I’m back at work, back on the steroids, and no-one at the Mayo has any idea what’s wrong with my throat.
The number of things that are NOT my problem is getting longer, for what that’s worth.
At the end of this month I have a few more procedures planned, having to do with my Upper G.I. Track. We are grasping at straws, here, still. I just wish that the straws in question were not located so far down my esophagus. I mean, really.
In the meantime, though, I am working, and eating, and sleeping, and muddling through until we get more information.
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