Have you ever put off calling the doctor, even though you know you should? Just because you feel like the biggest whiney complainer ever? Well, that is me right now. I see my doctor once a month, and I know I should call her and go in sooner, but I just cannot bring myself to do it. There is no legitimate reason, either. She always takes me seriously. I am not sure if I am afraid of another diagnosis, or of being told my weight gain over the past year is to blame.
Maybe I am just being lazy. I am in the midst of being tested for sleep apnea and hypersomnia, a form of narcolepsy. It seems like one more diagnosis at a time should be the limit. Right? I haven’t even told my husband about this latest craziness, although if it gets any worse, I won’t have much of a choice. My joints are extremely painful, especially my fingers and toes. I have not written much lately, because typing can be tough. Today is a bit better, so I am taking advantage of it.
Despite what most people seem to think about the chronically ill, I actually do not enjoy going to the doctor. Any doctor. Oh, I make the best of it when I go, don’t get me wrong. I try to be upbeat and make jokes, smile and laugh, but it’s not my favorite hobby. I just do not have a choice. Doctors are the only reason I am still alive, so my love-hate relationship leans towards love.
I feel like I complain all the time, even though I know I do not. I am so self-conscious about it, though. Doctors exist for my complaints, yet I am hesitant to call and whine. What is wrong with me? I am overthinking the whole thing, that is what. I am in pain, my doctor may very well have a solution, and I’m worried about being whiney. You know what? It’s time for me to quit being silly about this. I have a phone call to make.