My pre-op appointment was pretty traumatic.
The doctor didn't even check for allergies. What the hell is that?
He also didn't know what I was coming in for, and was really nasty when I did not know what exactly was being done and every little detail about it. (In my defense, I asked, and was told that I would be informed AT THE PRE-OP)
my eye is still very bloody and gross-looking. It feels all scratchy and I am very stressed out. The appointments on Thursday and Friday were both just very, very bad.
I will elaborate more later. I don't have the strength at the moment, and I have things to do.
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Hey honey--
ReplyDeleteI just wanted to tell you that I have some idea of what you're going through on an emotional level. I was a mystery patient for almost 25 years. It all started when I got married and moved out to Wisconsin. In hindsight, some of this was due to depression and my PTSD being jacked up to high because of the marriage from hell, but by no means all of it. Unfortunately, pretty much everything going on was more or less passed off as "somaticization," i.e., hysteria.
(A good side effect was that I was in grad school by then and got interested in the history of science aspects of hysteria and other women's medicine issues, which led to the paper that helped me to transfer out here.)
Anyway: I had a couple/three things going on in the background--endometriosis and IBS were the major things. My left ovary developed delusions of grapefruithood and had to be removed with a mucinous cystadenoma. The fucking doctor patted me on the head and said it wasn't dangerous. It had a 25% chance of becoming malignant. He couldn't find the right ovary. Fuckhead.
But the star of the show was the persistent episodic abdominal pain and the body aches. The abdominal pain was diagnosed as everything from ovarian cysts to adhesions from all the endo surgery, to just Bad Girly Part stuff. Yup. Meanwhile, my X-rays were showing bone loss that got passed off as osteoarthritis due to me being overweight. (My hand bone loss was due to not using my hands enough. I told her that I typed, knit, drew, and did other crafts constantly, but la la la her fingers were in her ears.)
I hurt all over all the time. Left WI with a kitchen-sink diagnosis of every inflammatory disease in the book--all of which gave negative blood work, but I hurt all over. All the time.
Then in '93 or so I got what I thought was flu. HORRIBLE side pain, which weirdly was a symptom of the flu going around at the time; my husband got it, so that's what we assumed. Puking. Fever. Pain incredible. By the grace of God my shrink pulled a string & got me into the Harvard infirmary. My WBC hit over 25, and then they got the surgeon. This finally heaven-sent genius said, "I think you have a kidney stone." You know what pyelo is like. Beth Israel over Xmas week.
Then we had fun with lithotripsies, and I kept hurting. I was finally damn near crippled and using a cane.
Then heaven-sent genius #2 FINALLY diagnosed me with what it really was--hyperparathyroiditis. Adult rickets. Kidney stones. Pain from Ca-related muscle spasms and the REAL reason my bones were *dissolving*. After a year of fucking VITAMIN D I am down to a naproxen once or twice a day after being on maintenance oxycontin for two years.
The moral of the story is that a) they finally finally found an answer and b) I want to go after every fucking idiot who not only misdiagnosed a common nutritional deficiency--but treated me like a crazy person to boot.
IT SUCKED. I know how frustrating this is; I really do, and my heart goes out to you. Please hang in there; you're worth it, and you are the most important one of all of us in your corner. <3
--Idony