I don’t like going to the doctor.
When I was in nursing school, I accidentally ate microscopic bugs; I’m sorry to report, I do believe I ingested some strangers feces. One night after stuffing my head to the brim with fun pharmacology facts, I stuffed my face full of Rubio’s salsa. I ate great gobs of it, the roasted chipotle kind, I poured the smokey goodness over my beans and rice, and scooped it up with salty chips, already heavy with the weight of guacamole. I love salsa bars, the variety, the little plastic cups, the all-you-can-eat-sauciness…. and then….2 hours post- prandial, I began having what felt like labor pains…oh my god, I’m dying! I thought about going to the emergency room, because it was that bad. but, instead I breathe, sweat, and empty my back-end while self diagnosing…. this could be food poisoning..or….maybe it’s irritable bowel syndrome? Didn’t we learn that it can be brought on by extreme stress, and nursing school is stressful, extremely..I AM NOT GOING TO THE ER! I decided i had IBS. Did I really believe that I had irritable bowel syndrome, even though my symptoms appeared shortly after consuming food from a salsa bar where oodles of other people’s germs mixed and mingled in a microorganismic free-for-all? Sort of.
My diagnosis of IBS worked for me. I knew that there wasn’t any treatment or definitive diagnosis for IBS, just a ruling out of other more ominous GI upsets, which I assured myself I did not have. IBS also DIDN”T work for me, conservative management includes cutting out chocolate and coffee. So, I was a non-compliant patient; one who doesn’t follow the recommended course of management and/or treatment of a disease. I was in nursing school, and giving up coffee and chocolate simply wasn’t an option, no matter how many times I almost pooped my pants in public. By the time I finally went to the doctor 3 months later, I was experiencing heart palpitations, shortness of breath, and I dropped 10 pounds ( I’m not complaining about that last boon…look, I’m as vain as the rest of you!) I will spare you with the details of my hellish interaction with the “medical professionals”…but after it was all said and done, I had me a real expensive diagnosis made by a real expensive doctor. I had blastocystis hominus and severe anemia caused by frequent and sometimes bloody stooling. I had intestinal parasites likely contracted after consuming chipotle salsa prepared by some fool who went number 2 and neglected to follow the most important rule of all ….WASH YOUR POOPY PAWS…..FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!!
I got some antibiotics which eventually killed the little buggers, which eventually led to an overgrowth of other less slimming buggers….but that’s another story covered in another post, ( Sweet Sacrifice, December 2010).
I have a dear friend who always seems to be visiting the MD for this or that….I have diagnosed her with stress and fatigue….she is the mother of 3 little girls, and she works outside the home. She is TIRED like nobody’s business…and she wonders why????? The woman never slows down. Today I was on the phone with her, and she was asking me if I knew if Mayo offered a wellness checkup , I had already spoken with a doc about her symptoms and he agreed with my diagnosis after hearing all the details of her life. I told her she went to the doctor more than anyone else I knew, after a pause, she said, “really? maybe it’s because I’m waiting for one of them to tell me that I’m dying so that I can be put to sleep!” We both laughed at this for a good solid minute…I’m still laughing… in line at Trader Joe’s I’m howling while remembering her words….
I do go see a doctor on a regular basis. I understand about 60 percent of what he is saying; this is up from the 20 percent I understood when I started seeing him 6 years ago. I figure I get the parts I need. He has a very thick accent. My doctor used to work on the weekends at the indoor swap- mart on 27th avenue and Camelback, which was so wonderfully weird I almost didn’t mind listening to a DJ spin really bad rap music at deafening volumes and having it delivered from scratchy speakers while having my spine cracked and realigned. Dr. Ow used to give community service at a swap-mart rate, and now he has a nice office in a nice building with a nice receptionist and very nice and reasonable rates. He is a Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine, a Kung Fu, Chi Gong, and Tai Chi master, an ex-Buddhist Monk, and an ex-Orthopedic Surgeon. His real name isn’t Dr. Ow, but it rhymes with it, and he gives the most painful, most interesting….most HEALING treatments in the land. Did I say painful? Today he manipulated spots in my BIG TOE that had me pressing my hands into my face while screaming at the top of my lungs. He laughs…”Kate, I give you special torture today!” He also gives special advice. He always talks with me about my love life, I fascinate him with my singlehood. “Kate…you need husband! husband love you, no matter you no love him. he take care for you. Boyfriend no good no more for you.” I think that’s what he said….He tells me it’s okay to cry. To cry A LOT…he says it detoxes and will give great longevity. I scream the loudest ( except during special tortures) when he pushes on my lung meridian, inevitably I start leaking warm salt water while laughing…stopping only to scream and shout…F****CKKKKKK!!!!!!! This always makes Dr. Ow laugh while pretending to look surprised….but it doesn’t make him stop….I always leave feeling clean and bright…blocks are cleared…for now.
When I had blastocystis hominus I went to see Dr. Ow first. He stuck needles in my belly and gave me little black pebbles to swallow, I guess they were Chinese herbs. Of course it didn’t work, cause well…I don’t know, I guess I didn’t take the herbs consistently, and well….I needed some big fat western antibiotics…oregano oil wasn’t going to kill my infestation people….Still Dr. Ow is my favorite doctor.
Today I am writing to post again…and it feels good. I told myself I wouldn’t…I didn’t want to anymore…then Dr. Ow gives me special torture, and here I am. I love good medicine.
I’m happy to share Dr Ow, just ask. …. he only gives special torture to his “old patients” 🙂