After six days of swallowing a handful of pancreatic lipase capsules with every meal I can see some light at the end of the tunnel. Faint, but there it is, incl. a cup of decent coffee with hot milk, outside in the spring sunshine. Never mind that spring at the beginning of February is more than odd, if not downright scary.
Of course, I have consulted dr google only after I read my way through a couple of online articles from scientific journals. I know what happens when you do this the other way round.
I have also chosen to ignore the fact that the capsules are made from the pancreas of dead pigs. (In my defence, I can state that I found this out after I felt the first improvements. But still. My inner vegetarian is however too sick to respond.)
At night, when I wake up and listen to the rumbling and painful cramps in my abdomen, sipping more hideous herb teas and hugging a fresh hot water bottle, I discuss my case with my GP.
I am his best informed patient and he listens quietly while I expand on the probable causes of exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, its therapy options and my suggestions on further steps to be taken. I can do this really well. I have seen enough court room dramas to know how to plead my case of mild hypochondria cum panic. Still, it is quite some work and fills the hours nicely until the dawn chorus sets in.