Every little thing.

I went to a doctor last week. Anyone who knows me, knows this is significant. I don’t do doctors. I don’t like doctors. I don’t trust doctors. I saw an obgyn when I was pregnant and I take my son to his checkups, and even all that gives me anxiety.

But I have insurance, and a doctor everyone speaks highly of is on said insurance, and so I sucked it up and made an appointment and waited the six weeks and finally went to the doctor.

And I was incredibly disappointed.

I was hoping to feel heard, and I didn’t. I was hoping for a meaningful prognosis, and got the same old story. I was hoping to feel hopeful, and left empty handed.

Well, not completely empty handed. I left with two prescriptions. One, I was told was an anti-inflammatory, and the other I was told was like a mild muscle relaxer, so that I could sleep on my left side without pain, which is something I haven’t done in over two years.

I was given IT band exercises to do, which I’m already very well versed in, (and I found it strange she mentioned my iliotibial band by name not once), and a follow-up appointment with the promise of feeling completely restored. I wanted to be hopeful. Her attitude sure made it seem like everything was wrapped up all neat and tidy with a little bow on top.

When I left I looked at the prescriptions she ordered for me and I immediately deflated. The anti inflammatory she prescribed was a steroid. A steroid I had specifically told her another doctor tried to “fix me” with, which had done nothing.

I decided to switch gears and re-evaluate. Maybe this was what I needed right now. Maybe it didn’t work eight years ago, but it’s the jumpstart I need today. I am committed to following through with this and knowing I did everything I could.

So I sucked it up.

I decided to get the medicine. I’d do the exercises. I’d give it my all. She wasn’t the doctor I was expecting or hoping for, but I wasn’t going to let it stand in my way.

Later the pharmacy called and left a message about an insurance issue. Just another curveball the universe was throwing my way to challenge my commitment. No worries. I resolved it and all was good. And then I googled the second prescription the doctor ordered.

Sigh.

At the appointment, she had asked me how I sleep and I said fine, good, 7 hours minimum. I also said I only sleep on my right side because I can’t put pressure on the left. She said she was going to prescribe a muscle relaxer. I told her I am very sensitive to medication and didn’t want anything. She said it was just to help me sleep (remember the “I sleep fine” part?) and “we’re going to get you sleeping on your left side again!” and I thought, “that would be great!

Fast forward to the Google search.

She prescribed me a freaking anti-depressant. The whole wide world blinks in confusion.

So I spent another while reevaluating and being angry and frustrated. I felt betrayed. Here is this woman who met with me for barely 15 minutes, who is supposed to have a responsibility to each human being she meets with and she thought it would be okay to fuck with my perfectly functioning brain.

I was insulted and hurt and so freaking astounded.

This woman had no idea the challenges I’ve overcome with depression and ppd and anxiety and ocd. She didn’t know the years of trauma I’ve fought or the binge eating disorder. She didn’t know my story or what I’ve been through. She didn’t know that there was a significant time in my life I needed the anti depressants to help me find my way to equilibrium. She didn’t know the months I spent titrating off of said medication, while anxiously waiting to find out if my brain could retain equilibrium on its own.

She had no clue. And she recklessly prescribed this medication to me without thought or even the decency of telling telling me what it was.

Finally I came back to myself. And I remembered that I can trust me. And I made the decision to follow all of this through, within reason. I decided I’d take the anti inflammatory. Hopefully it would jumpstart the healing of my IT band syndome.  Hopefully IT band syndrome is the thing that’s the matter with my body. Time will tell.

I won’t even fill the anti depressant. The pharmacy can keep it. And I’ll start taking turmeric, a good anti inflammatory, as well as magnesium. And I’ll do the exercisss every day and we’ll see.

I went to the doctor, which I’m proud of, and I trusted myself, which I’m even more proud of. And I have a plan. Today that finally feels good.

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