Relapse & Recovering

I am starting to come off of a couple of really bad days. It seems now (after having been to my local doc in a panic yesterday) that I developed slight cases of both pleurisy (chest pain) from the hated (but now gone) drain tubes, and a case of something called c. difficile colitis, an intestinal bug related to long-term use of antibiotics (I've been taking them since the mastectomy on 11/2). The local doc (whom I just met for the first time yesterday) was very diligent in covering all his bases, ordering thousands of dollars worth of tests at the local hospital and requiring about a day of my time. He's going to be pissed, because I decided to give it one more night of wait-and-see before subjecting myself to the maw of modern medicine once again.

I went home and rested. I did a little research online. I think his instincts and preliminary diagnoses are correct, but that I have very, very mild cases of both and will heal on my own with a little time and care. I ate some yogurt. I drank water. I feel better this morning. I think I'll bag doing the tests, but I'll have to come up with an explanation for the doc today, or he'll classify me as difficult or a slacker. He'll know when the results don't come back from all the tests, and then it will be like being sent to the Principal's office. Such is the way of medical care practicing under the shadow of legal coercion these days.

It used to be that doctors weren't Gods, but maybe they worked hand-in-hand with Him? We went to the doctor, who told us what to do, we did it, and most times it worked, and sometimes it didn't. My childhood doctor was almost a family member--he knew more stuff than we did, but he told us when there wasn't anything more he could do and even cried when he did so. He was human, one of the super-humans, but still one of us. We knew he didn't know everything, that not everything was under his control, and we treasured his advice but didn't hold him totally responsible for everything that happened to us. No more.

Now we are expected to be "informed" patients, to be advocates for our own care, to participate in decisions (but acquiesce, eventually, to their superior judgement) and sue their pants off when they make a human lapse or mistake. Doctors have to cover every single possibility, order every available test, over-prescribe drugs or procedures, wonder if their patients understand even a tenth of what they are saying to them (or doing a tenth of what they recommend). It must be hell, and I surely could not live under all that pressure. So I waver. I appreciate the advice and the knowledge, but I'm just stubborn enough to reserve the right to take the information and reject the further exploration for the time being.

I also don't feel like spending money and time and energy I don't have, to satisfy a curiosity (Yes! He was right!) on conditions that given a little time and yogurt might just right themselves. I believe in the body's ability to adjust itself. Having x-rays and CT scans and more blood tests and probably more antibiotics isn't going to balance me at this point. If it gets worse, I will definitely haul myself down to the hospital and do it. But for the moment, I'll just wait and see. That gives me the illusion of control and because he ordered all these tests on the record (and I didn't do them), he has a legal out if things turn nasty. What a world!

Melanie, sainted friend, came over with her ice-chest after work last night, moved into my kitchen and cooked me dinner! I sat at the kitchen table in my nightgown, sipped water and watched her cook. The fettuccine was sublime, mild and comforting. I couldn't eat a lot of it, but it was just what I needed. Her mom's Butterscotch Meringue pie was heaven-on-a-plate. Again, just a taste for me, but it soothed. Bill & Ray were off at Home Depot in Kingsport, so Mel and I had a chance to visit and chat and laugh, just girlfriend stuff. I thanked her kindness by dozing off on the couch, but because she's my friend, she tiptoed out with a smile and a wave. What a wonderful evening with a wonderful generous friend!

So, better and better, bit by bit, day by day. I have to keep reminding myself that this is a long-term project, and I've only just begun (and then buck myself up from that depressing thought). There is a least another year of dealing with this stuff on a daily basis, and I've got to develop both mental and physical stamina for the long haul. As daughter Juli says, "You can't stay at DEFCON-5 indefinitely." There have to be some let-down times.