August 01, 2012


(I normally don't post blogs both places, but I know some of my followers here haven't made the leap to the new blog yet.  I feel like this topic warrants a double post.)

A couple of weeks ago, I scheduled a doctor's appointment but felt uneasy about it. I've been having issues for the past few months, but wasn't confident that my doctor (who I love and think is fabulous) could really help. That particular Monday was an especially bad day, leading me to finally break down and call the doctor.

My appointment was scheduled for 8:30 the next day. I don't know how it works with your doctor, but appointments are never obtained that quickly with mine unless there is bodily fluid oozing out of an orifice.

In the waiting room, I was the first patient to be called back - despite the fact that others were there before me. The normal nurse was out for the day, and the fill-in chatted me up, helping take the edge off my nerves.

Then it was my turn with the doctor. I told her my WebMD diagnosis and waited for her to agree with me. Instead she asked my symptoms. I twisted my hands as I explained my problems have been more intense the past few months, but I suppose they’ve been around for a while now.

Family history was then discussed. I always knew it was a problem most of my family had, but I had never considered it to be significant enough to mention to the doctor. After only providing 3 examples, she interrupted. 
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