It is here again. The week that comes every 3-6 months filled with check up and follow up appointments. I wasn’t exactly dreading the week ahead, but after my first appointment maybe I should be. First stop this week, the gynecologist. YAY!
What a wonderful way to start a Monday morning. At least this appointment wasn’t one where I was going to lose every ounce of pride I’ve gained since the last time I came here. Well not at least because someone would be examining all my goodies today. Last month, my doctor changed my Zoloft to prozac. I am a creature of habit, so I despise change. I was desperately looking forward to this appointment to get back on Zoloft. Prozac was not the most delightful change for me.
My bubbly doctor enters the room with his normal perky greeting. Today he is accompanied by two beautiful women, both intimidatingly beautiful. Glad I’m keeping on my clothes today. The nurse practioner and physician’s assistant’s beauty would make any average woman’s self esteem drop 4 points just being in the same room with them, not to mention how comforting it would be to have these two checking out all the imperfections with my goods.
Our conversation begins with me telling my doctor I think my lovely Interstitial Cystitis is bothering me again. To make sure I don’t leave with any integrity, he proceeds to prescribe me with the most popular bladder control pill among t.v. commercials today. Hopefully, they understand what IC actually is and realize I’m not peeing my pants on a daily basis. Yet. Next, we talk about the happy pills. After I tell him the new one makes me cry more than normal, I politely tell him I would like to be on Zoloft again. We tried the change. I did not think it was pleasant. Moving on. Now I begin to tell him recently I have been having migraines and trouble with my Crohn’s disease.
As he is telling me the changes we are going to make on my daily medicines, he begins to explain to me why I haven’t been feeling so good lately. I had told him I worked too much over the holidays and didn’t get enough rest. Complete truth. Apparently, this doctor is so comfortable with me he feels he can say exactly what he is thinking. I don’t know if that is flattering or not. He proceeds to tell me I am like an old car. I run well at slow speeds, but when I begin to run too fast, I get ‘rickety and shaky’. I should stay within the safe speeds. Wow. Precious.
NOTE TO SELF: Never enter a gynecologist appointment thinking it won’t be THAT bad.