You Know Nothing, Jon Snow.

J and I have a description for the way medical professionals talk to me. We call it “Jon Snowing” me – they assume I know nothing. Yesterday I was getting bloods taken, because, despite having been tested for everything under the sun, they hadn’t actually done bloods to check for ovarian cancer. I told the nurse that whenever I get bloods done, blood spurts out and it bleeds quite a bit. She pretty much ignored me and just carried on. She seemed a bit surprised when my blood spurted out and went all over us both. Err, I did warn you, love.


Game of Thrones. I went to primary school with Ygritte (Rosie Leslie). Fangirl.

I know I’m not a doctor but I have 27 years’ experience in my own body. I perhaps can’t recall the exact side effects of every drug I’ve tried lately because there have been so many, but I do remember that I really, really tried them all and only stopped when I absolutely had to. I tell doctors that I sometimes get palpitations when I have a cold drink and they put it down to anxiety. Apparently I don’t know that I’m anxious while shovelling Wagamamas into my face, watching Hollyoaks, feeling pleasantly relaxed. To a doctor, it’s more feasible that I’m anxious (and don’t know it) as opposed to me having a health complaint that they can’t explain. This infuriates me.

Next Friday I finally have my rheumatology appointment. I’m nervous about this because I’ve been referred by a less than sympathetic GP who has probably omitted a lot from my referral based on the fact that he thinks I’m lying, I just hope that the rheumatology doctor has the gusto to think for himself and has some sort of idea about what might be wrong. I’m 90 percent sure that we’re looking at something hormone related but it could be caused by autoimmune issue. Luckily I have an appointment for some acupuncture a couple of days before which should help me chill out a bit. I’m not sure if it really helps my pain but it certainly gives me some sort of mental clarity so is maybe a good time to put together some notes for the rheumy.

Hopefully I don’t have cancer. Hopefully the rheumatologist will have some ideas. Hopefully my boobs stop feeling like they might explode, although J thinks they look great…


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