I Heart My Gyne

I am in love with my gynecologist.  I am in love with him and I am going to take brownies to his office so I may properly profess my love. 

 


This love fest is brought to you by the Addiverse Medical Mystery.  Since July,  I've seen my gynecologist, my primary care physician, a nurse practitioner and a surgeon (for the non-hernia hernia), all in an effort to identify the cause of my medical mystery. I also got a referral to a gastroenterologist and got a cavity filled along the way, but the tooth decay having nothing to do with any of this--I just threw it in for fun. 
(NOTE: I left the previous sentence as originally written...however, as Spotted Owl astutely pointed out, the gatroenterologist did NOT fill my cavity--ha ha!  Those are two separate events, combined in one poorly-written sentence--the cavity is tooth related and involved a dentist.)


During the time between various medical appointments, I spent lots of time researching my symptoms, trying to determine if I have a problem or not.  As I've lamented before, you have to be your own best medical advocate.  A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but no knowledge is worse.  As we all know, the Internet is a very good and very bad thing.  Yes, you have access to all sorts of information; bad thing is that you have access to all sorts of information.  (God only knows how much of the information is or is not true/accurate/based in reality.   But, that's a whole different blog.)



Armed with my internet symptom-checker results, I marched back to my doctor, freaked out and sweaty. I explained that the issue was still happening and that I can now "put more words on" the pain.  I had all sorts of descriptors by now.  He ordered a CT scan and told me to make an appointment with my gynecologist.

I had the scan--complete with tampon in place--and was sent on my way by the tech, whose only words were, "the doctor will have your results this morning." For the record, I asked if they wanted me to take the tampon out for the duration of the test.  It was really hard to ask that question--how embarrassing!  They said it was fine right where it was.  Who knew you could have a tampon in during a CT scan??? It was NOT an o.b. ultra tampon, I am sorry to say.    The test results would be done this morning? That REALLY freaked me out.  The tech agreed that it usually takes 3-5 days for people to get their results but the doctor has ordered it STAT, so he'll have the results by the end of the morning.

When I called my doctor's office, the nurse confirmed my results were there. She then she asked, "oh my, how ARE you feeling?"  What? I bark back, "I'm FINE!" I am confused by her.  I ask her about the results but she hems and haws and finally tells me the doctor will call later in the afternoon.  She does nothing to build my confidence.

A nurse, not the doctor, calls me back.  Her words are--literally, I quote--"Something is wrong," "there is inflammation" and "you need to see your gynecologist as soon as you can."  As this is all awfully vague, I ask quite rudely, "can you tell me WHAT is inflamed?" She named two organs, one of which I certainly didn't want listed.  She offered no further information or explanation.  She dumped that on the gynecologist.

By the time I got to the gynecologist this morning, I was a hot mess, scared out of my wits.  The wife sat in the corner, ready to take notes. When asked why I was so scared, I explained the phone interactions and that I had no idea what the actual report indicated.  I blubbered out how my symptoms and the nurse's comments had me so freaked out that I could barely function.

God love that man.  My gynecologist pulled up a seat and read the report word by word with me and the wife.   He explained what each statement meant and then would make a comment like, "well, that's nothing to worry about."  He seemed perplexed, as there was nothing troubling in the report.  While it didn't identify the problem, it sure ruled out my biggest concerns. He then talked to me about how the nurse should not have been the one to call me or make those statements.  I daresay he looked quite irritated. To calm my fears further, he did a thorough (and, I do mean thorough) exam.  (The wife went flying out of the room during this part.  She says she doesn't even want to be there when it's for her own exam, so she really didn't want to be in the room for someone else's exam.)  The doctor named all the parts he was squeezing/touching/fondling/examining and then announced all was well.  He decided the gastroenterologist was a good idea and took time to explain why he thought this a good idea.   I was no longer scared.  I still had the symptoms but I was not scared.

The wife returned in to the exam room, relieved to hear the good news that all my parts were in fine working order.

He then did the nicest thing a doctor has ever done for me: he hugged me.  What a man!  I can't say I ever imagined I would get a hug from my gynecologist. 

And so, I am in love with my gynecologist.  He didn't solve my problems but he answered my questions and gave me so much more than most people ever get when dealing with the medical system.  He gave me his time, his attention, his interpretation of a report, his support, his expertise.  I especially appreciate that he gave me eye contact when he was talking to me.  Eye contact. Such a little thing that means so much.

If that doesn't rate a batch of brownies, I don't know what does.