Today is Monday, which means it is the day I call my doctor's office. Every Monday I call and talk with nurse Kathy. She asks how I am feeling and then relays this information to my doctor who then tells her to call me back to either increase, decrease or keep my dosage the same. I think this is fantastic because I don't have to adjust my schedule, get a babysitter to come in AND I don't have to pay for a visit. Which is unlike my GP who would have me come in every week just for an update on how the medicine was working. So I've been very appreciative of him doing this.
The problem has been the conversations I have with nurse Kathy. It goes something like this:
Me: I've still been sick in the mornings, but after that I have been feeling fine the rest of the day.
Nurse Kathy: Define sick.
Really? Do I have to define sick? I mean, I call you every week. Do I really have to describe the diarrhea, spurting, bleeding, every week? Don't you remember from last week when I defined "sick" for you?
I know, I know, she needs to know specifically what symptoms I'm having so she can tell the doctor. Sick, after all, is relative.
It's just I am a bit uncomfortable talking about "bathroom" things. Going to the doctors for me is horrible when first you have to tell the person all the details when you call for the appointment and then at the appointment you have to tell the lady at the registration counter, and then the nurse that takes your weight and blood pressure, and finally the doctor himself. Why can't the first person just write it down and pass it on to the others? Why do they all need a graphic description? I think they like to see us squirm.
Writing about these things on my blog is one thing, but actually having to say the words out loud--to another person--is another thing. I think it has to do with my upbringing. My parents always taught me that it wasn't proper to talk about bathroom issues. In fact, I clearly remember the day one of my visiting friends stood up and said she needed to "go pee". My mother almost fainted. Women, or anyone for that matter, didn't pee or poo. We used the restroom or needed to powder our noses or merely visited the bathroom. But we NEVER talked about what happened behind closed doors, because there is a reason those doors are closed.
So last week when she asked me to define sick I sighed and reminded myself she hears this crap (sorry, couldn't resist the pun) all the time and I shouldn't be embarrassed. But today, I just didn't feel like calling. So, I didn't. I just felt today that if I didn't acknowledge I had Ulcerative Colitis, that maybe...I wouldn't.
Embrace the Suck - When shit is all going wrong every which way, let the bull shit nestle in and find a quiet or raging pathway around it, whatever is most memorable. One day...
1 month ago