Once I was referred to the gastroenterologist, things began to move in a more positive direction. The doctor listened to my symptoms, took a gallon or six of blood, more CAT scans, ultrasounds, and MRI's, and finally the one test that sealed the deal, a liver biopsy. If you have never had a liver biopsy count yourself lucky. I'll let you in on my fun! After a MRI, a couple of dots from a Sharpie, and a novacaine shot to my ribs, I was ready. The equipment I was stabbed with was scary. It was a foot long needle with a crank at the top. It looked like something that would have been used in the movie, Hostel, to torture an unsuspecting visitor. Though they gave me a local anesthetic for the procedure, there is something about watching a foot long needle go into your ribs that is painful. The pain wasn't sharp, more of a dull pain, that I suspect was more psychological than actual. I knew that somewhere under the anesthetic, this was hurting....a lot! When that was over I laid in the recovery room for an hour or two making sure that there was no internal bleeding or other complications. Now we began another fun game of "Waiting." Within a couple of days, the doctor called and said that the diagnosis was Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, or PSC for short. This was December after my gallbladder was removed and it was great to finally have a name. You would never believe the relief that it brings to finally have a name for something. The symptoms didn't go away, I didn't get better for the time being, but at least I could go home and Google the blasted thing! With the name of the culprit being known, I could begin my own investigation and that felt like a car had been lifted off my chest and mind. Until next time.....
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