It's the pre -oscopy day. I woke up with that peculiar sort of hunger and did my best, eating broth with chunks of pig spleen and liver floating where there should've been leafy greens, intestine, tongue, and thick-sliced root vegetables. And I resort to cliches to explain that hunger: the bad combination of being half (or just over) of a normal weight and accustomed to sustenance every three or so hours, coupled with the overnight fasting punctuated by great water-rocket launches of diarrhea.
It's the difference between the fat man complaining of hunger when his metabolism turns to adipose tissue, and me saying, "I need some food, right now," with the subtext, or I'll keel over, hopefully on you or something soft.
And then came the minivan trip.
I still maintain that if the colonoscopy prep is medicine's worst, it's nothing compared to Nepalese street food, and no trip in the world takes longer than a public bus ride in Nepal.
Which is not to imply it was a pleasant trip.
But somehow, the diagnosis of a hard-to-beat bacterial infection in the leg and equally hard to spot and beat giardia in the gut, plus the prospect of a multiple -oscopy, might give them something to work on, and maybe from there they can fix things up.
It's the difference between the fat man complaining of hunger when his metabolism turns to adipose tissue, and me saying, "I need some food, right now," with the subtext, or I'll keel over, hopefully on you or something soft.
And then came the minivan trip.
I still maintain that if the colonoscopy prep is medicine's worst, it's nothing compared to Nepalese street food, and no trip in the world takes longer than a public bus ride in Nepal.
Which is not to imply it was a pleasant trip.
But somehow, the diagnosis of a hard-to-beat bacterial infection in the leg and equally hard to spot and beat giardia in the gut, plus the prospect of a multiple -oscopy, might give them something to work on, and maybe from there they can fix things up.
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