I had a wonderful doctors' appointment yesterday. Wonderful enough that I must name names. Today I have to hand it to Dr. and Dr. Chelimsky, a husband and wife team who specialize in autonomic neurology and pediatric autonomic gastroenterology, respectively.
They listen. They are always respectful, never blaming patients for their own conditions. And they are bursting with good ideas: medications to try, treatment modalities, referrals to other helpful doctors.
The neurologist felt that the symptoms that scared me so this summer might be related to migraines, and I'm preparing to try the medication he recommended. I wasn't so thrilled about the idea of trying to raise my heart rate on purpose through vigorous exercise, but I'm willing to give it a try in a pool (as opposed to on dry land) where I feel pretty good, thanks to the weight of the water giving me and my ill-functioning veins and good all over squeeze.
I left the appointment filled with optimism. As opposed to other appointments, that I've left feeling defeated, or at worst, in tears.
Today I am 30, and I'm over being upset about it. Whatever else, it's simply going to be a different sort of life.