Bornfamous

[WARNING: BORING MEDICAL DETAILS AHEAD]

I finally called the doctor and made an appointment a couple of weeks ago, after scaring myself at the post office. Nothing big, I just had a sudden, raging thirst and absolutely KNEW that I had to get home for a drink of water IMMEDIATELY.

I suppose I could have stopped and bought a bottle somewhere, but it was the intensity that frightened me. Constant, urgent thirst is one of the symptoms of diabetes, which runs through my family like the Mississippi–long, wide and deep. My grandfather went blind from it. My parents both died of it. My sister had to have a triple bypass because of it. And they weren’t the only ones–my turn has to be next.

I’ve dodged the bullet all these years in spite of my addiction to carbohydrates, aversion to exercise and resulting balloon body–make that LEAD balloon body. But I knew my luck was running out. For one thing, I am thirsty ALL THE TIME. A lot of my overeating is a misplaced attempt to quench thirst, because water just doesn’t do it most of the time. [I finally gave up a lifelong addiction to cola a year-and-a-half ago--talk about WITHDRAWAL: if Diet Coke is that hard to quit, I am blown away by folks who kick, and stay off harder stuff.]

Someone once told me that mistaking thirst for hunger is a common theme among us compulsive overeaters, so I’m not alone–but at what point does thirst constitute a symptom of something else? I didn’t know. I just had to get home and guzzle half a gallon of water. Then I dialed the phone.

Since then, I’ve seen Dr. Carr twice and have to schedule appointments for a mammographer, a urologist, a gynecologist and a gastroenterologist, but I do not have diabetes. Not yet. So that’s good. But there are definitely some things wrong in here that need taking care of. Can’t put it off any longer.

Did I mention that I hate going to doctors?

First, there’s the bill. I belong to the school of liberal thought that believes quality medical care should be available to everyone for free–especially me, since I am chronically poor. I have insurance but the co-pay can be daunting, so I tend to procrastinate until whatever’s bothering me hurts like hell.

Then there’s my upbringing. My mother was a Christian Scientist. I never saw a physician until I was 19 and five months pregnant. I lived through colds, flu, measles and a couple of dangerous sunburns with nothing more than cold compresses and prayers. I gave up the prayers a long time ago, but cold compresses, hot poultices and a few herbal remedies usually keep me going without medical intervention.

Except I’m not going anymore. I’m just sitting here, calcifying in my desk chair. And it hurts. Oh yes–and I’m thirsty.

So I went to see Dr. Carr. She was warm and relaxed, reassuring but firm, reminding me of the other reason I avoid doctors: they’re usually male. Nothing wrong with that but I have this problem with male authority figures. They piss me off. I get all rebellious when a man-doc tells me what to do, and I don’t do it. Or I never go back to him for followups. Not good. But Dr. Carr? I’m sure it has more to do with her personality than her gender, but I think I would roll over and bark if she asked me to. Or purr.

I won’t give you the gory details, but let’s just say that my health problems tend to focus on the digestive system–no surprise, considering how I’ve abused it over the years. Dr. Carr ordered me to start detoxing by drinking a lemon/water/milk thistle mixture first thing every morning, and taking a daily saltwater bath [and work up to 25 POUNDS of salt in each bath! I'm up to about 15 at this point!] She also suggested colonics. Not sure I’m ready for that.

More important to me was that she prescribed weekly visits to the nutritionist–covered by my insurance, thank heavens. Sharon, who used to work for the famous Dr. Gerson, wants me to do coffee enemas. Um, maybe later. I’ve seen Sharon twice now, and I’m finally getting a handle on my diet with her help–I’m even doing yoga and meditating again. I actually feel myself believing I might lose all this weight, look good again–oh yes, and get my health back.

That would be sooo nice.