Hot Mess Express

For those of you following along with my medical drama, I figured I’d let you know that I’m headed into see a new Rheumatologist at Emory today. This is a woman, thank God, and from what I can gather from her health grades story she’s an immigrant. Whew. I already feel better. I’m so over old, white men doctors telling me to just “suffer” so they can run more tests.

When I saw my doctor last week she was appalled by my treatment at Dr. Dickhead’s office and apologized on his behalf, which I asked her not to. He’s a grown-ass man. Meanwhile I’m still waiting on an apology from his office or at least a letter of resolution from Emory. If you have no idea what I’m talking abbot you can get up to speed here.

My doctor wasn’t happy with the test results from Dr. Dickhead, go figure, so when I asked what I should do she said to go to another Rheumatologist and a dermatologist, of which she wrote me a referral. I asked her if this was all stress related and she said that stress can do a number on our bodies, but that no, stress would not shoot her these wacko ANA and white blood cell results that she keeps getting from me. She thinks the underlying condition is certainly exasperated by stress though, which might explain why I’ve had more energy this week than I have in the last 12 weeks.

So there you have it. More doctors. No solid explanations yet. The only diagnosis so far is Raynaud’s which is still a real pain in the ass and the baby asprin isn’t working and it’s starting to get cold here and I’m antsy. Ugh.

Wish me luck.

And remember, there will be times you have to advocate not just for others, but for yourself too. Treat yourself fairly as well.

M.

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