BLOG LaFleur: Hypochondriasis, maybe

Hypothetically speaking, if you are worried about having hypochondriasis, are you then by definition, a hypochondriac? Perceived or not, I have spent more time in medical facilities this week than many people spend in a year. Or ever. Any lucky you, get to hear about it. Now, I am an over-sharer and this is all fairly embarrassing, so just do me a favor and don't read any farther. That or be prepared to learn a lot more about my innards than either of us care for you to know.

Friday: Annual physical at my family doctor. Complaints included 'female issues' (let's just leave it at that) and a oddly sore left hip.

Monday: Imaging center for pelvic and "transvaginal" ultrasounds. Now, somehow when I looked at the paperwork my doctor gave me, I skimmed over the "transvaginal" part. I just envisioned getting one of those belly exams that they give to pregnant ladies. And no, my eggo is definitely not preggo. An hour before the scan I had to drink 1 liter (32 oz) of water and NOT pee, which was a serious accomplishment, given that I normally go every 7 seconds. The pelvic exam was painless, I was able to whiz, and then the technician said "the second scan is done through the vagina, is that ok with you?" I don't know what I ideal response would have been, but I was a bit shocked and said "well that sucks, but if my doctor wants it then its ok." I'll spare you the majority of the details, other than that the scan took a LONG time, because of what the technician called "gas." Yes, that kind of gas, which I wasn't even aware I had. She kept cursing, apologizing, sort of punching me in the gut, and then getting me to sort of punch myself in the gut, all so that she could get better images of my womanly bits without my huge gas-riddled bowels obstructing the view. AND with a rather uncomfortable camera dangling from a very precarious place. Nice.

Tuesday: Dentist. I finally ordered and paid for invisalign "braces." I am cursed with terrible teeth, and I am sure that I've covered more than my share of my dentists' Mercedes payments. Anyhow, bad teeth and crowding aren't working out for me, so the crowding has to go. I can't have regular braces (not that I particularly want them), because I have tooth demineralization and the metal braces would be too damaging to my pathetic teeth. Eye-rolling.

Wednesday: OOH! No Dr.s appointments and I actually got some work done.

Thursday: Visit to my friendly orthopedic surgeon and x-ray technician. Run-of-the mill appointment with a 1 hour wait in the little room. Why do they stick you in that horrible little room and then leave you there forever to die?! I understand that the doctor gets busy, but leave me in the WAITING room where there are magazines, television, and other humans. That little room is torture and I am tempted to snoop and terrified that I will get caught. Anyhow, the doctor looked at the x-rays of my pelvis and femora with me, and wanted to be sure that I knew the big black spots were not cancer. No, no, those giant black blobs were gas, and he announced it to the whole world. Seriously? Now not only am I worried that I am a hypochondriac, but I am also worried that I have some rare and unusual farting disease. Clearly I need to see a specialist for these new disorders, right?

Tomorrow: Fasting blood draw, non-fasting blood draw, and an MRI.

Let's just hope I don't a) worry myself into a hypochondratic coma, or b) blow up.

And for no particular reason, the following are some more of my camera trap photos from Madagascar.

A radiated tortoise.