We finally succeeded in seeing Dad's gastroenterologist again. His last appointment was canceled by blizzard. The previous one entailed about a four-hour wait to see the doctor, so I was dreading this drastically, but it wasn't too bad. It was still more than an hour wait and two-plus hours all told. And he said he was going to phone in a prescription but didn't, so that sucked another half hour out of my day unnecessarily, but no meals were missed.
Essentially, nothing Dad has tried has helped with his perpetual burping. The doctor still would like Dad to get off his laxative, which the doc says will eventually stop working and also kill the nerve function down there so nothing else will work either. So he prescribed a stronger, hopefully better laxative. He also scheduled a gastric emptying test for next Wednesday, which is just where Dad eats some scrambled eggs and then they image his stomach every 15 minutes for the next two hours. It ought to be as dull as dialysis but not painful or tiring at least. So maybe we'll get some kind of answers after that.
At the drugstore, the pharmacist phoned around to their other locations to see if the doctor had called in the prescription to the wrong one. He wanted me to leave a number and they could call me when it was ready, but I had an idea how unorganized the doctor's operation is and a sense that we would be waiting for Godot in that case. So I asked him to call the doctor's office. He wasn't optimistic since it was already 5, but he did and it worked. So yay. Of course, the doctor could have just printed and signed a prescription and saved everybody a lot of time and trouble, but was I think the victim of his own good intentions. Worked out in the end, though.
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