So when do you leave a doctor and when do you stay? A culture to be sent in wasn’t nor did I receive a call-back about sonogram results. I had to make an appointment to find out, which also meant waiting over an hour to see her due to her popularity, or over-booking, or both. She tried to make it right by scraping my insides once again, but the stuff that came out of a few weeks ago, that I had already brought for culture, is not present now. This time she had someone call immediately to let me know the latest sample was negative, but is it? Maybe I have a rotten ovary or the big C word.
She kept evading the issue of ‘where is the C & S’ report,’ and moved her chair closer, so close I could hardly breathe let alone keep focused and ask the hard questions. I kept moving my chair back away from her. She’s not blind or stupid. She got it. And excused herself leaving the room. I didn’t know it was to speak to a couple of others about the mix-up then the office manager.
She returned, shepherding me into another room to go over the sonogram. While waiting for her return, I had serendipitously read a pamphlet about how much time your doctor spends with you. If it’s always hurried and no longer than 5 minutes, you have the wrong doctor. I had that to embolden me. She gave me the time I needed and answered all my questions. But I had to ask again about the culture because she seemed to be evading it completely, not a good sign. Because if she’s just worried about how she looks, my health is in jeopardy as she tries to hide the fact that someone dropped the ball, maybe her. Then nothing is done presently to remedy the problem. Because I pressed the issue and needed answers, she said she would do another scraping then after some thought also performed a repeat PAP.
What if I hadn’t pressed the issue? Is everybody more concerned about how they look than doing the right thing? Though she has tried to amend the issues, avoiding the fact that a culture was never sent was a very big deal, that of figuring out why a rather large amount of a pus-like material with dried blood was coming out of my body.
As I await results of the second PAP, I try not to worry too much, which doesn’t work, or why else have I worked through several quarts of ice cream. Because it’s low fat, can I so easily persuade myself I’m not using one problem to make another, clogging up my arteries and adding pounds?
So it’s gone, demolished. I ride my bike along the canal, so much more beautiful than it sounds; water sparkling, low humidity, breeze ruffling the leaves on the tree lined path all along the six mile ride. I have to forgive myself, again! This 3 day ice cream binge takes effort to forgive. But while riding I use the same techniques as in the past. It’s done, over, ingested. Beating myself up won’t help, in fact, it might be what I’m looking for; ways to dislike even hate. So don’t. What if today were to be my last? Would I want to spend it with self-hate for a life-long struggle? No. I almost smile. I’d want to remember how good it tasted. And keep any more of that crap out of my house. At least until next summer.
So coming home with a sheen of sweat, I feel better. I have worries, but I have joys, the simple ones of flowers blooming, hummingbirds swooping in, the birds at the feeder, and the first butterfly. Once I work through one hindrance, challenge or problem, another sets itself before me. Such is life…