Repeat Diagnosis

*Continuance of “My Story” starting with Blog #1: When your life flashes before your eyes in a flood gate of memories…

I talked with my parents about the GI Specialist appointment recommendation.  I was adamant that I did not want to do this.  Again, I half heartedly agreed to see the specialist with ONE condition, that I would be making the end decision of what I wanted to do based upon the results of the initial appointment.  They agreed.

Two weeks later, Mom and I were walking into a specialty GI Clinic in Plymouth, MN.  As we walked in the medical office, once again the “I don’t like this feeling” was hitting me full force.  I told myself, One foot in front of the other.  I thought,  My feet feel like bricks.  Why am I here?  I was struggling.  I was fighting everything in me to bolt from the building, but I had made an agreement.  I intended on keeping it.  To me, my word was my word, and I would NOT break that.

After receiving and filling out my paperwork, it would be another 15 minutes before I was brought to an examination room.  In those 15 minutes I’d squirmed in my seat.  I battled built-up tears wanting to spill out.  I tried with everything in me to keep them at bay.  Mom looked at me, started speaking, and the tears tumbled out, one after the next.  I was an angry, hot mess.  However, I soon composed myself enough so that when my name was called I wasn’t such a mess.

I was asked more questions in the examination room.  I felt myself deflating with each question.  It wasn’t the person’s fault asking the questions, it was just me feeling suffocated.  I was having a hard time with all of this.  I just wanted to be done so I could be alone, by myself, to think and lay down, although riding in a vehicle for 4 hours made my left side all the worse with having to sit or semi sit/lay in the front seat.

After questioning, the GI Specialist walked in.  I looked up.  Introductions were made and then the questioning began again.  It seemed endless, but eventually she took my blood pressure, vitals, and palpated my abdomen.  As the Specialist palpated I was asked, “Kelly, is there any pain as I press?”

“Yes.”  I grimaced.  It actually hurt a lot.  When finished, I was told to go back to the chair I’d been sitting in.  I gladly retreated to the safety of it so as not to be touched again!

The Specialist started talking, stating, “You probably just have a bad case of IBS(Irritable Bowel Syndrome).”  I literally couldn’t believe what I was being told.  “We can do an Endoscopy, though.  There are other options, a Colonoscopy, a Sigmoidoscopy, a MRI, and other ways of testing that we can utilize if need be.  We can start with an Endoscopy to see if you have a rip, an ulcer, or something else in your stomach or upper GI tract.”  The Specialist then told me, “If you decide to do the Endoscopy, I’m scheduled about a month out.  If you’re looking for a certain day, you might have to schedule out longer than a month.”

Mom looked at me.  I just sat looking at her.  I was still stunned about being labeled IBS.  Flashbacks of the MD in September of 2010, when I first went in for my left side pain and being labeled IBS, were hitting me.  I’m now, again, being labeled IBS?  It’s as if they don’t think there’s a more relevant problem.  I was numb to the conversation Mom and the Specialist were now having.

The Specialist left the room and I was immediately led to the scheduling area.  My head was spinning.  Everything was a blur.  The Specialist didn’t listen to what I told her.  She just labeled me, instead, with IBS.  

Mom and I sat down in chairs at one of the scheduling desk.  “When are you looking to have an appointment?” the Scheduler inquired.  I didn’t answer, so Mom picked a date.  I wasn’t comfortable with scheduling a date.  We hadn’t even discussed it yet, so I just listened.  At this point I was ready to cry.  With everything ounce of energy left in me, I used it to withhold those tears at least until we were out of the building.  Those were a long 10 minutes.

We walked outside, and once we closed the car doors I let out the building thoughts.  “An Endoscopy!?!  REALLY?  Mom, I don’t like that idea of getting an Endoscopy.  It doesn’t feel right for me.”

“Well, it would be good to see what’s going on in your abdomen, Kelly.  You haven’t had any tests done like this before, so it would be helpful.”  Mom retorted.  I was steaming, a pot that had already started boiling over.  “They would be able to see if there’s a rip in your colon, perhaps detect cancer, or an ulcer,”  She stated.

Her statement wasn’t convincing me that this test was a good idea. “Yes, that’s true.  You know, they could end up perforating my throat sticking that device down there.  I’d REALLY be in pain then.”  I smarted.

We didn’t debate anymore.  Rather, we discussed and then decided to pray about the possible upcoming Endoscopy appointment.

Once home later that day, we talked with Dad, who knew only about the conventional medical route as do most people.  He voiced his thoughts about the Endoscopy, that I should have it done.  After the conversation, we didn’t talk about the appointment for a couple days.

JE  November 14th, 2013

Doctors, again, have no idea what is going on in my body.  They want to do more tests, first the Endoscopy and also a Sigmoidoscopy.  I’m not looking forward to this at all.  I’m a hurting unit, Lord, and I don’t know what’s going on deep inside my body, but you do.  I pray if you want me to do these tests, that you would make it known to me.  Somedays the devil is certainly trying to take me down.  Please help my Father.  I trust you.

As I’ve said before, my left side pain and other symptoms were worse than ever before those many months during the Fall of 2013.  As for Medical Doctors, I just didn’t trust their “procedures”.  In the end, my parents and I agreed that I wouldn’t be doing the Endoscopy.  It was MY choice.  (With ALL due respect to my parents, their genuine love and concern was real and powerful, just like most parents that watch one of their children struggling.)

I knew deep in my heart that the Endoscopy wasn’t what I was supposed to have done.  Mom cancelled my appointment.  I continued to have bad days, and continued seeing Dr. R.  I focused on taking each day as it came and making the best of it.

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