racoma.com.phJ. Angelo Racoma on technology, economics, writing, problogging, and getting things done

Yesterday morning, Caren endured a series of X-rays to determine
exactly what had been causing her abdominal pains.  She had so
many (about 15 to 20 in all) I try to keep myself from wondering if she
isn’t already growing a third arm from all that radiation.  (But I
did read somewhere that you can theoretically have thousands of X-rays
per day and still be healthy.)

So from 7 in the morning to
noontime, different sets were captured including several using an
intraveinous dye.  We got so used to the X-ray technician’s
instructions (”Take a deep breath … exhale … don’t breathe … you
can resume breathing now” in Filipino) we began joking about it (i.e.
they had classes in school where they recite this in unison, or that he
didn’t make it well as an MRT driver because he announced this litany
everytime the train approaches a station).  We got so bored and
restless we had to amuse ourselves.  But hey, the technician had
quite a good baritone, and was very professional, IMHO.

So what exactly did they find out?  Caren had stones blocking
pasasge of fluid from the kidney into the bladder.  Ouch. 
The doctor recommended removal by blasting the stones with ultrasonic
waves, but we still have to give our final decision by this
morning.  We’re still weighing our options.

Yes, we’re still here.  No discharge order yet, meaning we get to
spend another night in a very uncomfortable and unfamiliar place. 
I’m getting very restless myself. I miss the kids.

I miss the kids.

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