Today is the day. The day I've been waiting for. Today is my appointment to see the pulmonologist. You know, the rock star that I've been anticipating for a couple months as I've been struggling to breathe.
Do you think it would be too much if I greeted him by saying that I've looked forward to meeting him more than the second coming of Jesus?
I'm afraid though. Terribly afraid of getting the kiss off like I got with the rheumatologist. "Sorry, don't know, can't help you, good luck with your search..." I am the kind of person that likes to play things down so that when I get kicked in the teeth, it doesn't hurt so much. This also leads to the kind of personality that gets a little too grateful when people agree with me on topics like whether or not I am really sick. When my family doctor told me I was sick, I wanted to genuflect and kiss his stethescope.
I did end up going into Urgent Care last week as my roller coaster prednisone dosage was being cut down and I became really tired of trying to breathe. Well, I'll be! The Urgent Care doc thought that part of my problem was that my connective tissue in my ribs was swollen and not allowing my chest to expand. Holy Shit! I told the docs that along time ago. Guess what? They looked puzzled and perhaps wrote it down but no one actually put their hands on my rib cage to, you know, BE A DOCTOR AND INVESTIGATE.
So after seeing the Urgent Care doc, he talked to my family doc and apparantly there are machinations occuring to get me down to Mayo. Urgent Care Doc is convinced that this is rheumatologic in origin. But perhaps there is lung rot in there as well.
So, I see the family doc again tomorrow to get the skinny on how many more months I will have to wait to see another doctor.
In the mean time, I find it increasingly hard to do really crazy things like press down on the gas pedal and brake when I drive. Or open heavy doors. Or chew things like steak. Or walk. And there's always that breathing thing.
But fortunately, this isn't THEIR emergency.
It's just mine.