Dear New Doctor,
Before I give you the rundown on everything that seems to be wrong with me, I want you to know I have no interest in prescription painkillers.
I had my tonsils out at 24 and was prescribed liquid hydrocodone and acetaminophen post op. It made me puke violently for days. I ended up dehydrated and delirious on the bathroom floor one Sunday morning. I remember calling my parents before they went to church and asking them to pray for me. I thought I was dying.
When I went to the Carle ER in 2014 with a gall stone but couldn’t be scheduled for surgery for some weeks, I was sent home with a prescription for Percocet. I tried taking one-quarter of the prescribed dosage. Uh, nope. Then after my gallbladder was removed, the surgeon prescribed Norco. I took it for a few days—because mother-of-god does being sliced open in four places and having an organ cut out hurt—but by day four I was so miserable I was flushing any pills that were left and cursing the little bastards as they swirled down the drain.
Why do I tell you this now? Because next I’m going to tell you that I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia last October, and I’d like to avoid the mistrustful side-eye if at all possible. Not that anyone seeking help for pain deserves the side-eye, but this isn’t about anyone; it’s about me. It’s been my experience that if you know this about me from the start, I will get better care.
You should also know that I have trust issues. About five months before the doctor at Carle ER discovered I had the aforementioned gallstone, I went to a Presence Health ER in November 2013 with what I later realized was a gladdbladder attack. (I was pretty new to the area and writhing in pain, so I told my husband to pull up to the first emergency room I saw.) The doctor there gave me a GI cocktail and sent me on my way without ever touching my abdomen or ordering an ultrasound. The hospital paperwork said I had indigestion.
Then there’s the rheumatologist that diagnosed me with firbromyalgia. I’ve already written much about that story, so let’s just say he was a total jerk.
A part of me is so frustrated with doctors that I’ve given up thinking I’ll ever find one that takes what I say at face value. Far form being an attention seeker, I’ve come to loathe scheduling appointments with people in your profession. But I know I need to give you the benefit of the doubt too. So if you promise not to give me side-eye, I promise not to give you side-eye. Deal?
I’m not looking for a quick fix to my problems. I’m not even looking for a definitive answer (though it would be nice if we stumbled across one). What I’m really looking for is someone who’s curious, likes to solve puzzles, and believes me when I say something hurts or is atypical for me. Someone who doesn’t take my insistence that a particular medicine or course of treatment isn’t helping as a personal assault on her intelligence.
Hopefully,
Emily Suess
