So I finally found a new Doctor... only a half an hour drive over a shit load of hills but I found one.
But...
That's not really the problem...
He's an intern which means he probably won't be there for too long (internship is something like
3 years I think and I am not sure how long he has been there already)... I'm not thrilled about that as it means that, should I stay in the area for a few more years at least I will have to find another doctor.
But...
That's not really the problem...
I looked him up on the clinics web site (being a resident I figured he was probably rather young). From the picture of him and the fact that undergraduate school is four years and med school is another four I'd guess he's only a few years older than me... probably younger than my older sister... That's a little weird.
But...
That's not really the problem.
Obviously, from the above bit, the doctor is a guy. That can come with it's own set of 'worries' (OK so I'm easily embarrassed, doctor or no...) but as women, especially those in helping professions -at least when I am the one they are dealing with- tend to 'bug' me (very descriptive, I know) it's not worrying me all that much... yet.
But..
That's not really the problem.
So what the hell 'really the problem'?
My scars. My history (specifically the last four years, more precisely the last two, and even more so, that year or so from about May 2007 through July or August 2008).
Those things, that's 'really the problem'.
My scars. I'm mortified about someone else seeing them. I'm ashamed and embarrassed. People tell you not to be, hell, I tell others not to be. I've had folks in the medical profession tell me the equivalent of 'you shouldn't be ashamed'... but what they are really saying is ' don't be ashamed, you're totally messed up, you can't help it'.
My 'history'. *shudder* I don't want to go into that either. I don't want to tell another person, another stranger, that I wanted to die. I don't want to talk about how bad it got. I don't want to have someone ask, wonder, how I'm feeling... not again.
That's 'really the problem'.
8 comments:
this is one of the most frustrating things about this whole process. it's like every time you have to start from scratch, it's like having to strip yourself bare with remembering; facing the past traumas and the present turmoil. and no one seems to care that remembering can sometimes be the kissing cousin of reliving.
the thing that hurts the most is watching the doctors, the nurses, the therapists as they lean in a little too much, taking their notes, their eyes hungry as i roll up a sleeve or the hem of my skirt. it wouldn't feel so much like a problem if i didn't feel so much like i was trading pieces of myself away.
Hi. I just found your blog. I can really relate to this. The good news is that sometimes the anticipation is worse than the reality. I know it's not easy to tell your story. I don't know how many times you've told it, but I've been in the hospital and emergency rooms so many times that it's not that big a deal to me anymore. Sometimes we have to go in it with that mindset... just say it even though it's revealing and realize that this doctor will keep it confidential (which he will). And take it from there. Paul
*nods at N-E* lol sorry, don't know what else to call you.
Sounds about right to me... you've got a good way with words.
Paul
You're right about anticipation sometimes being worse than the reality... I've expreienced that a lot, lol. Only problem is is that I've got a week to anticipate it, lol. Most of the time I'm good at seperating myself from it when I have to do something like that... but apparently that's not a good thing (dissociation) and usually causes folks to note that I present with a 'flat affect'... but it's all I can do.
Ah, we shall see.
Thanks all.
That was one of the hardest things that I had to realize about the current medical profession. Movies and TV have always portrayed them as caring individuals. And maybe some of them are... but I haven't found them yet. To a lot of them... it's a job, one that they'd like to get through with a minimum of fuss and bother.
I'm hoping that the one you see is one of those rare individuals that can look past the symptoms and see the individual.
I can understand your concern and hesitation. I too have been in the driver’s seat of the SI and SIB...of wanting to die.
And there are asshole docs out there, I know, I've seen a few. There are also some compassionate, educated in the 'world' docs who will understand. From my own personal experience, I have been in the position where I have to wear a long sleeve jacket or shirt to a meeting out of embarrassment of my own scars. And I could write, "so what - everyone has their own struggles" - but that wouldn't make it any easier for you to get through this. What I will say is, whatever you decide, if you do it from a place where it feels 'right' for you...then screw everyone else and what they think!
You do what YOU need to do for you!
And I'll be here, reading and supporting WHATEVER decision you make!
Take care of you~ Grace
Yeah, I hear you. It's always tough having to explain the scars to someone new.
On the bright side, glad you finally found a doctor!
*still new to this blogging thing* N-E is me, the keeper of the butterflies @ wordpress. words are just about the only thing i've got left. i grab my paper and pen and try to find a way out....at least to write my way to some answers.
Grace, are you trying to make me cry, lol. Thanks hun, really very much.
Bear- Yeah, that is a bright spot there, thanks for the reminder :D
Keeper- Boy do I understand the word thing, believe me. I also draw sometimes.
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