Let’s Get Personal - Chapter 4

The day I cried in the reception lobby of a specialist office…

Okay, so the story begins with me getting yet another referral from my family doctor - this time for a specialist at a Women’s Health Centre - which had an incredibly long waiting list. Miraculously I got an appointment for end of September (it was early-mid summer at the time I got the appointment). At this point in my life, I had seen every doctor you could think of, and was in communication with my naturopath regularly just trying to adjust my daily habits to cope with the pain. I had used multiple steroid creams, yeast infection antibiotics, probiotic creams, aloe vera, primrose oil, as well as a Sitz Bath and oatmeal bath. I had tried both the Candida Diet and the Low-Oxalate Diet, and did allergy testing. To say I was frustrated is quite the understatement.

The morning of the appointment I was running late, seriously late. I hate parking downtown. It stresses me out. And due to the importance of this appointment, anxiety was already running high.

After parking I walked to the location, but google maps was being SUPER WEIRD and not recognizing the actual location of the building. I must have paced back and forth the same street 10 times in a state of panic. I finally found what I thought was the building and went to the front desk. The gentleman there had no idea what I was talking about, and just seemed genuinely confused. He said I was at the wrong location, and had no idea of the women’s health floor I was looking for.

I went back onto the street, and suddenly remembered one of my best friends had worked at this hospital, so I call her. God bless her soul because she directed me to the building over the phone as she was getting ready to write an exam at school. Safe to say I have pretty amazing friends.

Once I located the building, I darted up the stairs, arriving about 5 minutes late. I walked up to the receptionist out of breath, “Hi sorry I’m a little late I have an appointment with Dr…. at this time.” She looked at the schedule on her sheet, “Hmm..” she said with confusion in her voice. I anxiously watched as she examined the list for the second time, “Please tell me my name is on that list”, I pleaded, feeling my heart pound against my chest from my sprint just minutes ago. She turned to her computer screen to double check the system, “Ok, so it looks like you do have an appointment on this day and time…

…next year.”

Now, I’m not sure why she decided to phrase her sentence like that??? And to be honest I’m still a little bitter. I looked at her as tears welled up in my eyes, “I’m so sorry but I’m going to cry”. I started to sob, people in the waiting room started to stare. The receptionist was quite overwhelmed, handing me a tissue box as I begged her, asking if there was anything she could do. She said she would go speak with the doctor so I went down the hallway to take a moment, wiping the tears from my face.

I pulled myself together, and met her back at the desk.

She could get me in two months time - that was the best they could do. Which honestly is pretty amazing considering my actual appointment was a year from then, but in that moment it didn’t feel like a win. I must have looked pretty hysterical for them to grant me an appointment 10 months earlier than my actual one lol.

I went downstairs to the lobby, sat on this horribly uncomfortable chair, and called my boyfriend of the time. I was completely distraught. I don’t know if he truly understood what this meant for me. He told me everything was going to be okay. I guess I just wanted him to be as angry as I was?

Two more months of pain.

Two more months of not knowing.

I can’t do two more months. It’s been too long already. I’m tired. I want to give up.

There’s nowhere else to go. The pain isn’t leaving and I’m scared it never will.

The funny thing is, I was experiencing the biggest flare up I’d had in a while that day. And I was excited because a doctor was finally going to be able to assess me when I was at my worst. Isn’t that stupid? Being genuinely excited to have a flare up just so someone will finally believe you? As if that will change anything? How extensively invalidated does your pain need to be to get to that point?

I’m not healthy. Please stop telling me I’m healthy. There’s something wrong. Why won’t you listen?

I had to go to class that day so I hopped on the subway, meeting my boyfriend on the way. He gave me a gift, and it was sweet. The weight in my chest didn’t do away, it felt heavier than it ever had before.

He wanted me to be less sad.

But being sad is how you cope. Being sad is all I had.

Stay tuned for my next “Let’s get personal”, where I go to the real appointment.

xoxo

Divulge