I spent two and a half hours at the rheumatologist’s yesterday.
Two and a half hours.
And, actually, my rheumatologist comes in the plural; it’s a husband/wife operation.
I waited an hour in the waiting room. Dr. Kelly (Greco) saw me first. She asked me questions about my symptoms, plus all of the standard questions. She wrote everything down. She did a full examination and then told me Dr. Greco would be in.
More waiting.
When Dr. Greco came in, Dr. Kelly came in with him and he told me that they are married and that they will both be taking care of me. He cracked a few jokes, but not in a stiff or annoying way. His jokes were easy and fluid. Then they got down to business.
She told him everything about my illness, glancing at her notes now and then, while he took notes. He did a quick examination. Then he pulled a recorder out of his pocket and made verbal notes.
He said I would be going for more blood work and mentioned a few of the things I would be tested for (damned if I could remember them now). Then he left and Dr. Kelly took over. She checked off the things he’d suggested I be tested for, then checked off a few of her own. (I’m gonna have to have my mom look at the sheet, because I didn’t understand any of the medical jargon — ANA test? — and at that point wasn’t paying much attention anyway. I wanted OUT.)
I made an appointment for two weeks from now and left. The only major thing that happened was that the parking pay machine was out of order, so I had to pay at the exit gate by debit instead of with cash at the machine. (Don’t even get me started on how the hospital charges for parking.)
Aside from waiting for two hours and being extremely antsy and a little hyper by the time I left, I was fine. No panic attacks, no breakdowns.
The receptionist asked if I would be getting the blood work done that afternoon, but at that point I’d had enough. I may go Friday morning, but I’m not sure. (It’s my birthday, so why should I be a pincushion?)
Hopefully something comes up in my blood work. I think I’ve waited long enough for a proper diagnosis. I know that if it’s an autoimmune disease, there won’t be a cure. Which I’m fine with. I’ve accepted that. As long as I’m not going to, like, drop dead or something, I’m okay with that. I just want some answers, and a treatment plan. If I know what’s wrong, I can fix it. That’s what I’ve been clinging to for the last two years, so it’s about time I get some kind of relief.
In the meantime, school starts in less than a week. I have a lot to tell you about that, but unfortunately have to go get ready for work now so it’ll have to wait until later!
