Nothing Is Ever Wrong With Me
Nothing is ever really wrong with me, except when it is. What I mean is this. Over the years I have suffered the odd mysterious malady that seems to not go away for days or weeks. When I finally seek medical attention, the condition simply disappears. That is what happened with my strange eyeball twitching situation. Years ago I was diagnosed with IBS and everyone knows that a “syndrome” is just another word for “we don’t know what’s wrong with you.” I’ve had benign positional vertigo (translation: dizziness), a stress fracture in my left foot that never showed up on X-rays but required me to wear a boot for 4 weeks, and now a mysterious gastrointestinal affliction. Luckily, it’s letting up, and aside from the lingering fatigue that makes me need a nap after accomplishing even a small task (although I would argue that a 45-minute call with AT&T to dispute a shady charge is not small at all), I am feeling better. Just like that. Poof. Meanwhile, I also saw my lady-parts doctor, who has ordered me to get an ultrasound for something labeled “dysfunctional uterine bleeding.” Here we go again.
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