For over 15 years I've been in and out of so many different therapists and psychiatrists offices for one problem after another I'd been working on, that when it comes time to go to see a medical doctor, I tend to avoid it.
Over the last three or four years, there have been several things I’ve noticed about myself that are…different. LZ says I should go to the doc and have them checked out, but I always blow her off. A constant eight month cough, a lump, a pain in the kidney area of my back, etc., etc., etc. The list goes on of things I have questions about. But….Do I really want to know it’s some sort of a chest infection? Do I really want to know it’s breast cancer? Do I really want to know it’s a kidney problem? No. I don’t. If I’m going to die from something, just please let me go. I can not afford to take time off for surgeries. I can not afford to spend endless amounts of money on prescriptions or treatments that might work.
Don’t get me wrong, if I was to break a bone, develop a bladder infection so painful I couldn’t pee, or even suddenly started losing hair one clump at a time, I would totally be knocking down the office doors of my doctor. But until such time, I’ll continue to wonder what might happen. And then maybe blog about it. :-)