I'd Make a Lousy Hypochondriac

I don't know how people can be hypochondriacs.  There is nothing more boring than spending essentially half of the day in doctors' offices!

I was pleased when I got up this morning and noted that I didn't seem to have Underdog Syndrome any more.  But I was supposed to get the blood work and Kaiser called to check if I was going to be seeing my doctor.  I said that I guessed so.

I got to Kaiser early.  The lab waiting room is frequently full.   The procedure is that you take a number, sit and when it's your turn, they call your number.  But since the waiting room was EMPTY I just went up to the desk and was told I had to take a number.  I said that since there was nobody else there, I thought I could bypass that. I was literally taken to the number machine, a few feet behind me, and shown how to pull down a number and how to put it in the basket.   I did.  I went to sit down and before my butt touched the couch, they called my number.

It was like something out of Candid Camera.

The clerk asked if I was fasting.  I said that I was not because the doctor had told me this was not a fasting test.  She said there was an order on file from last October for a fasting test and I should have fasted.  I said the doctor specifically told me not to.  She checked and saw that I had a fasting test in August and asked if she would remove the orders for October.  I said yes.

I got to the doctor's waiting room about 15 minutes early and sat down to read mybook.  They finally called my name about 25 minutes later.  They did all the usual things like take my temp (normal), oxygen (normal), weight (not horrible) and blood pressure (lowest it's been in years). 

The nurse seemed confused about why I was there.  She finally asked "was this supposed to be a telephone visit?"  I told her I'd talked to the doctor four times yesterday and she said I should come in.

So she let me stay, said the doctor would be right in.  40 minutes later I was almost going to leave a note saying that I felt OK and was tired of waiting, but the doctor finally came in.  I would have ben angry about the time in the exam room were it not that (a) I had lots of time to read and (b) I remembered those long-ago days working for Women's Health when one of our doctors was perennially late and the long-suffering staff had to placate the patients.  So I continued to wait.

She finally arrived and actually we had a better chat than we normally have.  I didn't tell her about "Underdog syndrome" by name, but we discussed what had happened, about the worrisome nausea, about my fears that Underdog syndrome might be cardiac related.

She agreed that the idea of cardiac involvement had occurred to her too, and suggested I get an EKG while I was there.  She also suggested some medication adjustments to try to nail down which one might be making me sick to my stomach.

She gave me a robe to put on for the EKG.  I giggled a lot about that while it was going on.  It's a gown that opens down the middle in the front and I guess is supposed to give you a feeling of modesty, but the first thing that happens when the nurse comes in is that you lie on your back, she opens up the gown and attaches the leads and you lie there with your nipples pointing up to the ceiling, so relieved that your back is modestly covered!

The doctor conferred with a cardiolgist and they agreed there was nothing worrisome on my EKG.  She suggested I get a treadmill test also, which is scheduled for some ungodly hour tomorrow morning.  I aced that sucker in 2009, to everyone's surprise and I had every confidence that I would do it again, but after I left the office (some 3 hours after I arrived), I was feeling slight Underdog syndrome again, with the weakness of spaghetti legs and slightly heavy breathing, though less serious than yesterday, and I'm wondering if I will have problems tomorrow.

I have such renewed sympathy for people who have serious medical problems that involve multiple doctors' appointments, and am so glad that this is not my situation.   But I know people who rush off to the doctor with every little twinge or imagined twinge.  How do they do it? I hate all these appointents, especially since I feel like a hypochondriac since my symptoms are so minor.

I guess I'll hear about the lab tests tomorrow and hopefully once I finish the treadmill test, this will be the end of things for awhile.

I am also cautiously optimistic that the change in medication the doctor suggested seems to be working.  I don't feel like I have morning sickness tonight.

I spent a pleasant afternoon at the book store, which included a nice visit with an old neighbor (from the days when our neighbors actually talked to me), then came home and cooked a chicken recipe out of a diabetic cookbook, gave part of mine to the dogs because I was too full (they love me) and now as soon as The Daily Show is over, it's off to bed for me.  I have to be on the road at the crack of dawn.