So, off to the doctor we go. We being me and my azz that was draggin’ after a wack night of sleep, non-sleep, and other insomniac-al issues. I think my energy-save mode is broken. At any given moment (especially when I should be sleeping) my mind is like a clothes dryer tumbling a full load of thoughts. That’s pretty much where I was that night. I even emailed myself all these notes on stuff I heard/saw/thought that I thought would be interesting to blog about. Yea…we’ll see how that goes.
So, off to the doctor. I got there and Fiance wasn’t there yet. Again. As in, this was way too much like the last doctor’s appointment when he showed up late. Stuff happens, I get it. But being on time is a mantra for both of us. I live an hour in traffic from my doctor. He works on the same end of town (sorta: it’s a straight shot down 75) so why was he not there ahead of me. Especially when I’d talked to him 6 minutes after leaving my house and he was planning to leave his desk in the next 10. He is a GOOD man, the best I’ve ever known in my life. I’m no hoe or nothing, but that’s saying a lot. And because he’s a good man, I’m disappointed whenever he doesn’t do like I expect. Not that I expect perfection, but a whole lotta “oops, I dropped the ball” is not supposed to happen on his watch. So, yea, I’m a little irritated he’s not there, but then, I’m always irritated, remember. Tired=Crabby. I handled patient check-in, my lovely $10 co-pay (I love you United Health Care!! Booooo on Blue Cross Blue Shield). Still no Fiance. No problem. I call, he’s in traffic, no big deal. I check email, play on the web, try to read one of my two currents (cuz sometime I’m reading more than one book at a time. this may explain why my thoughts get so scattered), and after a few minutes, I’m called back.
You caught the part where I was still alone, right? So I’m weighed [don’t let me get started on the non-paying attention heifer who wrote my 170-pound weight down as 195. You know I was piiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssed when me and Dr. K discovered that. I’m trying to lose this ish, not add 25 just by walking through the door and being vital signed by your incompetent azz] and escorted to the exam room. I wait for Fiance. I call Fiance. He’s stuck in traffic. Oh wait, that’s what happened last time. Thanks for planning this out better so you didn’t have this issue again. Whatev, I’ll see you soon. Oh wait, you’re calling me back. You’re so stuck in traffic, you’re only 10 miles away but that 10 miles translates into 30 minutes at least because it’s that little thing that takes place in various cities around the world from the hours of 5 and 9 am and later that afternoon and evening too. You know, RUSH mother-freaking HOUR. [Sidebar: Obviously, I try not to cuss. Does it count if I say the words in my head (sometimes) but work really hard (sometimes) at not saying them out loud? /End Sidebar]
I don’t need to drag y’all through the rest. I was pissed. And disappointed. Because the moral support, yea, that day, I really needed it. He ended up staying on the phone through the whole appointment, we got off when I let them rob me of more of my life-juice (greedy vampires calling yourselves medical assistants. Phlebotomist is just a fancy word for “I like to stick people with needles.”) and we talked the rest of my drive to work. Which was pretty much in the opposite direction. So we had a lot of time to chat. And think. And discuss. And let stuff marinate.
We worked it off. I let him off…since that was the moment where I checked myself and remembered he’s a man, he makes mistakes, and he felt bad (seriously bad, as in I’m not being a man and taking care of the woman God gave me bad).
Now that we’ve dispensed with that bit of drama. The doctor basically confirmed that I have a thyroid issue. The bloodwork, my symptoms, her own observations, etc. worked as a semi-confirmation. I got my visual/scientific confirmation this morning.
(Stay with me. I’m going somewhere with this next little bit.) Did you know the thyroid is shaped somewhat like a butterfly? The isthmus is in the center, kind of like the butterfly’s body and the left and right lobe are like its wings. Instead of a small, dainty butterfly (you know, like the delicate flower I mother-freaking am) my ish is like a friggin MONNNNNNNNNNNSTERRRRRRRRR thyroid. Picture a huge, gigantor beast butterfly. Yea, that’s my thyroid. You can’t tell from the outside (thank GOD!!!) but inside my throat that gland is running things.
It’s enlarged, I have “dozens, maybe thousands” of micro-nodules according to the radiologist (imagine the gray tissue on the scan screen populated with red and blue dots EVERYWHERE) and apparently the condition is termed “thyroiditis.” [Why I gotta always have the made-up sounding stuff? First gastrititis and duodenitis, now this mess.] I looked it up on WebMD, because I’ma be nothing if not educated about what’s going down inside me, and got myself confused. I found thyroiditis but the causes are similar to hypothyroidism and hyperthyroidism. Basically, I need to stay up off of WebMD and just ask my endocrinologist all these questions.
Can I just say I hate being 30 and now having an endocrinologist on top of a gastric doctor?? Don’t forget the asthma. And the ecxema. And the rhinitis. Dude, can I just be healthy. Eeeeeesh.
I have now dialogued all the current crap relating to my health. Because you know, that’s in high demand.