I have to remind myself that doctors are human. It’s easy to be angry when they say, “Well, you are having these symptoms, and they’re not good, but I don’t know why.“, especially when the symptoms are scary as hell and make you feel like death warmed over. I feel that medical dramas might be to blame, giving us bad expectations–especially shows like House M.D., where a team of doctors work tirelessly until they diagnose their patient. You don’t set out to have your expectations dictated by a TV show, but it happens anyway, on a subconscious level. In the real world doctors shrug, maybe throw some meds at you, run some general labs, and then see the next patient.
So we’ve spent several hundred dollars for twenty-five minutes of time and still have no idea why this is happening. Excellent. Thank you.
I sound bitter. I know doctors go through several years of schooling to learn their craft, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a huge cash grab. I would feel better if there was some trying going on. That’s why I’m bitter. I still feel like crap. I could have gone to see my auto-immune doctor, received the same answer, and saved money. [At least I could have complained about this horrible flare that seems less like a flare-up as the weeks pass and more like a new normal, which is bullshit.]
I am sick of nearly passing out when I stand for longer than ten minutes. I am sick of feeling physically exhausted after being awake for six hours. I am sick of trying to do anything through this brain fog. My blood pressure is still ridiculously low. Why won’t it go up? No one can tell me, but doctors keep saying to eat more salt. Why is the answer always more salt? I find myself trying to self-diagnose through Google, and I know that’s foolish, but doing nothing feels like giving up. I figure at best I can find an answer–at worst I can find a list of things to look for that I can bring to a doctor. [Which they hate, by the way. I love that “Fuck you, I went to medical school, you fuck” look they get when I tell them I was looking up stuff online and my symptoms match the following conditions, so if maybe they could consider those when they are looking me over that would be great.]
In short, if you ever want to feel like a horrible waste of time, get a condition no one can diagnose. [I don’t recommend this though.]
On to something different! I’m trying to force myself to do things–life things–despite my body’s desire to do nothing but decompose slowly on the sofa. Dishes, eating food, laundry, video games, writing… Yes, I have to force myself to play video games, because that’s what my life is now–I am too exhausted to even do stuff I used to do to avoid responsibility. But writing is in there, even if what I’m putting down is absolute garbage. I’m hoping that future me can turn the word vomit into something usable when I do first edits. [I have a lot of faith in future me. Somehow she’s not dead, and full of energy and/or inspiration. Somehow.]
Also, I’m going on a trip soon, to visit family. It was rather impromptu, and I’m a little nervous about traveling while feeling like this, but I’m hoping that I can try to unwind a little. Between the health problems, stress, and my daughter fully embracing the Threenage Life, I need some kind of break. Or I’ll break.