On top of IBS I liked have fibro. Fibro feels like that spent all day at the beach feeling – no not that salty sun-kissed feeling – that burnt to a crisp. Crap! ! I forgot sunscreen feeling and sometimes, like tonight, it has left me sweating like a whore in church.
I have found in my years with mysterious illnesses that the answers don’t usually come from the doctor or not the doctor that you expect. I have a little sister who thinks she knows everything and every once in awhile you have to give it to her simply because she’s right.
Well, doctors kept looking at me. Poking. Proding, Jamming. Stabbing. In the most professional way of course. But test after test kept coming back normal. And there’s my little sister, a college kid, being like – you have fibro. Tell the doctors I said you have fibro.
After my cardiologist evaluated me for POTS he started poking at me and prodding and finally said, “I think your little sister is on to something. He sent me to a rheumatologist that didn’t know his butt from his elbow and his anatomy really was about that good. As my mom says, “Someone always has to graduate at the bottom of the class.” Money is that it’s on him his year.
Anyway, I went back to my cardiologist who had been yelled at by my sister a few years back when he was caring for my mom – one of those times my sister insisted she knew better than doctors but didn’t. And I told him about my rheumatologist experience and he laughed, “Did your sister yell at him?”
I told him, “Well, no.”
And he said with a chuckle, “So I get yelled at for doing nothing wrong but he messes up and your sister doesn’t yell at him.”
I shook my head and said, “I don’t know doc. She’s a crazy one.”