Um, they don't know.
I have diverticulosus.<--spelled wrong, (But it's healing nicely.)
A lung condition of unknown origin. (I suspect it's due to smoking.)
I also have some odd pigmentation thing going on--my arms are spotted.
I have gastro-intestinal problems, that may be gluten related. (They don't know yet.)
Um, I have degenerative disk disease. But I'm told everyone over forty-five does.
My eyes are bad.
*shrug* Aren't everybody's?
sciatica, and doesn't everybody?
and yeah, I'm flat footed. Not a problem with the right shoes.
I was surgically slammed into the mat of menopause, so I really never know if I have a flu-type virus--hot flashes make me cold and clammy anyhow.
I just blow my nose alot, and I enjoy it.
It makes my ears pop.
And I don't think any of this is evil-bad-illness.
I am a better being than I have been for a long, long time. I sleep well, and I drink milk and eat proteins--and I love apple juice.
I cut my cigs (I failed my cessation) but I did cut my habit in half, and I think I breathe more oxygen. ? I'm trying to decide if I should order vegemite again--I love the stuff, but the salt is outrageous--and I could lick tablespoons of the black shiny tar with a glad heart and five thousand wheat thins.
And oh...I have this mini-trampoline.
I jumped on it yesterday and screamed "T'WANDA!"
I hurt like hell today, but still walked circles around the beloved French Quarter.
So all in all, I think I'm okay.
I'm just gonna be forty-eight real soon.
Oh. I have a mass of unknown specs on the outside of my tummy, but it's probably just scar tissue,and perhaps mildly herniated since I um, fell off the mini trampoline eight months ago, and hey? My white blood cells are FINE.
My pressure is perfect, too.
I'm still kinda hypoglycemic, but I think I just need to down some more "slippery nipple" shots and that situation should correct itself.
But I definitely need glasses.
EYE glasses, not . . . shots.
oh lawsy...lessee...I need a pedicure and some sun on my legs, and a nice spine adjustment and massage. Slather me in mud, and dunk me in salt water, then douse me with a cold hose and cocoa butter.
I don't think I'm sick at all.
I think I am suffering self-neglect.
* * *
Ya'll are stunned in amazement.
* * *
but that's the laundry list. I need, oh, two more tests, a bone density thingie, and a mammogram, before we do the hormone panels in August.
I think I'm doing pretty damned well.