The Good Doctor

I consider myself a good judge of character when it comes to doctors, seeing as how I've been to so many of them. Neurologists, cardiologists, psychiatrists, family practitioners, gastroenterologists, allergists: I've seen 'em all. Each time I go I have to brace myself for one of three responses.

There's the arrogant guffaw, head shake, and good ol' boy slap on the back while hearing, "Three kids would make anyone tired!"

There's the confused murmur, head shake, and pat on the back while hearing, "You do seem to have the symptoms of (insert name of idiotic new development), but your tests all came back normal."

Then there's the distracted dismissal, head shake, and scribble scribble scribble on their prescription pad, and, "Trythisseeifithelpsgoodluck." Then out the door. Love that one.

There have been a few shining gems in the bunch, however, like my family practitioner who always brings in a medical student because I have such a huge collection of symptoms, my cardiologist who actually listens, then vows to do every test she can think of (she actually found the Lyme), and a nurse at her office who stopped her pre-exam while I rattled off my symptoms yet again to place her hand over mine and say, "Don't give up. They may not know what it is now, but they'll figure it out." Moments with these people who actually cared almost make up for the horrors of my past medical life, and it is those moments that kept me vigilant when I had all but accepted that I must be crazy. At my first post-Lyme diagnosis appointment with my family doctor he went over every symptom I'd ever come to him with for the past seven years and it was like a 21 gun salute of validation. I went to the car and cried (I hadn't remembered telling him all that stuff, damned memory loss) and realized I have lost so much to being ill. I'd been in denial that everything I'd experienced could be attributed to the Lyme, but it had been laid out in front of me and I could no longer look away. I vowed not to lose another minute to a doctor who didn't care, didn't know, or didn't have the time to put me on the path I needed to take to get well again.

I recognize that I am lucky in so many ways when it comes to this disease. I tested positive on both the ELISA and Western Blot tests, which many Lyme patients do not do. I found a Lyme doctor near my house that was inexpensive in comparison with others elsewhere, and he was able to see me right away. I can still walk, talk, and get things done (on most days) and have fewer complications than some. And I know what I need to do to overcome this, or at least to keep trying.

On the 26th I walked into my new doctor's office, the beginning of an appointment that was to last about two hours. I told him all of my symptoms (at least the ones I could remember), asked questions, got a list of tests he wanted done, and introduced him to my whole family. He used to be a general practitioner at a busy walk-in clinic, but opened his own practice mostly dedicated to the treatment of Lyme. He is one of only a few doctors in the state of Kansas still treating this illness. He has certifications, accreditations, and a great background. Many of his family members have had Lyme, and with proper treatment became well again. After so many doctors, so many tests, and so much uncertainty, I can only describe it as bittersweet to walk into an appointment and feel those in the room know you already. So there was only relief when he said, "Look at this list of symptoms and you'll see you have all of the typical signs. We can start a treatment that won't cost too much, will make a big improvement in your condition and shouldn't take long to get going, if you agree you want to do this."

Was there any other option than to say yes?