Now I know.

I finally got a call back from my doctor.

He confirmed that I have what is essentially an immune disorder.  It’s one of those things where they don’t know what causes it, other than some quirk of genetics and environmental factors combined with immune system function.  Fortunately, the resulting inflammation is fairly limited and mild at this point – and it shouldn’t increase my cancer risk.   However, there’s no cure.  It could get better and go into remission for a while, or it could get worse and spread to other parts of my body.

I have been prescribed some absolutely wonderful (sarcasm!) medication that I’ll have to use every day for the rest of my life, and if I’m lucky, I may be able to someday cut down to taking it two or three times a week.  If it works, it’s worth it.  And at least now I know what’s wrong.

I don’t really want to share the gory details with the world at large. If you want to know, ask.  I’m close enough to some readers that I may tell you even if you don’t ask.  Otherwise, I’ll probably be keeping my thoughts and angst about this on a separate, very anonymous blog.