I've had an on going medical issue that has lasted for months. After this test and that test we all agreed that it wasn't the BIG C.
That sigh of relief you heard a few weeks ago, yeah, that was me.
That's all good. It truly is. Now it's just a matter of finding a surgeon that will accept my case. I had no idea that surgeons could be so picky. I guess I understand it though.
Annie can't do anything the easy way.
This week I have three, yes three, doctors appointments. I'm also training newbies at work (love them!). I'm driving Girl to school (she drove on the freeway for the very.first.time.today!!) and the house needs cleaning, meals need cooking, and Beloved likes to talk to me every once in a while.
A couple of days ago, because all that wasn't enough, my jaw started hurting. It mainly hurts when I wake up, but it kinda hurts during the day. It's right where the two jaw bones connect. Oh, and it bugs me if I chew anything hard such as almonds.
I'm confessing, right here and right now, that I haven't phoned the dentist.
Do I really need another doctors appointment this week?
Plus, I need to have doctor number one assure doctor number two (so she can assure the surgeon...if we ever find one) that I am not a nut job.
Y'all know what a sappy, emotional, weepy girl I can be. Tis true. Doctor number two is new to the emotional roller coaster that I am. I've cried twice in her office and both times I felt like an IDIOT. I hate crying in front of people that don't know me. Everyone who knows me just brushes it off and hands me a tissue.
Doctor number two asked why I was crying the first time I visited her. I confessed that I was scared to death that it was cancer. I think she understood that and we moved on.
Visit number two confirmed that it wasn't cancer, but there were other matters at hand that needed to be addressed. Of course I cried again. Damn it! This time Doctor number two looked at me quizzically and asked how my Beloved was handling all this.
Oh! She wants to know how supportive he is and if he has a clue. I assured her that my Beloved is a prince among men! A prince I say! She prodded me with more questions about him until my pea brain understood what she was saying...
"No, he isn't abusive!" Good Lord Almighty!
And that's when it happened. I think Doctor number two decided that my weepy, sappy behavior is due to a lack of emotional fortitude.
She thinks I'm a crack-pot
So, now I have to talk to Doctor number one, who has known me for years and years, and see if she'll write a nice little note in my chart about how stable and NORMAL I am.
And then maybe we can convince a surgeon.
And then we can all meet up in February (should have been January) and get this all taken care of.
And then I can get on with life.
Unless something else decides to fall apart.