We Are Open for Dialogue

First, my thanks to all of you who left such wonderful comments on my last ranting post.  I am so blessed to have wonderful Blog Friends; what would I do without you?  I don't want to know!  I so appreciated all your experiences with statins and encouragement to stick to my guns.  Do you want to know how it went?  Well, here goes:

After worrying all day long, finally it was time to leave for the appointment scheduled for 3:20PM.  I usually try to make my doctor appointments early in the day so I don't have to waste a day obsessing, but Carl wanted to come along with me, so I scheduled it for as late as possible.  I cannot tell you how much I appreciate having Carl with me.  I am a nervous person (no, you'd never guess it, would you??) and having him there gives me the courage and support I need.  Especially lately; when I get overwrought I sometimes don't remember what the doctor said and then I forget to ask questions. And in the case of my former doctor, it was a relief to have Carl with me for two of the visits with her so he could see for himself what it was like.  He provided me with assurance I wasn't losing my mind or being overly sensitive. He agreed, she was truly an 'ursus maritimus' to the Nth degree (that's Latin for polar bear, lol) 

I need to learn to bloom even when I'm between a rock and a hard place.

More than you wanted to know yet again, but I have a problem with angry authority figures.   I grew up with a troubled father and can sense hostility a mile away.  Sometimes the lessons we learn in childhood serve us very well in adulthood, sometimes not.  As a consequence of living with an angry father, I learned early on to stuff my emotions as a protective measure against harm, and take what was dished out without saying a word, or God forbid, dissolving into tears.  I became a chameleon, changing my personality to fit what an inebriated adult wanted me to be, but it was no way to live, especially for a young child.  And repression is also a very unhealthy way to deal with intense emotions, because in the end, it will come out somewhere, somehow, very often in the form of depression.  I read years ago that depression was really just repressed anger.   

Repressed anger.  As if my anger needed any more pressing.  As a child I had no recourse, no choice, stuff the anger down or suffer the consequences.  I was too scared to even think of what the consequences would be having seen what could happen, so I gladly signed up for the People Pleaser's Stuffing Class, and that served me well, right up until my 30's when it all fell apart along with my thyroid.  Guess what?  It turns out a person can't stuff things down forever, there is a limit.


But when I'm confronted by a hostile person, let alone a doctor, my first go-to self-preservation reaction is to be a people-pleaser or at the very least, minimize the damage by vacating the area, often at the expense of my dignity.   I can't tell you how many times someone has literally stepped on my toes and I was the one apologizing to them because my toes were in the way.  Lessons from the distant past; I was around seven years old and holding a board for my father who was nailing something up in the barn and he missed and hit my hand instead.  The tears started to flow, but were halted immediately by his stern, "If your stupid hand wasn't there in the first place it wouldn't have gotten hit."  It was all my fault, I readily agreed and sucked it up.  I had to get tough.  But darn, it hurt.

I am now 53 years old and I have finally found a voice.  My old survival skills served me well way back when, but not any more.  When I was a kid, I lost myself in books, I read books like there was no tomorrow.  I could open a book and be lost in another place, another time, away from the chaos going on around me.  I was like that little kid named Brick on the TV show 'In the Middle' who adores library books and whispers to himself.  The public library was a haven, I loved the smell of that place.  Books and keeping a journal of my own saved my sanity.  I kept all my old diaries and sometimes I'll crack one open for old time's sake.  I haven't changed much, but that's gonna have to stop.

Maybe it is menopause, or maybe it's the realization that I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore (remember the movie 'Network'?) but in any event, I'm not as doormat-ish as I used to be, and I work hard at not going back to my old, 'It's OK, feel free to step on my toes' ways.  I gave myself a pep talk last night and bolstered by all the comments from my friends, I took a deep breath, steadied my nerves and got ready to meet the new doctor.

Talk about a difference!  She was such a refreshing change from ol' Ursus Maritimus.  I felt actual Mutual Respect for my opinions and concern for my feelings coming from her.  We discussed the thyroid and the statin problems and she agreed that the drug has had reports of causing muscle pain and weight gain.  "I am open for dialogue," she said when I asked what we could do to minimize the pain, "I will work with you to find another med or way to alleviate the pain."  She wasn't on board with doubting the efficacy of statin usage, though, but if I get my joints and muscles back in shape, maybe I can lose the excess weight and not need a statin anymore at all!  (Ok, so I can dream, can't I?)


I was sent for labwork and will hear results soon.  

I don't know if this doctor will be the perfect fit after only one visit, but Carl and I both came away with a very good first impression. 

She didn't demean me or tell me to increase my daily walk to 20 to 25 miles.  (Like the Polar Bear MD)
She didn't rant and rave about my weight.  (I did.)  
She didn't tell me to stop gardening.  (Like that would happen.)



She is 'Open for Dialogue.'  


Wonders never cease.




P.S. Thank you again, everyone.  You are all such blessings to me!