I don’t know why I feel this way. Fearful. For some reason, I can’t pick up the phone to call my doctor. Perhaps I am embarrassed but I not usually easily embarrassed. Generally, I never like going to see the doctor anyway but this time I feel especially reluctant. Will they take me seriously? What will they do or even worse what won’t they do?
The final straw was facial hair – the unusual amount growing on my face is bringing me down, I have to get my hormones checked out. Equally depressing is my inability to lose weight despite my healthy diet and daily exercise. If it weren’t for these two things bringing me down I would probably put up with the other symptoms.
When I was in my twenties I had an ovarian cystectomy, the cyst was 15 x 14 cm and it was so wrapped around my ovaries that could only save one ovary, the other one had to be removed. It was a long surgery and I am forever grateful to the doctor, Dr. Pierre Potgieter at St Georges Hospital, Port Elizabeth who took so much care to save my one ovary. Without his dedication and care, my two precious children, Daniel and Amy, wouldn’t exist.
So with a history of cysts over the years I am extra worried.
Finally, feeling desperate to see a doctor and equally desperately afraid that they will shrug it off as normal peri-menopause and make me feel stupid for worrying, I ask my husband to make the appointment for me. At least if that first step is taken I will be brave enough to take the next steps.
The doctor calls me back and we chat through my symptoms and I tell him how I have been self-treating with My Special Cocktail. He says that my cocktail is all good and I am doing the right thing, it’s up to me if I want to keep self-treating or if I want a different treatment plan!
I feel so worried now. Is he just going to leave me self treating? So I explain my history in-depth and express my mental anguish over my concerns, and practically beg him to check out the possibility of cysts or even polycystic ovary syndrome.
“Please can you just check that it’s not cysts first so that I can have peace of mind then we can agree a treatment plan afterwards!” I plead.
“OK we can do some blood tests and a scan and take it from there,” he agrees, very much to my relief.
I simply don’t trust the process I realise, I feel like I have to tell the doctor what to do. This is why I didn’t want to call in the first place, I always feel really stupid when I practically have to beg for blood tests or scan. I hate feeling that way but at least the appointment is made and either way, once I know what is going on inside of my body I will have peace of mind and can figure out the next steps.
Am I nuts or do any of you go through such drama when having to see a doctor? Please don’t let me feel alone in this, share your experiences with me. Look out for my next post, The Results Are In.