More health issues.
It’s no surprise that I don’t like medical stuff. I’ve had a lifetime of dealing with it. I have so many chronic conditions that I even forget about some of them, when trying to list on medical records. I am very lucky: the fact that I can forget about them, in between times of flareups, means that they don’t affect my life all that much.
There is the arthritis. There has been the PCOS. The endometriosis. The mental health issues. The (past) cancer. The skin stuff, the connective tissue stuff, the Reynauld’s Syndrome stuff. The iritis. Probably other things because I forget all the time and am only reminded when doctors aks me “Didn’t you come in here on such-and-such a date for such-and-such?”. Oh yes, that’s right, I did. (And am instantly reminded, kidney stones and mesenteric adenitis, and probably others).
I honestly do forget.
One of the huge pluses about having so many health issues is that I tend to think that I am invincible. Sure, I have (and have had, and will have again) a LOT of health related negativities in my life. If I was a dog, I would seriously consider euthunasia but maybe the fact that I enjoy my life so much in spite of the problems is a great argument for NOT doing that.
Yes, I hurt a lot at times. I endure many uncomfortable situations. But it never turns out to be lifethreatening. The older I get, the more relaxed I am about my health. I go very seldom to the doctor, assuming that if I do have nasty complaints, they will either resolve themselves on their own (being chronic) or they won’t. I sort of feel that I can outlast them and this has been proved to be a very effective, cheap form of health insurance.
That’s why I am so irritated about my latest health issue. Disregard the fact that if any of my symptoms appeared in my friends, I would be kicking their asses until they went medico mountaineering. I am special; there is nothing wrong with ME!
It’s not so much that I won’t take advantage of medical help if I need it. It’s more about me resenting having to pay for tests that will ultimately prove I am fine. I should be ashamed to admit why I am eventually biting the bullet and going to investigate symptoms that could be potentially very serious.
I am not really ashamed because it is typical me. And probably I would shut up more about this if I hadn’t had a bottle of lovely,lovely Shiraz tonight as I am cleaning. (So many goodbye presents from my work colleagues around the Valley – I honestly didn’t know that I was thought of so highly).
I have been having problems with one of my breasts. It has gone on for months now and I have been doing my ostrich-head-in-the-sand approach, assuming that I can wait it it out. Well, I probably still could have but I have grown impatient of being aware and having to alter day to day stuff around it. And, most important of all, that’s 50% less of chest area erogenous zones that I have done without for a while now and I am fed up.
Doctor appointment next week. I have been told that I need to try a round of antibiotics and that I must be prepared to follow up with a specialist if things don’t resolve. I am not stupid; I can hear within the sentences and I knew that this was on the cards if I went the doctor way. I don’t like the forward planning nuances, that is all. They sound expensive and time consuming and it will all turn out it be okay and unnecesary because it always does.
But how can I preach doctor and health to my loved ones if they see me not practicing what I preach?