So, one of the things I haven't touched upon in here, or touched upon only obliquely, is that during my recent bout of extreme anxiety and moderate depression, I had a concurrent health concern. And when I say "concern", yes, I was very concerned about it. I was especially concerned because three different doctors on four different occasions at my PCP's office blew me off and told me nothing was wrong with me. One of them quite condescendingly in a "you're just hysterical, Andrea" kind of way. Well, I'll give her that. I was hysterical at the time. This does not belie that I was having physical symptoms.
Now, chickens, we all do know that one of the things my anxiety settles upon when I am not doing well is my body and my health. And we all know that I am very prone to googling my symptoms and catastrophizing. WebMD is not my friend and I know that. (Mr Barma thinks this is hilarious. When I was in the midst of ranting to him about how no one was taking my symptoms seriously and positing my theories of what obscure problems I probably had/have, he sent me a link to an episode of The Big Bang Theory that deals with Sheldon's hypochondria. Which is totally unfair as I have *never* demanded a full body MRI. Yet. Anyway, I like to think that Mr Barma finds this hilarious in a cute-n-charming way, and you all do too, but I guess the jury is still out.)
Nevertheless, even when the doctor who thought I was hysterical prescribed benzos for me to calm me right the fuck down, my symptoms remained. As I said to my own doctor, "Just because I'm crazy, and I am, doesn't mean there's not something physically wrong with me." That got him to prescribe something for my problem, as, frankly, a pat on the head. Probably because he was just throwing antibiotics at me without trying to actually figure out what was wrong, they didn't work, and my symptoms remained. So finally at my last visit, he agreed to refer me to a specialist. Make me someone else's problem, as it were.
Well, my appointment with the specialist is on Wednesday, approximately two weeks from the day I made the appointment. And as of this weekend, my symptoms are finally almost completely cleared up. I'm sure by Wednesday, I will be completely fine, after almost two months of this. And the specialist is gonna look at me and write in my chart "whacko." And send a report to my PCP saying so.
But, really, as god is my witness, read the title of this post. Son of a bitch.
xoxo
7 comments:
Just because you're sick, doesn't mean it's not funny, too. ;-)
I would think that *continually* mocking your arnica source might prove unwise, but some people do like to live on the edge :-PPPPPP
Besides which, I *told* you how you could help stem my cyberchondria and you demured (probably because, yes I do realize, continually mocking me instead is so much more amusing.)
:-)
::smooch::
For the record, I am NOT mocking!
Teasing, perhaps...
Any cyberchondriac worth her salt should have no trouble turning up all the research studies showing humor to be an effective agent against many ills. (Think of me as your own personal Dr. Patch Feelgood). Therefore, I'm taking full credit for the elsewise unexplained recovery, and defying you to prove otherwise without giggling.
I think you could just slip some capsaicin into his arnica to kind of get even, and to see if Mr B is still laughing then.
Funny, Ms Crispix and I were just talking about how what are now perfectly respectable disorders were "all in your head" only a few years ago. Let the physicians find a cure and all of a sudden--as soon as its reimbursable anyway--they'll treat it.
Fuckers...
Like "restless leg syndrome" ?
I was told over and over by my PCP that all of my symptoms were stress related and that it was all in my head. But then, oops, I have celiac disease.
Yeah, exactly, Jean. It's "all in your head" till the biopsy comes back positive. Jerks.
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