God bless my wonderful doctor. I�m still getting used to this idea that your doctor will listen to you. Back when I was in the Navy, almost anything I brought up as a complaint during five years of visits was pretty much poo-pooed away with a wave of the hand. I was not a professional, I knew nothing.
�We do not self-medicate.�
�This is why I�m a doctor and you�re an enlisted person.�
I could go on an on. The rudeness never ended. Once, I had cellulitis (I stepped on a hypodermic needle on a beach in San Diego) and the Navy doctor tried to tell me I had athlete�s foot. He�s actually flipping through a book of foot fungus and comparing my unsocked foot to the nasty pictures.
Athlete�s foot is a fungus, no?
Cellulitis is a flesh-eating bacterium. Athlete�s foot doesn�t cause huge painful puss-like sores on your feet that eventually turn clear so you can view the utter destruction of your tissue.
Athlete�s foot isn�t so painful as to cause you to eat 800 milligram Motrin like candy and it doesn�t cause you to limp around. The dope gave me Mycelex and sent me on my way.
Four days later I was taken by ambulance from the barracks to the hospital. I had a 104 fever with a red streak up my leg. The emergency room doc sternly asked me how long I�d had this and why hadn�t I had it treated?
�I did have it treated, sir,� I croaked. I explained that my doctor believed it was athlete�s foot.
�It is not athlete�s foot. It is cellulitis. If you hadn�t come in today, you�d probably be without your leg two days from now. This bacteria eats and kills body tissue.�
I shivered, thinking how I�d like to wrap my fingers around that quack�s neck for being so obviously very wrong about my diagnosis.
That ape.
That about sums up my years in the Navy. I was post-partum depressed, they gave me anti-anxiety medicine. I was anxious; it was all in my head. I admit I think I have what is clearly an obsessive-compulsive disorder; they ignore me and tell me that people have individual ways to deal with stress. I�m always very tired and rapidly gaining weight and truthfully should�ve been sent to a sleep clinic. Instead, I�m told I�m being way too lazy about my personal fitness so they put me on remedial PT four days a week. As if I�m not exhausted enough.
Fast forward to the present, where I�m telling my wonderful
Dr. Dickers that Zyprexa is treating my anxiety but I�m still having a very hard uphill battle with my depression. I meekly ask if he�d consider the Prozac with my Zyprexa, the FDA�s new pet combo.
He holds up his hands. (I�m noticing that my doctor is a very handsome man.) �Wait, before we go mixing chemicals, I need to know why you think you need this medicine.�
I explain to him that though my mood is evened out more, most days I feel mentally dull and because of that I get depressed. When I get depressed, I eat. I get depressed because I eat. It�s a vicious cycle. I�m gaining weight like crazy.
�Well, your medicine does make you retain water so that might be part of the problem..� Aha! I knew I wasn�t imagining that, �but if this is what you�re dealing with then I have no problem prescribing the Prozac. It will give you a little spike so you won�t feel so dull and it will help with your OCD and your depression.�
I could cry. I am so relieved. He listened to me. My doctor listened to my words.
Dr. Dicker�s wrote me out a prescription for the smallest dosage of Prozac. I could�ve done flips in the office.
Then he turned his attention to Jackie, who�d been very quiet like I asked her to be while I was talking with the doctor. It was time for her checkup too. He listened to her heart and lungs.
�Good news. She�s clear as a bell. This child is wheeze free for the first time since I met her.� Yay, my daughter�s asthma is being managed.
When I got home, I wanted to call everyone and tell them that my doctor prescribed Prozac, but I didn�t think anyone would be as excited as I was that he was giving me some happy pills. I think a lot of people are embarrassed by them and think that we should all just be very vivacious and happy on our own. I wish that was possible. God knows, I hate being depressed and dull and wished that I didn�t have to look to medication for help. I need it though to make it through the day. Having been depressed for 14 years now, I know that I can�t do it anymore without help.
I love my doctor. He�s interested when I tell him about my journal (as a stress reliever) and my mood charts. He thinks its imperative to find out what my triggers are. The doc didn�t ask about a psychiatrist; I guess he feels like we can manage this illness by ourselves by the time being. I eventually do want to go to a psychiatrist, but at least I can take my time finding one.
Oh, and I told him about the switch to diet soda, the cutting down on carbs, and the fact I�m trying to be more active. He did recommend I see a dietician so that I could get some help with counting calories.
All in all, I felt like that was probably the most productive Doctor�s visit I ever had. Yay.
08:59 - Wednesday, Jan. 14, 2004
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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