I hate going in to the doctor's office. It's generally a huge waste of my time. Spend at least fifteen minutes getting there, at least a half hour waiting in the waiting room and then the office visit room, another fifteen to check out and another fifteen or so to get back to work or back to the house. Plus, of course, fifteen minutes with the doctor - generally the shortest part of the visit.
So, I don't go to the doctor unless I really really think I need to go. I have better things to do with my time than waste at least two hours just to be told to take a pill or a test and we'll figure it out later.
On top of just not really liking doctor visits (visit? like it's a pleasant little chat? Come on!), I also have a very high tolerance for pain and discomfort. Now, I'll whine about a papercut on my finger just like most folks. But let me give you an example or two:
I am four. I have been swimming recently and got a little panicked when my swim teacher went inside the clubhouse to take a phonecall after telling me to jump in the deep end. This was not some missed social cue, she really did think I would be able to swim the pool without her. I jump in, flounder, she finally sees from the window and comes in after me. By this time, I've mostly gotten myself to the side of the pool anyway.
A few days later, we're visiting relatives and I begin, oddly enough, to complain about an earache. But, we're in a different town and it's a hassle to take a kid to a new pediatrician when you're visiting relatives.
"How bad does it hurt," Mom asks.
At four, I don't really understand this question. At four, for me, things either hurt or they don't hurt. I've got no way to decide the various levels of pain. So, I shrug.
My mom figures if a kid is not screaming about the pain, then it's not bad enough to go to the doctor. After all, a normal kid screams at a simple skinned knee, so anything worse than that would involve screaming, right?
A few days later, I am still complaining that my ear hurts. We are shopping in a mall and suddenly my ear feels different and doesn't really hurt so much anymore. Obviously my mom was right, and I didn't need the doctor.
A few minutes after this feeling of relief, Mom looks over at me and makes the disapproving face.
"What did you get into?"
"Nothing."
"Then what's that all over the side of your face?"
My eardrum had burst.
I didn't know. I was unaware of the increasing pain, that to hear others say, is evidently pretty intense. I thought it was normal, just something to deal with and move on.
One more, shorter example. I was eleven and I was hanging from one of the soccer goals at school. I was maybe an inch or two off the ground, just hanging there, like three or four other little monkeys. Some kid comes up behind me and shoves me in the small of the back and I lose my grip and fall.
No big deal. I land on my butt and put my arms out to brace myself on either side. I'm irritated with the kid who pushed me, but really, what's the harm? I wasn't high enough off the ground to do any real damage. My left wrist bothers me, though.
I assume that I've sprained my wrist and I don't want to listen to another lecture about being careful, so I don't tell mom that I've sprained my wrist because another kid pushed me off the soccer goal. I just try to be careful with my wrist and it will be better in a few days. But it's not. It still hurts in a few days. I still hesitate ... it's not a big pain ... is it?
I finally get around to telling Mom. She complains about having to take me to the doctor for nothing, that I am a hypochondriac. They x-ray the arm and mom looks carefully at the developed picture.
"Nothing," she says, disgusted. "This is a wasted trip and a waste of time."
The doctor looks at the film in his office. "Yep, it's broken, all right."
Mom is shocked and appalled, she was so sure I was just being a whiner. Now I'm treated to a lecture on letting her know when things hurt me.
So when I say that I ache all the time and my joints feel arthritic and painful, I don't believe that it's nothing. I don't even believe that it's just the way things are when you hit middle age (at 36).
But, the thyroid came back clean and the lupus tests came back all right. The only other things I've found that fit my symptoms are chronic fatigue (Epstein-Barr) and fibromyalgia.
And what frustrates me, no, I'll be perfectly honest, what seriously pisses me off, is that while my doctor took it seriously, this stupid rheumatologist poo-pooed the whole thing as "middle age." He dismissed it, quite obviously, as me whining about nothing.
The last time that happened to me, the last time a doctor thought I was just a whiner, he ignored my freaking CANCER symptoms for TWO YEARS!
So I don't have much confidence in this rheumatologist at all.
My question to the public at large is this: when do YOU go to the doctor? When, and how, do you decide that enough is enough and it's time to go get fixed?
And the corollary: What do you do when they don't take you seriously?
Posted by Red Monkey at August 8, 2005 10:57 AM |
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I'm an uninsured diabetic. I have to see my doctor and my CDE every three months in order to get strips on the cheap. Being uninsured and living in a small town (pop. app. 1100) left me with very few options when my (former) doctor didn't take me seriously. I have a very crooked pinky because of that very thing. It didn't help much with the broken finger, but I learned to research, research, research, and to have someone else (either my mother or his nurse) speak to him for me.
August 8, 2005 9:29 PMdilated said:
I've gone to the doctor once, outside of football physicals, when I'd get serious pains in my stomach. Went to the emergency room for it one night because they got so bad. Turns out it was just gas, but.. yeah, it hurt.
Andy T. said:
You gals are built to have children. It is my belief that all of you females are infinitely tougher than men.
I go to the doctor when my wife orders me to.
August 9, 2005 5:53 AMannette said:
Hey, due to my line of work, I am usually in some sort of physical discomfort. I go to the doctor when I absolutely cannot do or move something. If my life or work becomes inhibited, I go.
August 13, 2005 6:59 PMthordora said:
Being slightly overweight after two kids in two years, I find my doctor disregards everything as "you're fat" (actually, OBESE is what the skinny prick wrote on my chart)
Yes. I am overweight. Hell, who wouldn't be. Eating is the last thing I have the energy to devote to. But to sit there and tell me that everything boils down to my weight...
I just don't go. I know for a fact that I have an infection, but it's not worth the effort. It will take 2 weeks to get in anyway, and instead of help, I'll get your mother...
August 14, 2005 9:31 AM
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