Poke it with a stick

In today's world, it often pays to "leave well enough alone." I know this but do not always listen.

I also forget that "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

You know me--I see something, I have to poke it with a stick.

So, despite feeling fine (besides a really irritating post-nasal-drip-clearing-of-throat issue for the past bazillion months), I decided to get a physical and have my goiter checked. I have a new doctor, so I thought it be best to meet him when healthy instead of sick. This is my new "preventative way" of "doing" medicine, so I thought I'd be cutting edge.

Besides, if it ain't broke, go to the doctor and get in the medical loop so they can find something broken. I don't think that is how wellness is supposed to work but it seems to be the rule of thumb.

My new doctor, who appeared to be 12 years old, took time to introduce himself, right down to the ages of his children and the length of his marriage. At first, I thought this was delightful--what doctor in this day and age actually times to talk like this? It was then I realized he might be trying to reassure me (and himself) that he is actually older than he looks. Perhaps that's why I found it really important to tell him I still get my period every month to the day--I'm not as old as I look, pee wee.

Okay, so maybe he's 30. I didn't ask. Let's go with 30. Better than 12.

This was an interesting "establishing patient" examination, to say the least. He didn't mention my blood pressure (which was borderline high and if I were the doctor, I'd mention it) or my pulse (which was ridiculously fast at the time the nurse took it and a "must" for review). He didn't look in my ears or squeeze my glands. He didn't listen to my heart (he did give a remedial listen to my lungs) and he didn't test my reflexes or anything of the sort. Instead, he questioned me about mental illness, this after reviewing my currently prescribed medications and taking a gander at whatever is written in my history--of which I could not see because the computer monitor was facing away from me. Um, hello? My blood pressure is high. I've got this coughing thing and my goiter is going to reach out and touch you. Don't you want to talk about that, instead?

Let it be known the number one reason I hate going to any doctor: EVERYTHING is mental illness--Broken tail bone? Oh, that's depression. Don't worry about that x-ray showing the broken bone. That broken tail bone is definitely mental illness. IT'S A FRICKIN' BROKEN BONE! That cut on my face that needs stitches from getting hit with a softball? Oh, that must be some form of anxiety. I'M BLEEDING AND I NEED STITCHES! I don't see "Softball-to-the-face Personality Disorder" in the DSM-V. Ugh.

I finally had to stop him and tell him that I work in the mental health field and that I'm well-versed on the topics at hand. Despite this, he handed me a one-page form with ten questions about my current mental status, I started chuckling, then asked, "are these questions for today, the past month or history--what's the time frame?"

It didn't matter--I was just poking a stick at it. After telling me it was for the past two or three weeks, I rated everything 'zero' and smiled, pushing the form back across the counter. Give me a stupid form, will you? I didn't see anything about a goiter on there. I didn't see anything about my blood pressure. What about my exercise and diet? What about my Tailor's bunyon?

My goiter would have jumped up and bit him in the face, had it been given the chance.

We FINALLY moved on to the goiter. I almost peed myself when he gave me a referral to an endocrinologist (I've waited 20 years for one of those) and was smitten when he read aloud the results of my ultra sound from many years ago--the lumpy, bumpy non-toxic goiter. I was giddy when he talked to me about the various lab results I've had over the past many years. So, he got points back after going in the hole with all the mental illness crap.

Here's where I really should have left well enough alone. I mentioned--once again--the "clearing of throat" thing. Heck, I'm there, I have his attention, I haven't been able to get rid of this irritating issue for months. The wife wants to slap me because it's so irritating. I poked that non-broken things with a stick until it jumped around. After looking in my throat for all of 1/2 of a 1/2 second, he declared it was a post nasal drip--of which I couldn't argue. Hell, even I can see that when I look in the mirror. He didn't look in my ears or my nose. He still didn't feel my glands. (Is post nasal drip mental illness? I think it is! Bipolar Nasal Drip. Get a rating scale!)  He prescribed some nose spray (um, I don't have and haven't had a clogged nose or sinus issues at this time, but okay), told me to use a neti pot (for my clogged nose and sinuses, of which aren't clogged in any capacity, but okay--that's good advice for anyone) and told me to change my OTC allergy med.

(Note to self: ignore all this and don't pick up the prescription. I'm going the garlic route and a few other natural ways of treating this.)

The doctor printed out the summary for the visit and reviewed it with me, emphasizing the stuff I need to do (have labs, schedule a visit to the endocrinologist, fit in a mammogram, eat iodized salt, change OTC med, blah blah blah). He was very detailed-oriented, circling words like "goiter" and "iodized." It was impressive as no doctor had done that before. He told me to see the endocrinologist, get a ultrasound of my goiter, eat more iodized salt (um, should I be eating salt with borderling high blood pressure) and to return in 6 months as follow up.

I took the print out and went back to work. When I sat down and my desk and fully looked at it, I had quite the surprise....he had provided a diagnosis of PND Paroxysmal Nocturnal Dyspnea.

Go ahead and google that puppy.

I am here to tell you it left me VERY confused. The doctor never said anything about me having issues with lung or heart failure, leading to me gasping for air in the middle of the night. I don't gasp for air in the middle of the night. He didn't talk about this with me at all. How could he give me a diagnosis like this without talking to me about it? Was this an old diagnosis of which I didn't know I had? How could I not know something like this? Was this from back in 1997 when I had to wear a Holter monitor? I never did hear the result of that besides I didn't need medication. Could this be an error? Everything else was correct. How could he make that kind of error? I showed the nurse at work. We got a good laugh out of it. I obviously wasn't dropping dead of this. She figured it was a coding error. I figured it was an error, too but it is disconcerting to see something like that and not know where it came from

I emailed the doctor and figured I'd hear back sooner or later. I heard him very quickly. His email featured a VERY apologetic tone.

Oh, he got the PND right.....I do indeed have PND. Yes, I do.

....but, in my case the PND stood for.....

....post.
....nasal.
....drip.

Oh, dear god, I snorted with laughter when I read that. Post.Nasal.Drip!!!!

No heart or lung failure for me--just a running-down-the-back-of-my-throat drip. I will be keeping this print out for eternity because every time I think about it or look at it, I start laughing. Maybe I shouldn't be laughing but I can't help it. Oh dear, maybe my laughter is a sign of mental illness.....

I wholeheartedly disagree. I believe my laughter is a sign of mental wellness.

VERY healthy mental wellness.

You know I think I have two forms of PND....post nasal drip and.....

PATIENT.
NEEDS.
DARK CHOCOLATE.

Poke that with a stick and my goiter will bite you.
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(Just so everyone can relax, my chart and diagnosis has been fixed. My PND of the nose kind, I'm sorry to say, continues at a blistering pace. Bring on the holistic approach....and the dark chocolate.)