I’ll Take Door Number Three, Please
There are basically only two things you can get when you visit the doctor’s office.
2) More doctor’s appointments.
My visit with the doctor this morning was short and sweet and, predictably, not very informative. I expected as much so I wasn’t terribly disappointed. After the usual barrage of questions which continue to enforce my belief that the section on diabetes must have been ripped out of all nursing textbooks, my doctor arrived and we went over my risk factors (family and diabetes) and symptoms (I actually shivered because of the air conditioning). When she reached around to the front of my throat to feel my glands, I jumped a bit.
“Hm, your thyroid gland does seem to be a bit enlarged,” she said. She felt them again.
“Stop! Stop stop stop,” I pleaded. It wasn’t so much painful as just uncomfortable, almost like how tickling doesn’t really hurt but it doesn’t really feel good either even though you’re laughing. It’s just an odd sensation you’d rather not endure.
I was given a script for lab work to be done (appointment #1) and an ultrasound at a radiologist (appointment #2). Then I went downstairs and made an appointment to see the doctor again in two weeks (appointment #3).
All that on top of another script that says (and I quote): “Please evaluate and treat patient with rx of DM Type I with insulin pump.” So there, Ms. Receptionist, now I have it in writing!
Coming tomorrow: Bernard, Mel and I go to Harvard.