When I was a teenager that confidence was shattered. Violent stomach illnesses began to flock to me regularly. The thing I remember most about my teenage years was the sickness, and that the Dr.'s couldn't really help me or tell me what was wrong.
By some miracle it eventually stopped. I was overjoyed, yet, nervous as if a sleeping monster was under my bed. After all, I really never had gotten any answers.
Something around 15 years later, I am living my adult dreams. Loving the world, hugging trees.... bla.. bla... bla.. everything is wonderful, and, "Boom!" Slowly but surely, these creeping symptoms start to appear.
I can't go down to that place, where quality of life is so heavily compromised. I won't be stuck indoors, curled up in bed praying for the pain to stop. Drowning in the haunting memories of pain and uncertainly.
I grew up through that pain, with this pain. Defeating and surviving this pain has made me a stronger woman. So in a lot of ways I am, strangely, grateful. But that doesn't mean that I ever intend to let it take over my life.
Finally, after hours of research online, phone calls to Dr.'s offices, and to insurance companies, I had it; an appointment with a Dr. who's values aligned with my own, who also happened to take my insurance.
In the week or two that it took for this Dr. to get me in for my first checkup, I spent a lot of time worrying over all kinds of things. I worried over everything from outcomes, to what the Dr. might have to say about my vegetarian diet (which I am not prepared to give up).
The day of my appointment, I had no idea what to expect. Well, maybe I had at least a very general idea, but I was still hesitant.
Assume my past encounters with doctors have not typically been positive. I was braced and ready for impact..
Poised and ready to respond, in defense, like a snake that is about to be stepped on by a large boot.
