I've become one of those boring creatures totally devoid of conversations relating to anything other than my health. Not feeling great does that to a person.
They say that food, clothing and shelter are the basic human needs but you could eat caviar, wear Prada and live in Buckingham Palace and still have a miserable life if the health gods were not smiling on you. On the other hand, how much worse would it be dealing with ill health living on the streets and not knowing where your next meal was coming from. In any man's language, I have it pretty good. I have a specialist in rather nice consulting rooms on Wickham Terrace. And today I was his first patient arriving in very good time despite stopping for a chat to Steve the singing, dancing, juggling Big Issue salesman on the way. This was not an appointment I was going to be late for. My dodgy liver enzymes have been messing with my life for quite long enough and Dr Roberts is the man most likely to hold the answers. He's been my go-to man for all things gastro for well over a decade and his specialities also include hepatology in particular drug-induced liver disease. He's just the kind of bloke I need in my court right now. He got on to his mate at the Brisbane Private Hospital and fast tracked an ultra sound of my internal organs. And as I have his mobile and home number we arranged to chat later in the day. Money may not be able to buy you either love nor good health but it opens the right doors to where you might find them. Right now things have been ruled out but nothing ruled in. Frustrating but each thing eliminated is another piece of the puzzle solved and at least I have a nice warm bed to lie in while I await answers.
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