OK. I'm going to tell you that I felt so relieved and elated at the Dr.s' answer to my great question, that to rejoice in it all and calm down has taken way more processing time than I would ever have believed.
Six months is considerable time to take to wrap one’s mind around a new idea of reality.
I'd been frustrated and depressed at having no access, first hand, to my ultrasound so that I could decide whether things were progressing or regressing with the choices I was making for myself.
I could not pry anything that made sense out of that doctor and I was at my wit's end. I realized that I had no clue about where I was on the cirrhosis continuum of progress.
I didn't know whether to give my dog away the next day, or try to outlive him.
So I asked, "On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the Undertaker is coming NOW, where am I in this Cirrhosis process?”
You could have wiped me off the floor when he said "You're at a...two. How old is your dog?"
I said, "Five, but he's a Chihuahua."
"I'd say you've got as good a chance as he has. Take care,"
And he grabbed his folder and left.
I haven't been the same since.
It was the best question I ever asked and I've asked a lot of questions. Believe me.
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