Yesterday, I had my gastroenterologist appointment. I wasn’t expecting much from the appointment, especially with the doctor being so dismissive in previous appointments and with my tendency to be cowed by
some most doctors. I didn’t really do that this time, but the results were the same. The doctor was dismissive and pretty much laughed in my face when I told him what was wrong. He said that my bed needed to be raised up so that I wouldn’t have heartburn, after I told him that the issue was a squeezing/cramping/clamp-feeling-type of pain in my throat and the center of my chest. And when I mentioned that the hematologist had requested that I have a colonoscopy, he said that was ridiculous. He looked it up in my chart and said he had the letter from the hematologist saying the same thing, so he knew I wasn’t asking for a colonoscopy just to have one–because I guess people may do that. He said there was absolutely no reason to think that I could be losing vitamins, minerals, or blood via my digestive tract. (You know, because actually seeing blood coming out doesn’t really mean it is coming out.) When I tried to push the issue, he just continued to dismiss it. He did offer to write me a prescription for a hospital bed, which I politely declined.
He did say that the pain that I have could be caused by a hernia of some sort from the gastric bypass surgery, but he didn’t seem concerned by that thought. It seems odd that I would have developed said hernia almost 10 years post-op and that it would hurt worse when I eat certain foods. He suggested that I go see the former partner of the surgeon who did the surgery if I’m concerned about it. I don’t particularly want to go back to that clinic, even if my old surgeon has moved out of town. The last time that I tried to see my surgeon, I was told I had to see a nutritionist there and that it wouldn’t be covered by my insurance, so I’d need to fork over a lot of cash that day. The nutritionist’s office was more like an office where they sold their own mixtures of vitamins and powders and stuff. (Basically, it was retail operation and not a medical office.) Even if my suck-tastic surgeon isn’t there anymore, I have a feeling that they are still doing the same style of business.
My dad went with me into the appointment because I knew without someone there that I would back down easier. I also thought maybe his presence might make the doctor be a little less dismissive. It didn’t. Apparently the only family member that he (the doctor) is afraid of is my mother. (I definitely do not blame him for fearing her. She can be a force to be reckoned with.)
Anyway, after relaying all of the information back to my mom, and having my dad vouch for my actually standing up for myself with the doctor, my mom decided that I needed to find a different GI doctor. (I had already figured this out.) So we called UAB and found out that I have an appointment there next Wednesday and that I can get a new referral then. So I get to wait another week to find out which doctor I might get to see, and then I’ll wait however long it takes to see the new doctor.
In non-abdominal related news, Nana called this morning. She said she’d had a dream that we had gotten a dachshund, at which point my mom told her that we’d gotten Amy. (We hadn’t told her because she isn’t exactly pro-dog or any non-cat type of animal.) Anyway, she was actually excited and wants us to bring Amy down there so she can meet her. She even said that she wouldn’t get upset if Amy has an accident (potty-type) on her floors, which was shocking. (When we first got Xander, she wouldn’t let him in her house for long because she was afraid he would pee on her floors.)
She then said that my cousin and his wife had gotten three cats. Nana, who (as I’ve mentioned) is a cat fan, pointed out to my mom’s sister that three cats could mess up a house to the same extent as five dogs. (My mom’s sister is a bit anti-dog/pro-cat, but so is Nana, so it’s strange that Nana is challenging her on the cat/dog front.) We had three cats for a long time, so I know that they can get a bit messy. (My mom used to have to clean our hall’s carpet everyday because there was an ongoing pissing contest between two of our three cats. They were spayed, had 3 litter boxes, lots of toys, lots of attention, and each had their own places to hang out. These two just hated one another.) I think Nana was just trying to prove that we weren’t necessarily as bad as my mom’s sister seems to think we are. Anyway, I hope that they have fun with their new kitties and that they aren’t too much trouble. I miss having cats sometimes–okay, I miss our old cats a lot of the time, even though they’ve been dead for almost 10 years now.
I was going to mention something else, but I totally forgot what it was.