it Colossal Colitis from now on.

 So there.

 

CATBADU

She lap leaps,

Flirts through crevices

Claims canoodling spots.

She purrs love vibrations

Dribbles spell potions,

Provides expert microneedling

And fabric customization.

Capricious, entitled,

A self-proclaimed diva de luxe.

Dislodge at your own risk.

CATBADU

She lap leaps,

Flirts through crevices

Claims canoodling spots.

She purrs love vibrations

Dribbles spell potions,

Provides expert microneedling

And fabric customization.

Capricious, entitled,

A self-proclaimed diva de luxe.

Dislodge at your own risk.

MORNING HEADLINES

Racing jigsaw clouds,

A bird skydives for a nut.

The squirrel giggles.

#haiku

COLOSSAL COLITIS

Microscopic, yes.

But with colossal effects.

Do not poo-poo this!

THE TWIT

He’d just got bored, Bert told her, guilt dripping down his weak chin like a cheap vanilla topping.

But he missed her, he insisted, and wanted her to know that these past few months hadn’t been easy for him, either.

 Surely the intensity of his inner struggle was obvious to her by the way he wrung his pudgy little hands.

 Tatum rolled her cornflower blue eyes, raised an elegant eyebrow and shut the front door in his face.

 Despondent and misunderstood, Bert waddled towards his bright blue sports car, gasping at the sharp twinge in his knees as he collapsed into the bucket seat he’d recently installed. Wait; had he put on weight since he ordered it?

 He sorted out his beer belly beneath the steering wheel and sped back to the dodgy area of the outskirts of Boone-Ville where Harriet, his new girlfriend, was waiting in her Pepto-Bismol pink Wyncinette nightie. Harriet had chilled a bottle of the shop on the corner’s finest Don Simon and opened the tin of recently expired olives she’d found lurking in the depths of a kitchen cabinet. That should comfort her elderly, misery-sodden man!

 Bert pulled up outside his new digs and took a deep breath.

 The world was his oyster. If only shellfish weren’t among the many things he was allergic to. 🦞

 

 

WOUNDED

 

Strong and resilient,

Her kind heart remains wounded.

 

Save your guilt, you spineless goon!

#haiku (an angry one!)

THE SIGNAL

Secret smoke signals

Rise from the gilded mountain.

Southbound birds murmur.

#Haiku

HAIKU STRIKE

Don’t mind my fingers,

They are counting syllables.

Haikus strike at night!

(Haikus are great for sleepless nights! 5/7/5)

LIMONCELLO: Beyond Lemonade

When it pours lemons

Forget making lemonade,

Swig limoncello

#haiku