I am a medical wonder. No really, tis true.
A little back story for you. I hate going to doctors. In fact, I might even go as far as saying that I do not believe in doctors. Not in the sense that I believe that doctors are mythical beings, I merely doubt their abilities. Why, you may be asking? It all boils down to a few years ago when I was sick. And I mean really sick. For a span of about 6 months I threw up every single day, sometimes up to 4 times each day. I woke up nauseous, struggled through the day queasy, and then went to bed even more nauseous. Life was pretty terrible all around during that time. So I, like a rational adult, thought to myself “Hey Trace”—yeah, I call myself Trace— “Trace, I believe that something might possibly be wrong. Perhaps a human being should not be sick and unable to keep anything down for such an extremely long amount of time.” My inner monologue is very wise.
So I took myself to the doctor, foolishly assuming that such extensively trained individuals would be able to help. Oh silly girl.
The doctor, ever eager to calm the nervous and hurting patient, immediately said: “Well, we should probably schedule you for a cat scan because it could be a brain tumor.”
Strike one.
Now, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but maybe if somebody comes to you with a rumbly tummy don’t speculate that they have a life threatening condition. When a kid comes to you with a stubbed toe do you tell them you are going to amputate? Maybe Med school should have an extra semester with the courses “What Not To Say” and “Don’t Be A Prick”. I volunteer to teach both.
My lovely doctor then went on to tell me over and over that I was probably just pregnant.
Strike two.
Again, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but here we go anyways. Let’s break this down into a word problem: If Tracy has been nauseous for 6 months, and pregnancies only last for 9 months, why do you not see proof of a baby?
Did you solve it? Make sure to show your work. I couldn’t keep food down and at one point I stopped eating all together to ease the problem so I was pretty freaking tiny. Yet this medically trained individual was insistent that ‘hey, maybe it’s still possible despite all common sense’. Finally, I shot up from the awkward paper covered bed and looked him straight in the eye and screamed “Chief, there are some steps between here and pregnant that aren’t going down. The goal is in place. I am not lying to you. If I knew what the problem was I would tell you. Move along to the next option.”
The next option was wait and see.
Strike three.
The moral of the story dear reader is that in 8+ years of medical school they don’t cover how to treat nausea. Major invasive surgery, yeah they learn that. But upset stomach, it’s a constant struggle. Where is the plastic wristband for living with that?
My faith in the medical profession died that day, but from the ashes a medical marvel was born. Her name: Dr Tracy. Equipped with WebMD and wild speculations there is no ailment she cannot treat!
For many years after I diagnosed my nausea problem (which by the way was vertigo…which the doctors should have suspected given the chronic ear infections and subsequent inner ear damage I had as a child), Dr Tracy’s services were not used regularly. Still her skills remained strong, waiting for the time when she would be needed.
That time came recently. A bump appeared. Not too alarming at first. It could have been a bite or a calcium deposit. However, the bump did not go away. And the placement was unsettling, for it rested on top of my hand, on the bone in the center of my hand. My first thought was obviously hand cancer, which is the silent killer. But I consulted a second opinion in Dr Tracy.
She was concerned, of course. She decided to give the intruding lump a brief amount of time to withdraw of its own accord, for she is a fair and kind physician. However, the protrusion remained. And the most unsettling thing about this new malady was that since it was attached to the bones and/or veins in my hand, it looked like it was moving. It looked EXACTLY like those beetles in the movie The Mummy that burrowed under your skin and crawled.
Yeah, good luck sleeping now!
When this creepy moving bump became too much for my easily unhinged-cringe factor to manage I moved on to a more proactive approach. And by this of course I mean I pushed on it really hard, hoping to force it back in. Oooooh, this angered it! The bump grew in size, now looking like a small marble under my skin. A small, roaming, diseased marble that lived in my hand.
The bump and I coexisted for another few weeks before I again consulted with Dr Tracy. She decided that before we reviewed our treatment options we needed to identify exactly what it was.
Hypothesis #1: All of the anxiety and anger I keep inside had in fact turned into an ulcer and it was in my hand. However, we dismissed this as ridiculous because I’ve never kept any frustrations in.
Hypothesis #2: I have an extra finger in my hand, but it grew in the wrong spot.
Hypothesis #3: My body is literally exploding with awesome and I am simply unable to keep it all contained.
Hypothesis #4: I had a twin sister who I absorbed in the womb. We decided this was the most likely option, and so we named the bump Judith out of respect. Judith was pleased.
So I say ALL of that to bring us back to my original point. I am a medical wonder!!! At a party last week I was showing off the horrendous bump of Judith to my friend who is in med school. I was also stretching my hand to show off the creepy way it looked like she was moving, to the horror and delight of the other people there. And friends, the next morning she was gone! The bump was gone! I shamed it away!!! Friends, I actually humiliated my own malady to the point that my body healed itself. I told Judith that she was getting fat and she went away forver!
Ailment shaming!!! Feel free to come to me with your strange injuries or medical questions, and I will happily rain insults and snarky comments until the healing begins.
So I don’t want to OFFICIALLY put my name in for any medical awards, but I would also not shun such awards were people to nominate my work. Ailment Shaming—it’s gonna to be a thing!
***Disclaimer: Dr Tracy and her affiliates are not responsible either legally or monetarily for lack of results***
for a rainy day 