I had it all set up. I was finally going to do something about this pimple in my asshole (which apparently is an anal fistula -- a K60.3?; the doctor I spoke to a couple weeks ago said that no wart would last more than a year). I was going to get surgery on it next week, the very latest I could do with my parents being abroad, while leaving in a week in case something majorly bad happens. (I could have done it the week after if my assignment at the flu billing place were to end. For all I know it could end tomorrow, I've just been too chickenshit to ask, so ... I'm not.) I don't want to miss time and money at my temp job, but it has to be done; there is no better time to get this operation than with my parents being gone. Or so I thought.
We Skyped for New Year's Day. On the video, which took place at my sister and brother-in-law's place, I saw them, and Mother, but not Father. Whew! was my first thought.
But then, after I asked them (obligatorily) how is their vacation up to this point, Mother flatly said it's sucking. Why? Father is sick. He was complaining that he couldn't piss. Then he got bloated, so this wasn't just some grumpy old man schtick, he was really sick. So they went to the Swiss emergency room, where they put a catheter in. He can't pee, but he is no longer bloated. And so long as they change the catheters, he is fine. Of course, his urethra is still shot, and the prostate is still enlarged, but as my sis said, the most pressing issue has been mitigated.
That doesn't mean that things are all hunky-dory, though. Father insists on continuing with the trip, but Mother says he walks around with a hunch at his waist, and he continues to grip his love handles as if they're killing him. So, they're thinking about cutting the trip short and flying back to get his doctor to look at it ASAP.
Problem: Well, it's my problem because I'm selfish, but there's absolutely no fucking way I'm prepared for these guys to come home. By that I mean the place is a fucking pigsty. I thought I'd give myself a week to throw all the papers into storage and do a half-ass job of cleaning up the place, but that was, like, the week before they were supposed to come home. I don't think I can just pivot and clean up over, say, the weekend if they decided to come back early. And then I know both of my parents will piss and moan over, "Why can't you clean up? Are you a fucking pig?" And then I'll tell them they're bad parents and they'll throw me out ... it'll be just ugly. And if they do decide to end their trip early, ugly is how the homecoming will be.
There are health considerations to staying there. Thank Buddha that this happened when my folks reached the part of their trip where they met up with my sister and brother-in-law; that way they'll at least be able to navigate through a foreign health insurance system. If this happened even days before then, like in Amsterdam or Germany, I'm afraid they'd be screwed. Also, contrary to what I had heard and read, medical expenses in Switzerland are competitive compared to that of the United States. They told me, for example, that when he went into the ER, it cost them about $500. The downside is that expenses are out-of-pocket over there. My old man's over 65, so if he flies back home, anything he gets for his enlarged prostate will be covered by Medicare.
A decision will be made Monday. That is when the urologist of the hospital whose ER they went to will come back from holiday. (Shouldn't doctors be on call every day of the year, including New Year's? They are here -- aren't they?) If something really bad happens to the point where they wouldn't have time to fly back over the Atlantic, they need to get that done over there. However, if it's something that can wait because of the catheter ... well, they still might come home because it might suck for Father to walk around with something stabbed, meat thermometer-style, into his bladder. I will have this weekend to myself, at least, in which I will do absolutely nothing.
In the meantime, it's full sail ahead for eliminating my fistula. It has to. I thought about cancelling it (as evidenced by my now-inaccurate-but-clever [at least in my opinion] blog post title, but I wouldn't know if I would have to cancel until the week of the operation, and even if they do decide to come back early, I don't want to keep wiping my ass and see blood. They're not going to like that I have to have surgery too, and I know they'll piss and moan about that. ("You know why you have a wart on your butt? Because you sleep too much!" "Shut up, that's not true, I fucking hate both of you!!" "You don't like what I say? Get the fuck out!!!") But it's too late. And to think I could keep this fistula a secret from them forever.
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