More Changes than Indiana Weather

People. People, people, people.

I'm not sure at what point our lives became an ongoing chronicle of doctor's appointments, but it seems we've entered our geriatric late thirties, and we're just grateful you show up each day to hear about our latest ailments.

As you may remember from, you know, every other post this week, we've been eagerly awaiting the birth of little Myrtle Stone Shaffer, the promised kidney stone of 2017. No one has been waiting more eagerly than Ryan, believe me.

So many people have been kind to check in on us this week, to ask if he's home resting, and that would be a no. He's been working, because health care marches on, Myrtle or no Myrtle. Other things that march on, Myrtle or no Myrtle, would be Tuesdays at the Table.

We had our first gathering of 2017 scheduled for this past Tuesday night, featuring our friends John and Sandee, who were SUCH a help to us in our move last year. Sandee helped me with painting and cleaning {and marking boxes off my master list as they came off the truck}, and both of them helped us move the garage stuff. We so appreciated all they did and wanted to host them as a thank-you. They offered to reschedule, but Ryan insisted we go forward with our plans. So all Tuesday afternoon, I worked hard on dinner and baked cookies for dessert.

Ryan broke out Daryl the Drone and gave him a test run, even though he's been too sick to play with him lately, and we all gathered around to eat together.

I could see it in Ryan's face not long after dinner was over. He was hurting again. I asked several times if he was okay, and he braved forward, but finally he admitted he needed to go lay down. We hurried and took our group picture, and before they were even gone, he was changing into sweats and curling up in a little ball.

And about twenty minutes later, we were in the car, headed for here. Again. For the second time in two days.

 I just sat and cried in the waiting room, watching him all bent over and trying to breathe through the pain, waiting longer and longer, because people kept coming in with chest pains and seizures and all manner of things that bumped us farther down the list. It was horrible. I knew the kind of pain he was having, and I hated every single second of it for him.

We finally got a room, and I took out my novel to keep reading about life in The Secret Garden, and Ryan was taken in and out as they ran a whole new battery of tests on him. Once again, the staff was kind and attentive, and I appreciated their attempts to figure out what in the world was going on.

About three hours later, with pain greatly subsided again, we were sent on our merry way with the following news: Myrtle is probably gone. Or maybe she never was. We don't know. But at any rate, she doesn't seem to be around for now. What the doctor thought was the culprit was an ulcer.

I could see that. After all, with all my gallbladder issues from years gone by, my diagnosis was almost always an ulcer, so I know the symptoms are very similar. But seriously? An ulcer? In Ryan? It seemed unlikely. But you know, it was almost midnight, and we had no better alternative, so we took the news and went home.

Yesterday, Ryan went to work and began to talk it over with all his co-workers, and one of them recommended that he check with the doctor that actually diagnosed my gallbladder issues. One conversation and that doctor wasn't buying the ulcer diagnosis. Not for a minute. Gallbladder, he said.

But we had a scan! It said the gallbladder was okay!

He said the scans don't always show gallbladder stones. Ultrasounds do, so Ryan will have one today to see if it turns up any fun new surprises.

We're exhausted. Ryan's exhausted from the pain, and I'm exhausted from chasing the ever changing diagnosis down the road. It's a kidney stone! It's an ulcer! It's your gallbladder! AAAHHHHHH!!!!!

So we're doing our best to hang tight and be faithful and wait {gulp} patiently. And for the past several hours, Ryan's actually felt pretty well. But we'll continue to gratefully accept your prayers for answers. Real answers. Answers that lead to a treatment that heals.

Whew!

 Tomorrow's blog goals: to write about normal thirty-something happenings.