Thursday, September 26, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
number 81
i gathered the courage to go to the doctor again this week. I usually go through a period of time every six months where i just can't bring myself to do it - i just can't go on that hypochondriac trial every other week anymore, it's just too degrading. Yet, when a doctor is so successful it takes nine months to get an appt, you at least schedule one.
As the months went by, I would sometimes think about it but seeing as I have been on the list for an appt for a doctor in Utah since 2010, yes, three years ago - I didn't put much stock in it. The week before the appt I even considered canceling it, would it be too expensive, a waste of my time, but most of all, would I be able to handle yet another one tell me this was all in my head. Seeing as I had been feeing especially sick these last few months, I figured what did I have to lose.
I showed up with my trusty binder of medical records and sat in the office, a very nice office I might add. One after one I noticed autistic children coming and going and from behind the front desk and I could hear a strong texan man tell them he loved them. Odd, I thought - that is not something you hear a doctor say everyday. I soon saw the man with the voice, a jolly late fifties crew cut man in scrubs with Dr Stewart embroidered on the chest - yep, that's the guy who supposed to work miracles.
I was called back and hooked up to all of these machines that tested my inner ears when certain sounds were played. Very interesting, I thought - I guess they were measuring the amount they contract when sounds are played, a sign for nervous system function. Next was standing on platforms that measured my balance, with eyes closed, without eyes closed and finally again with a big piece of foam under me. Hmmm...was I at another quack's? I was showed into an exam room and this big burly man came right in. His first words were 'what are you doing in my office when you look so healthy?' I almost fled the scene right there. Then he got a big smile on his face and said, "I bet you've heard that before."
The next 90 minutes were kind of a blur. Yes, he spent an hour and half with me, right in my face, drawing diagrams, explaining this and that and I may not have understood exactly the chemistry of it all I understood one thing. He.got.it. He understood completely. He would ask me the most random questions about my health and he would nail it every time. Things that I had never thought were related to the fatigue he called out. And after we talked about how all of this started while I was a missionary in Africa, he then witnessed to me.
Yes, you read that right. In the south, to get 'a witness' from someone is basically to hear a testimony. And my, my he gave one. Probably not pc, probably could get him in trouble, but hey, it's his show. He started out as an ENT and after growing tired of performing sinus surgery after sinus surgery and not really seeing much difference in his patients' health, he moved on to neurosurgery. He was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country for many years and again, after 'cutting people up and shoving pills down their throat', he again grew weary of his chronically ill patients inability to improve. He said every night he would wake up about 3 am and go into his office to think, and it wasn't long before things just started coming to him and he started to take notes. He claims he was taught by the Lord. I can believe that.
Years later, he is one of the top autism specialists in the World and also treats a lot of MS, lupus, alzheimers and autoimmune patients. It's all inflammation of the nervous system, he claims, the brain is running on no fuel. He looked at all of my records and couldn't believe some of the things previous doctors had missed. Things that had shown up but docs had discredited with, 'that must be a fluke, don't worry about it,' or 'that's only marginally high'. He then said he would fix me within a year. This, I've heard several times and he could read my skepticism and added, 'you the be pessimist, I'll be the optimist.' He gave me a big hug and promised to call
What's next? 10 tubes of blood drawn on the way home. I like that he is so proactive with this, 'you've been sick long enough, lets fight this' and daily injections and a few other supplements, steroids, and vitamins. His theory: help the body get in a state to where it can heal itself. He said he will call me next week with the lab results, 'to tell me he was right about just how sick I am' and we'll go from there.
I am skeptical, but there is something telling me to be hopeful. In the last year or so I had pretty much resolved the fact that I would be sick the rest of my life, and I would still have a fulfilling life, and it would be okay. Now, do I have to though?
As the months went by, I would sometimes think about it but seeing as I have been on the list for an appt for a doctor in Utah since 2010, yes, three years ago - I didn't put much stock in it. The week before the appt I even considered canceling it, would it be too expensive, a waste of my time, but most of all, would I be able to handle yet another one tell me this was all in my head. Seeing as I had been feeing especially sick these last few months, I figured what did I have to lose.
I showed up with my trusty binder of medical records and sat in the office, a very nice office I might add. One after one I noticed autistic children coming and going and from behind the front desk and I could hear a strong texan man tell them he loved them. Odd, I thought - that is not something you hear a doctor say everyday. I soon saw the man with the voice, a jolly late fifties crew cut man in scrubs with Dr Stewart embroidered on the chest - yep, that's the guy who supposed to work miracles.
I was called back and hooked up to all of these machines that tested my inner ears when certain sounds were played. Very interesting, I thought - I guess they were measuring the amount they contract when sounds are played, a sign for nervous system function. Next was standing on platforms that measured my balance, with eyes closed, without eyes closed and finally again with a big piece of foam under me. Hmmm...was I at another quack's? I was showed into an exam room and this big burly man came right in. His first words were 'what are you doing in my office when you look so healthy?' I almost fled the scene right there. Then he got a big smile on his face and said, "I bet you've heard that before."
The next 90 minutes were kind of a blur. Yes, he spent an hour and half with me, right in my face, drawing diagrams, explaining this and that and I may not have understood exactly the chemistry of it all I understood one thing. He.got.it. He understood completely. He would ask me the most random questions about my health and he would nail it every time. Things that I had never thought were related to the fatigue he called out. And after we talked about how all of this started while I was a missionary in Africa, he then witnessed to me.
Yes, you read that right. In the south, to get 'a witness' from someone is basically to hear a testimony. And my, my he gave one. Probably not pc, probably could get him in trouble, but hey, it's his show. He started out as an ENT and after growing tired of performing sinus surgery after sinus surgery and not really seeing much difference in his patients' health, he moved on to neurosurgery. He was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country for many years and again, after 'cutting people up and shoving pills down their throat', he again grew weary of his chronically ill patients inability to improve. He said every night he would wake up about 3 am and go into his office to think, and it wasn't long before things just started coming to him and he started to take notes. He claims he was taught by the Lord. I can believe that.
Years later, he is one of the top autism specialists in the World and also treats a lot of MS, lupus, alzheimers and autoimmune patients. It's all inflammation of the nervous system, he claims, the brain is running on no fuel. He looked at all of my records and couldn't believe some of the things previous doctors had missed. Things that had shown up but docs had discredited with, 'that must be a fluke, don't worry about it,' or 'that's only marginally high'. He then said he would fix me within a year. This, I've heard several times and he could read my skepticism and added, 'you the be pessimist, I'll be the optimist.' He gave me a big hug and promised to call
What's next? 10 tubes of blood drawn on the way home. I like that he is so proactive with this, 'you've been sick long enough, lets fight this' and daily injections and a few other supplements, steroids, and vitamins. His theory: help the body get in a state to where it can heal itself. He said he will call me next week with the lab results, 'to tell me he was right about just how sick I am' and we'll go from there.
I am skeptical, but there is something telling me to be hopeful. In the last year or so I had pretty much resolved the fact that I would be sick the rest of my life, and I would still have a fulfilling life, and it would be okay. Now, do I have to though?
back home
I didn't say I would stop writing all together, I just needed to be relieved of the guilt of not writing every day. The words will come when they come, and when they do, I will write.
Tonight I am feeling such peace and contentment. I am back in my beloved Austin, after a summer of extreme stress, travel and work; I really should have never left this place. Everything was unsettling, unfamiliar, somehow just not right. I traveled to some beautiful places, and I worked really hard and really long hours, but it all felt off, completely wrong.
The whole working in a cubicle staring at numbers thing, another failed experiment. I got sicker by the hour and in turn, got lower and lower. It was another experiment, a failed one, in attempting to live life with this illness while carrying on a 9-5 job. doesn't work.
I drove into town last Saturday and immediately could breathe again. Everything just felt right. Sure, there are things about life I wish I could change, but where I am at when I am in my beloved new home, is pretty wonderful.
Tonight I am feeling such peace and contentment. I am back in my beloved Austin, after a summer of extreme stress, travel and work; I really should have never left this place. Everything was unsettling, unfamiliar, somehow just not right. I traveled to some beautiful places, and I worked really hard and really long hours, but it all felt off, completely wrong.
The whole working in a cubicle staring at numbers thing, another failed experiment. I got sicker by the hour and in turn, got lower and lower. It was another experiment, a failed one, in attempting to live life with this illness while carrying on a 9-5 job. doesn't work.
I drove into town last Saturday and immediately could breathe again. Everything just felt right. Sure, there are things about life I wish I could change, but where I am at when I am in my beloved new home, is pretty wonderful.
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