I am prepping for an appointment with Dr. House tomorrow at Hopkins. His speciality is "mystery diagnosis." By prepping, I mean pouring merlot and biting fingernails. He has all of my records, so I just need to show up with my fine self. A welcome change from slugging about forty pounds of brain scans. No joke, those films are heavy!
To "get in", Dr. House reviewed all of my records and tests to make sure I was "an interesting case" before approving me as a patient. This appointment has been scheduled for six months, his first available. I feel very special.
His real name has fourteen vowels and twenty-seven consonants, but I am just going to call him Dr. House, so I don't say it wrong. I am sure he won't mind.
I always get a little nervous going to see a new specialist. I worry what they might throw my way. For example, I was sent to the neurologist with probable suspicion of Multiple Sclerosis. My symptoms fit, the demographic fit. I was worried about that; MS is an unpleasant disease. Then the neurologist was all, "I see your MS and raise you ... ONE brain tumor." That was a surprise I did not see coming.
I thought this spring that my eyes were a problem and I needed glasses. Nope, nope. No glasses, you are likely having mini-strokes. Of course I am.
So I half-expect him to tell me tomorrow that I no longer have a functioning cardiovascular system since all of my plasma and blood cells have actually been replaced with Folgers' crystals. I have had stranger things said to me in medical offices.
To answer the why a new doctor question preemptively: I would like someone to be able to tell me why the bone-crushing exhaustion, visual problems, and cognitive/memory decline. Give it a name and tell me what to do about it.
And then I would like him to write me a prescription for a month or two of medically-sanctioned rest in Fiji and maybe, if he is feeling generous, for a bottle of those little yellow pills I so enjoy. Man, are they tasty!
Wish me luck.
To "get in", Dr. House reviewed all of my records and tests to make sure I was "an interesting case" before approving me as a patient. This appointment has been scheduled for six months, his first available. I feel very special.
His real name has fourteen vowels and twenty-seven consonants, but I am just going to call him Dr. House, so I don't say it wrong. I am sure he won't mind.
I always get a little nervous going to see a new specialist. I worry what they might throw my way. For example, I was sent to the neurologist with probable suspicion of Multiple Sclerosis. My symptoms fit, the demographic fit. I was worried about that; MS is an unpleasant disease. Then the neurologist was all, "I see your MS and raise you ... ONE brain tumor." That was a surprise I did not see coming.
I thought this spring that my eyes were a problem and I needed glasses. Nope, nope. No glasses, you are likely having mini-strokes. Of course I am.
So I half-expect him to tell me tomorrow that I no longer have a functioning cardiovascular system since all of my plasma and blood cells have actually been replaced with Folgers' crystals. I have had stranger things said to me in medical offices.
To answer the why a new doctor question preemptively: I would like someone to be able to tell me why the bone-crushing exhaustion, visual problems, and cognitive/memory decline. Give it a name and tell me what to do about it.
And then I would like him to write me a prescription for a month or two of medically-sanctioned rest in Fiji and maybe, if he is feeling generous, for a bottle of those little yellow pills I so enjoy. Man, are they tasty!
Wish me luck.
No comments:
Post a Comment