Friday, July 27, 2012

Random Diagnosis

Let's just face facts...I should probably submit myself to medical science.  Is there such a thing?  I found a new doctor I love but I'd been putting off making an appointment (more on that later) until I was left no choice. 
Last week, I couldn't eat.  Literally.  Every time I did, I felt like food was stuck in my chest.  Let me tell you how good that felt. 
For someone who wants to lose weight, it's amazing.  For others...not so much.
Anyway, it was really more annoying than anything, until last Tuesday (it had been 3 days) when things just got painful.  I tried everything...Tums.  Maalox.  Zantac 75.  I even tried to make myself sick.  I'm happy to report my days as a bulimic are slim to none.  And I apologize if this is too much info.  But I believe in painting the whole picture because otherwise it's just not worth telling.  You're welcome. :o)
Anyway, I went to my Dr Wednesday morning.  I wanted to NOT schedule an appointment because she's my new doctor and I didn't want her to think I was high maintenence.  (Yeah, I can hear you laughing.)  But I went and even moved up my appointment because I was desperate.  I told her my symptoms and she diagnosed me with esophogeal spasms.
It's a real thing.
I know, because for a good 10 seconds, I looked at her like she was playing a joke on me and she assured me that this was, in fact, a real diagnosis.  I should know better than to look online for anything because I managed to convince myself I was suffering from esophagitis and possibly worse.  I also assumed I was going to need an endoscopy and did a happy dance when she told me "we didn't need to go there."  (It probably didn't help that I told her "I don't do cameras down my throat.")
ANYWAY, I'm here to tell you, esphogeal spasms are no joke.  And they do exist.  And no, no one in the medical profession can tell you what causes them.  (I'm going to guess stress does but unfortunately I'm not important enough to be in a medical journal.)
The moral of the story...if you feel like you have food in your chest, go to the doctor.  Do not look online.  And please, do not diagnose yourself.  It does NOT work.

PS-The reason I was avoiding the doctor...with a new doctor comes new paperwork.  I was fine until I got to the "emergency contact" part.  Not to insult my friends here, but who wants to be strapped with that responsibility?  My family lives out of state.  My best friend lives in Denver.  It's the lonliest feeling ever to not be able to put someone in that space.  So, instead of writing a name, I said, "I'll get back to you." 
How long until you think they call me for a real name?


  1. Um, put me. I will fly to Texas to be at your side in case of emergency. And in parentheses, maybe put Rachel, so she can hang out with you until I get there. I wonder if this is related to the issues Dad used to have with swallowing? Maybe it's hereditary - did you ask Mom about it?