Am I Getting Allergic to Medical Interventions?

I'm starting to re-think my whole belief system and rock solid faith in modern medicine.

Back when I was a child, people didn't visit the doctor as readily as they do now and our family was even less likely than most to turn to professional help for routine illnesses. The main reasons for this were twofold. One, doctor visits were expensive and, two, my parents were very self reliant and resourceful.

Sure when, someone broke a bone (my little brother - twice), we saw the doctor. When my sister suffered a bad burn on her leg, she was taken in for professional help. And I remember going to the dentist for a painfully infected tooth - maybe twice.

When I became an adult, I tended to be the opposite. When my kids were sick, my first thought was to take them to the doctor and my children's pediatrician was always the miracle worker I believed he would be.

I felt the same way where my own health was concerned and until recently, that's worked well for me.

Then in December, I became ill, was under treatment from my doctor, and, as a result, pretty much spent the entire Christmas season sick. I wrote about it here.

After that illness finally passed, I had an MRI on my shoulder because of chronic pain in my arm. It never seemed logical to me that a pain that felt like it was in my arm muscle was because of a rotator cuff problem but the MRI revealed what appeared to be a small tear and it seemed logical to have it repaired. I mentioned that surgery in this post.

Asa result of that surgery, I've struggled all summer with the niggling suspicion that I had unnecessary surgery because 1) my arm still hurt, 2) I'd lost quite a bit of mobility despite physical therapy and ongoing exercise therapy, and 3) I'm constantly troubled by shoulder pain that doesn't seem to be getting any better.

Friday I had a routine check-up with my General Practitioner. We mutually agreed that a flu shot and a pneumonia shot would be in order. Although I questioned the safety of having flu shots too close together since it didn't seem that long since I'd had one, my doctor assured me that now was the time to get one.

About 3 hours later I started to feel ill. By late evening, I was wracked with chills, fever, and extraordinary muscle pain. And that's pretty much how I spent the weekend. I even greeted Monday morning with some lingering low grade fever and accompanying moderate chills and muscle aches.

I won't elaborate too much on my red, swollen, painful arm from just below my shoulder to my elbow. But it was 'over the top'.

So, I'm thinking of RE-thinking my penchant for running to the doc at the drop of a hat. From now on, I think I'll give it just a little more thought.

Uncle!

Well, I've bravely soldiered through the past week of this miserable cold. All the while telling myself that, no matter what seems to be going on in my sinuses, I'm helping my immune system by getting through this without the assistance of antibiotics. No doctor for me.

Really, a lot of people don't know this (of course my kids do), but I'm almost a doctor myself. I may not have had any training besides motherhood, common sense and life experience but I've made a lot of accurate diagnoses and prescribed many methods that have led to cures. So I wasn't irresponsible with my illness. I completely trusted myself.

I should have been suspicious that there was more going on than I was equipped to deal with when my condition continued to deteriorate instead of improve.

Finally Wednesday, I felt like there was something going on in my throat and by Thursday I could barely croak and most people who heard me probably wished I wouldn't try.

Friday, I felt something unpleasant and heavy in my chest and I began to get a little nervous. I knew it was time to cry 'Uncle!' but, frankly, I felt so miserable that I didn't really want to go to the doctor if I could avoid it, so I prescribed myself more water and more sleep.

I went back to bed and when I woke up, I felt much, much worse. Now I knew something had to be done. I was just lucky to get into the doctor on such short notice and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have if I hadn't sounded so terrible croaking out my symptoms on the phone.

They set an appointment and I mustered the energy to go because I had no choice. Yep, good thing I went in. I had a sinus infection (that I had diagnosed correctly) and the beginning of bronchitis (and that's something that people my age should pay attention to).

So the doctor prescribed six little pills to be taken over the next six days. Hopefully they'll work miracles because I'm pretty sure I need one.

As I left the office though, I commented to the receptionist that I had felt so confident that I would fight this off myself and she sympathetically reminded me that as we get older, our bodies have a harder time with these things. Hmmmmm. I honestly hadn't thought of that.

It's funny that no matter how old I get, I see myself from the inside looking out and I forget about my age all the time. Other people see me from the outside looking in and they NEVER forget about my age.

I wonder what I could do about that.

What Next?

As our lives started to return to normal and I was breathing sighs of relief and hopefulness, there was another curve up ahead. In the grand scheme of things it probably isn't such a big deal but I can say, with all candor, it's got my undivided attention.

It's probably poison ivy. About a week ago, I went outside and weeded for a few minutes. My goal was to do a little every day.

Three days ago I had two little itchy bumps on my neck. Mr. Right thought they looked like mosquito bites but Mr. Right was Mr. Wrong this time. The next day the whole side of my neck seemed to be affected. And yesterday it had traveled to the other side of my neck and up into my cheek.

You would not believe the itching. It's so distracting that when I went to the doctor today, I could hardly follow what he was saying because I was desperate to claw at my neck and scratch it until it bled. Last night I couldn't think of anything else. When I tried not to touch it, I felt like I was battling an unseen but living entity who was determined to win some perverse test of wills that would result in my scratching my neck. And guess what. That unseen but living entity won. I couldn't have slept at all had I not given in and the most unfair part of the whole thing is that scratching helped. It was a relief!

Not to gross anybody out but here's what I'm up against:

I couldn't get a really sharp picture and I'm not sure I wanted to because, you know, all those wrinkles and all. But you get the idea, right?

Now that I think about it, this could be the answer to my prayers. It's one of the few things that could distract me from the unceasing family worries and concerns. Yesterday sixteen people were killed about a quarter of a mile from one of my Army guys. He heard and felt the explosion. If this is the answer to my prayers, then I welcome it. Because this will go away. The doctor said so. And I've got a cortisone shot and a prescription cream to help me through it. So this I can bear. This is okay. It's just a bump in the road that might help me get through the other worrisome things going on. For them, I put my faith in God. I'm not in charge and the rash will keep me from trying to be. This rash might be just what I need.

How Long Is Too Long?

I had an appointment with my doctor today at 1:30. I left work plenty early because I knew that this doctor triple books every appointment. I raced home, changed clothes, and hurried off to my appointment. The person who set the appointment told me that 1:30 was the first appointment after lunch so there shouldn't be a long wait. Still I knew about the triple booking and that the first one there for each appointment was the first one seen. Unfortunately I ran into some delays because of road work on the 2 lane highway I had to take. But still, I signed in at 1:29. On time but probably not the first of three people with 1:30 appointments. After not too long, I was called back, weighed, my blood pressure was taken, and I was told that it shouldn't be too long. At 2:45 the doctor finally walked in. By that time, I was cold and disgruntled. I had put my coat back on and was contemplating at what point it was time to find a different doctor. Prior to this one, I had gone to the same doctor for twenty years or so and we completely understood each other. Occasionally I would have to wait for extended periods of time to be seen but not often.

This doctor just didn't seem to care about me as a person or even a patient. I felt like he cared about me as a source of income.

As I sat in that little, chilly waiting room waiting for the doctor to come in, strange and unwelcome thoughts started to wander through my mind. Was I the least important of all the people he was going to see? Was I the most easy going so that he could count on me to not be angry? Or does age come into play? Maybe it was more important to keep young people healthy. After all, at 62 I'm probably on the downhill slide no matter what we do. I knew better, but as I said, unreasonable, unbidden thoughts entered my mind. The appointment was completed. The doctor gave me the time I needed and I was satisfied with the decisions that we made together about my healthcare. But I have to ask. How long really is too long to wait for the doctor?