I am anti-doctor

So, this past week I visited the doctor/hospital more than I have the entire rest of the year combined. And it has not done much to make me want to visit it more. I decided I am against doctors. At least for now. Maybe check back in a while, perhaps when I am sick and need them again.

This post is mainly for my own use, for record-keeping, etc. Feel free to read on if you like, otherwise, I won't be offended.

It all started on Monday, when I went in to the Doctor to check up on my thyroid levels (another long story, probably for another post, another day) I mentioned casually my feeling that the reason we have struggled for 5 years to regulate them was because I have a growth on my pituitary gland (all hypochondriac symptoms aside, it actually makes sense) The doctor agreed, so I was scheduled to have a CT scan of my brain (or the section called the Sella) to see if there were any weird growths, rampant brain cancer, etc.

Tuesday afternoon, I leave work early and head over to the hospital. I am actually excited about the CT scan (I've had one before of my head) but mostly excited because I have the feeling I am about to be proven right. I walk in, receive random compliments from the tech about my bag, and lie down. It's painless, and over in a few minutes. Then, I'm off down the hall to get some blood drawn, and on my merry way.

Wednesday morning, I receive a call from the doctor's office telling me to call back and get my test results. So, I call back during my lunch to be informed that (like this is a huge surprise to me by now) my blood work was back, and the levels are way low. Big surprise there. That's the whole problem. Anyways, I ask the lady if my CT results are back, and she says no. So, I hang up the phone. Literally 5 seconds later, my phone rings. I answer it, and it's the same lady.

Is Latu There?
Yes. This is her.
This is Carol from Dr. *****'s office. I have some test results for you from your CT scan yesterday.
Yeah, I just finished talking to you.
Oh! I'm sorry! I JUST saw these results!
You're fine. What do they say?
Well, it looks like there is a growth on your pituitary. We're going to have you go in for an MRI.

That's the part where my heart hit the floor of my car. Possibly the parking lot beneath. It was absolutely crushing. I have never been so horrified at being proven right in my life. There are not words to express how absolutely terrified I was at that point. I pulled it together long enough to to schedule the MRI for the next morning, but then I fell to pieces.

To make matters worse, the one person I needed to talk to at that point (my mama) was MIA. So, I cried for a minute, and then went back in to work.

Thursday morning, I was awake before dawn (even though I work mornings, I try never to greet the sunrise) and getting ready. They did not give me a whole bunch of info about how to prepare, but I knew the "M" in MRI stood for magnetic, so I made sure I was not wearing any metal (the last thing I wanted was to have to wear a hospital gown for the MRI)

When I saw the machine, and how incredibly tiny it was, I started getting VERY anxious. (Up to this point, the only thing I could imagine was a scene from House, where they do an MRI on a newborn. The MRI machine absolutely dwarfs the baby. I just assumed that the MRI machine they were using was a baby one, and they had adult machines that were 4 or 5 feet in diameter. WRONG!)

It was a lot of talking myself down and prayer that kept me from a full-blown panic attack once I got in the MRI machine. (that, and there was NO way I was going to do it again because I was moving and ruined the pictures) I was in up to my knees, struggling to keep my breathing in check, and wondering why, if they were imaging my brain, I had to be in the tube up to my knees. I got through the 45-minute process, and then the waiting game began.

Friday I got the fateful call from Carol, my favorite test-results reader.

Um.... looks like your pituitary is normal!
..... OK.... That's good, right?
Yep! Have a great day! Click.

So, either I was healed (which is incredibly possible, because of the priesthood blessing I received) or the radiologist read the CT results wrong (or, the radiologist read the MRI results wrong, and my brain is slowly being taken over by a tumor, unbeknownst to us all)

Whichever option is right (I won't know until I go into the doctor again) it has me looking at the world just a little differently.

I have spent a long time focusing more on the things I don't have, and not enough time focusing on the blessings I do have. Just in time for Thanksgiving, I am determined to be a more grateful person.