The only relationship I'm in is with my bathroom, and it's complicated.

Before I complain about this, I have to preface this blog post with this sentence: I'm thankful my health problems can be fixed.

Now that that's out of the way, I'm going to complain now.

A few weeks ago, I met my mom, aunt and my nieces at the park after I had a doctor's appointment. I told my Mom the g-rated version of the story of my colon, the one that involved an ill-placed ulcer and a prolapse. 

Her response: "You know, your body could have picked a better place for that ulcer."

I KNOW RIGHT?

It turns out that my stupid health problem can be fixed with surgery, for which I'm very thankful for. This has been a long, long road. It started about a year ago.

That means over the past year, I've gone to seemingly dozens of doctor's appointments in southwest Kansas and in Wichita. I tried to tell doctors there was something wrong with me. I tried to tell them that hey, I can't eat solid food, and I think there's something really, really wrong with my body.

This is the point where I'm going to complain. Maybe I shouldn't, but this is my blog, and I can moan if I want to.

When you're a woman in your 30s, the first thing doctors think of when it comes to abdominal discomfort and pain is obviously pregnancy.

That's great and all, but I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant. I mean, I'm fairly certain, you know?

So when I proved I wasn't pregnant to various doctors, they came up with the next best explanation. 

Are you depressed? Stressed? Anxious?

If you just stop being those things, your symptoms will probably go away, they told me.

I take an antidepressant every day, and I'm sure the words ANXIOUS AS FUCK are written all over my medical records, probably on every page in bold cursive underlined font or something.

But depression or anxiety or stress doesn't explain the fact that there are times in my life where I've gone days and weeks without being able to eat solid food. 

The only relationship I'm in is with my bathroom, and it's complicated. (Pretty sure that doesn't cause pregnancy. I mean, I'm fairly certain.)

There is something wrong with my body. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I couldn't control it or fix it by myself. 

Yogurt is not the answer. Over the counter medicine is not the answer, nor is fiber or essential oils or acupuncture or having my gallbladder removed. 

I asked one doctor in town for a colonoscopy and for a referral to a GI specialist. He said no to a colonoscopy, and while he technically did not say no to a specialist, he just ignored my request.

Hey, guys. Guess what found my problem? A GI specialist who did a colonoscopy!

Yea, science and doctors who actually believe me!

While I'm thankful that I finally found a doctor's office in town and a specialist in Wichita who believed me enough to do something about it, I'm also really, really mad.

Like, fuming mad.

In my mind, I did everything right. I made a doctor's appointment when I didn't feel good. I explained the pain, when it started, where it was, and I talked to a whole lot of people about parts of my body that I really didn't want to talk about.

No one believed me. Everyone dismissed my symptoms, didn't follow up, and didn't bother to investigate further. 

Am I communicating with doctors wrong? Could I have done something different to find a solution faster?

The GI doctor I went to in Wichita was amazing. If I could go back and talk to him, I would probably tell him that I love him. 

He listened to everything I said. He believed me, and he told me that the way I was treated in western Kansas pissed him off.

Dude, I thought. You're preaching to the choir.

I guess the moral of this shitty story, if there is a one, is that there are good doctors in the world. They're hard to find, especially in this part of the world. 

But they do exist.

In the words of Dr. GI Specialist: "You have a medical problem that you need medical help for. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

Growl.

*Note: I'm pretty damn lucky and grateful that my problem isn't colon cancer. I don't even have polyps. I have one stupid part of my colon that, for whatever reason, malfunctioned, and can probably be surgically fixed. Asshole colon.