It's always a bad idea to type tired. You might as well be drunk, and we all know that doesn't work well... I just have many things I want to say, and I don't want to neglect the blog, so bear with me if I'm less than smooth.
Went to see the Dr the other day. Nurse Practitioner actually.
I was a little scared to have this appointment, because I'm always afraid that they're going to tell me I'm a hypochondriac and I should get over myself. I told myself that I would just present the facts, and any reasonable medical professional would look into them. So I told her that my side still hurts, even though I had the gall bladder out Two Years Ago. She agreed that I have waited a reasonable length of time for the pain to go away, and said that it was probably just scar tissue from the surgery. We'll do imaging and go from there. I said, assuming it is scar tissue, aren't we done? I mean, if it isn't going to damage me, why bother to treat it? And she said that pain is not ok, and that we will try to get rid of it.
I'm just so pleased. And not just because she doesn't think I'm nuts. Also because secretly I was worried I had some dread disease. I knew it wasn't likely, but I feel like I have more to lose now than ever before. I can't stand the thought of not being able there for my peeps. I'd lay there at night with this slowly worsening twinge in my side thinking "That which ye fear will come upon you", then telling myself not to fear the twinge. It seems so silly now, like when you were little and scared of a noise, then you turned the light on and returned to the land of the rational.
It's late.
Gotta pump.
Don't let the bedbugs bite,
ephelba
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I love Nurse Practioners. I think I like them better than doctors. More attentive, more personable. Ours laughs at all my husband's jokes, the dear.
I love that return to rational feeling. I struggle to find it almost every day, unfortunately. You describe it very well. It's going to stick in my head.
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