Today I went and had my gastroscopy in the hospital. I thought I would be late as overslept but I was actually early. Well, the Midazolam and fentanyl put me straight out and it passed without event. Woke up and it had all been done, just the usual struggle to find a vein. Significantly, I was alone last time but my son was happy to collect me today and took me home. You get the initial results and it was chronic pan gastritis and duodenitis, which is far as they went in the small intestine when I think the majority of my troubles are at a level lower in the small intestine, and h pylori positive. Given a script for the same drugs I cannot take. Now just need to wait till mid July for the results of the whole abdomen scan of last week and come up with a plan that doesn’t involve those drugs which made me very ill. My son and I got some lunch and he took me home, looked round the house, said it all needed modernising which it does and agreed to move in, just like that.
We were both surprised when we got in to find the dog in my house and the fridge off and pulled away from the wall. I fell asleep for a while and then Woke up to find pete in the house. He said the electric had gone so he put it back on emergency supply and the fridge had broken. That’s the tv losing its channels, the hot water going and now the fridge. What is the significance of everything breaking at once? I googled it and it said time to move on to the new. Maybe thats true, What I really noticed is that pete did not even ask how I was. He said clearly I need to rest and he just got up and went. There is something so wrong with this. If I think about it I feel I deserve better than that. My son is going to come round on Monday and we are starting the big chuck out of what will be his room. I realised I would need to take an inventory of his and my stuff just to ensure if bailiffs ever got in his would be protected. I did warn hi. That the next few months would probably be filing for bankruptcy. He is very ready to move.
