Stomach viruses suck. So do rotten stomachs, which is something I’ve had since I was a little kid. All my worry is processed in my stomach, so I often hear people groan “You and your stomach.” My depression wasn’t diagnosed until after they first performed a bunch of stomach tests including the “drink liquid chalk and let them take funny pictures of your insides with radiation and pretend they see something while hiding behind protective walls” test. They didn’t find anything with all the tests, so they said “Passin’ the ball to you, mental people!”
They do this a lot because it is well known, by doctors anyway, that the brain and other bodily organs have absolutely nothing to do with one another even though they are all part of the same body. Each organ should have someone different taking care of it, these people should not communicate, and if it happens to be something none of these specialists understand, it’s off the the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist being the one guy who does not issue funky tests unless you want to count the “Hey, try this drug. It probably won’t kill you.” test.
But, wait, Alice, you might say, isn’t there research saying there is a strong mind-body connection? Haha, don’t be silly. Where did you get that from? John Hopkins? Mayo Clinic? Frauds, I tell you! The majority of doctors are far too busy misdiagnosing people and making sure their malpractice insurance is up to date to look at stupid research.
Well it turns out I do have depression and anxiety which do affect bodily systems, like my gut. My GP ran some tests and informed me that my liver test wasn’t normal – it was like, way better than other livers! Like, go liver! Except that hey I still feel like crap. So he decided I would have a Cholescintigraphy (Also Called Gallbladder Radionuclide Scan or HIDA scan) performed. It’s a test that checks gallbladder function. And you read that right, boys and girls. It involves radioactive crap – only instead of just a scan, they shoot this little tracer thingy up into your veins!
I was super excited about this test, especially after the nurse said I got to be a super hero and just in time for Halloween! I always wanted to be Spiderman. Shooting webs from your hands and bouncing from building to building sounds like fun. Superheroes get all the perks. Like I bet Superheroes don’t have to work, not if they’re smart. Why blend in with the population when you can be totally famous just being yourself? Huh, Spidey? Enough whining about personal responsibility and crap. Have some fun.
So they injected me with the radiation, but I didn’t immediately get super powers. Instead they had me lie under this table with my arms held up in a sling and this scanner looming over me while they took pictures of my organs. I wonder if they saw my liver and thought to themselves – there is a LIVER. Give it first prize. I hope they saw my liver anyway. Because what they didn’t see was my gallbladder.
Yup, supposedly I was to lay there thirty minutes while they took glamour shots of my gallbladder, then they were to give me some other stuff, possibly nitroglycerin so I could explode my radiation all over the place, that was going to show them how my gallbladder functioned. This was all supposed to take an hour. Only they never took any pictures of my gallbladder because, after a lengthy search, they couldn’t find it. Yup, that’s right, they lost an organ. I’m pretty sure I’d remember having an organ out. Clearly these doctors could have used a good map.
I figured they were going to send in another tracer to help with the search party, or consult with a specialist like that dog from Blue’s Clues, but no, she just told me to go. So I asked like, “What was the doctor going to get from this if they didn’t find the organ?” “Oh, he’ll know something just by not finding it”, she said. Know what? She couldn’t say. Right. So after that, and a rather hefty bill, I’m left more confused than I was before the test, which I’m pretty sure is how they are designed.
But that’s okay, because according to the nurse, I am still radioactive for the next couple of days at least. Don’t mess with me. I’m the Nuclear Librarian, you guyz.