sallly’s post reminded me of one of my first experiences with the idiot doctors
After my side hurting for about 10 days (this was March of 2004) I decided to get it checked out, but I worked downtown so I could only go to the walk-in clinic back at home. I waited for well over an hour and then saw a doctor and explained what was wrong.
“Could you be pregnant?”
“Are you sure?”
“Ya, I’m pretty sure that’s not a possibility at the moment”
He poked my side a bit, decided that it must be a cyst on the ovary and said in a “okay little girl, I guess I’ll try to pretend to pay attention to you” tone that he would send me for an ultrasound.
So I go 3 days later for an ultrasound — it’s supposed to just be one of the general area on the surface of my abdomin. After assuring them that I was not pregant, they let me check in. After drinking 8 glasses of water, they are running late.
I have to pee.
And I’m sitting in a row of chairs that are all connected and there happens to be someone signing to someone else at the end of the row. Now, I never thought about it before, but sign language really does involve a lot of movement and the row of chairs kept bouncing up and down and I really had to pee.
So I ask the nurse at the desk how much longer they’ll be and she says I can let out half a cup of pee and gives me a cup. Right. Good luck with that. I declined.
The technician finally gets me and does the look for the cyst and finds nothing (of course), but she’s concerned so she does a full ultrasound and says: “oh, that’s it right there” and looks concerned as she peers into the screen. This also happens to coincide with the intense amount of pain that I feel when she hits whatever she sees on the screen.
She tells me to come back to the ER if it gets worse.
I come back the next night and wait for 3 hours.
“Are you pregnant?”
“Are you sure dear?”
“But are you absolutely sure?”
Okay — I understand that it’s their job to ask — but COME ON, I’m bloody well sure!
So I get to see a student doctor.
She asks the routine questions and pokes my side. I assure her that I’m not pregnant — and she goes to consult with another doctor.
He comes in and asks
“any possibility that you could be pregnant?”
They leave and I get blood taken.
What feels like years later they return and the first thing the doctor says is:
“Well, according to the blood tests, you’re not pregnant”
In my head I think “Really? Wow — I could have told you that. Oh wait! I did!”
He then tells me that I’m fine and to go home and take an asprin.
So begins the quest for the cure of the dyingness. More installments definitely to come.