You know how when you're watching House and the patients and families of the patient are being all crybaby-ish because Dr. House is such a "jerk"? And you're thinking, "Oh wah! Cmon, it's HOUSE!" Or if you're a woman you're probably thinking, "Oh wah! Cmon, it's HUGH LAURIE!" And you think there's no way you'd be so lame as to be offended by his charming, misunderstood brand of humor.
Well it turns out that if you really are bleeding out of your pores or you've suffered a stroke, liver cancer, sarcoidosis, lupus, leukemia, rocky mountain spotted fever, and the black plague all in the first half of an episode, you're not really going to be that amused.
But I was freaking out just a bit because a painful and swollen golf ball thing had appeared in an area that I thought represented an ovary. (Googlenosis again, I know.) It had been sore for three days, and yesterday I'd noticed the swelling and it hurt to put on jeans/bend over/stand up/allow a small child to knee you as hard as possible in said ovary area.
I don't know why I got so hysterical, maybe it was because I watch too much House. I was picturing myself in one of those giant scanning machines, and it would turn out that the painful growth was actually some sort of metal object that had become mysteriously implanted without my knowledge, and it would become magnetized and rip out of my body. And then my heart would stop but the doctors would use those shock paddle thingies while I was still conscious, and I would catch on fire. And then my eyeballs would bleed, and they would tell me I was really born a man. It really happened. In this one episode.
Ok, back to reality.
So I go to the emergency room last night, and all the nurses who did the preliminary examinations confirmed that yes, that is really odd and something was definitely not right. And then this gross truck stop cashier lady comes in dressed as a doctor.
Ok no offense against truck stop cashiers, I'm sure there are some very nice ones and very nice looking ones out there, but that is the image this lady immediately conjured up. Maybe it was her rats nest hair, or her disgusting teeth, or her raspy phlegm-y chain-smokers voice, or her constant bovine-ish gum chomping. *Shudder*
This horrid creature parading as a doctor poked at my growth and chastised me for jerking away and squealing in pain.
"Aw, it's just a lymph node!" The creature exclaimed in disbelief and slight amusement.
I waited for some kind of explanation. She just stared at me, like, why am I here in her hospital wasting her precious smoking break time? She asked me if I had noticed anything odd, "down there," and I said no, I'm on my period, and she said, "Oh well that's why! All kinds of things are swollen and sore down there that week!" As if this is something completely normal and not terrifying and how stupid could I be to not have figured that out on my own.
I said, "Well I was just a little upset because I thought it was my ovary or something." She jabbed at a spot slightly above and to the right of my belly button.
"Naw, them's your ovaries!"
Riiight.... I think next time I'll stick to Google?
I asked her what I should do now, since she offered no real diagnosis or further instructions. She said if it happens again then I should get it checked out. Ummmm.... that's why I'm here?
"I'll get the nurse to give you some Motrin." And then she left.
I admit, I got a little hysterical. I didn't want her stinky old Motrin for which I will later be billed $30 per pill. But I had the next 45 minutes to cool down, since nobody appeared with the magic Motrin cure. So I got dressed and told the ladies at the nurse station that I was leaving. They said I couldn't because the doctor had to write some things on my chart.
I really wasn't surprised that it was taking that woman 45 minutes to write down, "Aint nothin wrong with her." But I went back to my room and worked on some embroidery.
After a while the nurse came in with some pills and said, "Ok here's your treatment and prescriptions!" I'm like, what?? I thought there was nothing wrong with me!
Maybe the truck stop lady was an intern or something, and the real doctor decided that real medicine was needed. Apparently the growth is an infected lymph node and now I have antibiotics.
My favorite Calvin cartoon, well worth clicking to enlarge