Searching For A Doc

Seeing as it's almost the end of the year, and I have to get a physical before the calendar flips to 2015 to keep my health insurance discount, I had to break down and find a new doctor. This is one of the most traumatic and difficult topics of my life. One I would prefer to avoid indefinitely, if only I could write my own prescriptions and order my own lab work. With such a ridiculous medical history under my belt, I've pretty much seen it all. Over a decade of near-death encounters and chronic illness has shown me the supreme fallibility of how the practice of medicine is applied to the patient in need. I've been denied care, laughed at, accused of being a junkie, dismissed, called a liar, treated like a hysterical female not worthy of human respect, told my conditions and symptoms aren't real but psychologically manifested, and informed I was the one who needed to figure out how to get myself better. And those are just the ones that stick out in my head. Needless to say, I'm a faithless woman thoroughly and completely medically traumatized beyond repair.

Oh yes, I could easily never see another doctor for as long as I live, and be quite happy about it! Many moons ago I gave up on a doctor actually fixing me. Seeing as I was too sick to live my life, I still went to each appointment with a glimmer of hope in my heart, though. A glimmer which would quickly morph into a flaming ember of rage as my expectation took a flying leap out the window. It took a long time for me to accept the illness which devastated my life wasn't, by and large, accepted by the medical community as real. Enduring such a contradiction as the fabric of my reality made me a very bitter, angry and hostile individual. Which has done wonders to improve my tenuous physician-patient relationships. Not.

Low expectations lead to low disappointment, right? At this point I'm looking for a competent doctor who believes Fibromyalgia exists, will manage my medications, blood tests and vitals, and has hospital privileges if my body or brain tries to die again. So today, with only a few weeks left to accomplish the insurmountable, me and the internet started my search. It only took a couple of hours to find a prominent and well respected MD linked to both UCLA and Cedars-Sinai, who is taking new patients, treats Fibro, and accepts my insurance. Seriously? I was ready to spend a few days working myself into a hysterical mess of unfairness and outrage before piling into a heap of failure. I mean, it's not like I've been practicing award-winning procrastination and avoidance techniques over a few measly hours of work. Do I dare get my hopes in a tizzy again, that maybe this doctor will do something besides recognize my low thyroid and genetic triglyceride malfunction? It's a scary notion. One I will try not to get too hyped up on as I spend the next few days compiling my medical records and gathering my treatment strategy.

Thanks for joining,
Leah

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