Yo tengo reflujo (I have acid reflux)

Well, I will say that being married to my wife is totally awesome for many, many reasons and that I'm really happy about that. But one thing that marraige brings, aside from happiness, is that I have bonafide health and dental insurance for the first time in about 3 years (national health in the UK doesn't really count). That's definitely a good thing, generally, but is also quite negative in some ways seeing as how: a) I hate doctors, b) my wife loves them, and c) not going to a doctor for a problem in this family is non-negotiable.

So, after seeing that I have seriously common heartburn, my lovely little wife insisted that I go see a doctor. Not just any doctor, mind you, a doctor that she knows and works with (and whose son I'm now teaching English to). He's a very nice man with perfect English and is quite notable in the gastro-whatever field down here in Colombia, so at least I felt like I was going to the best (as if my wife would have had it any other way).

However, the prescription for "gastritis" is an endoscopy. For those of you unfamiliar with this nasty little procedure, it's basically where they slap a camera on the end of a long fiber optic cable, shove it down your throat into your stomach, and have a look around. Not exactly the most sophisticated concept, but effective, I suppose.

My dear wife, who came with me, took special glee in not just watching the TV monitor and seeing the inside of my esophagus and stomach, but also thoroughly enjoyed the detailed explanation that the doctor gave - in spanish - and of which I understood the general point. Inflamation, redness, and something, something...

At any rate, they start the process by spraying your throat with some nasty sort of liquid that Jenna Jamison probably uses when she shoots her gang bang videos. It tastes like ass, but it also numbs your throat so that you can accept...ahem...large objects with little trouble. Not that it feels good exactly. In fact, it's one the least comfortable 5 minutes (or so) that I've had in recent memory.

At the end, the diagnosis was pretty straightforward. I have chronic reflux disease, for which there is no cure, and a bit of my stomach has migrated northward, for which I do not need surgery because it's very minor indeed. We have to wait on the results from the samples they took to see if the cause is bacteriological. If it is, then there is a relatively easy cure involving pharmaceuticals. Either way, my wife is pleased as pudding because the "most appropriate medicine" for my condition is produced by Johnson & Johnson and she happens to be the product manager for that medicine (as well as a dozen other medicines). Anything to make the wife happy.

I'm also sure that this means in the very near future I will be going to a different specialist to have an MRI for my migraine's. I get them about twice a month and my sweet wife has already laid the groundwork for such a venture. Apparently that procedure involves injecting the patient with an eerie blue rave-like substance so that the MRI can reveal if there is any "leakage" in the brain that could be causing the migraine's. I can't wait.

And to top that all off, I went to the dentist the other day for the first time in about 4 years and I have 4 cavities. Three of them are very small, but one is "grande", so I'm going to have to get those sorted out on Tuesday. At least my teenage jaw surgery severed enough nerves to dull a significant portion of the pain in my mouth/face area. Because I can't imagine that getting some cavities dug out with a sharp and pointy drill is any fun at all - no matter how much novocaine they use.

Marriage. Who said it wasn't good for you?