Tummy time.

A guy in medical scrubs sat across the room from me and asked me a question I knew was coming.

"What happened recently that made you come see me?"

I told him it was a long story, and I told him I was going to start from the beginning.

The beginning is a good place to start, he said.

So I started talking. I sat in a little room and told a total stranger everything, from the first doctor's appointment I made, to the changing symptoms I had, to another doctor I went to, to the grumpy surgeon I went to.

I told him all of the gory details, matter of factly.

I told him about some new symptoms I've been having. I told him about the medicine that I was taking, and about how it helps with the most obvious symptom, but that it doesn't really help with the pain.

He stopped me in the middle of the story.

Apparently the medicine I'm taking isn't supposed to help with the pain. As in, that's not at all what it's made for.

Dude, no one ever told me that! I had a pages-long document written out on my phone detailing the pain I felt, because all this time I've thought I was a freak of nature that medicine didn't work on.

I asked him if my symptoms were normal. He said yes, every single one of them is run of the mill, you can't get more normal than that, normal.

He said the way that I've felt, the way that doctor's offices have made me feel*, "pisses him off."

Then he went back to his original question: What happened recently that made you come here?

Again, I told him all the gory details. In October, I just gave up eating solid food. I lost a pound a day for two weeks. I got shuffled around doctor's offices, and then I struggled to find a pharmacist who would help me.

He told me to look up this thing called post-infection IBS.

He also told me to not even bother with certain questions as to why I have this or why my body suddenly decided to go to war with me.

You will never know those answers, he told me.

Well, great! I love it when things happen to me that I can't control!

He also said it's likely IBS, but we need to run some tests to rule out other things. Those other things are scary: Crohn's, colitis and cancer.

Jesus, doctor. Way to throw three "C" words at me at once.

He said he expects the tests to come back fine, just as all of my other tests have come back fine. And when that happens, we'll meet again and come up with a plan of action.

He also said a few things that he probably didn't have to say, but I think he knew I needed to hear them.

He said that I was intelligent and educated, and that I needed to be healthy enough to work every day. Staying home for a week or two in pain and misery is not an option, he said.

The paperwork I had to fill out for this appointment was kind of ridiculous. They asked about recent dental work, whether I see an optometrist on a regular basis, what my education level is, and my mode of transportation.

...I guess they see all kind of people and can't take any of that for granted.

And for the record, yes, I receive dental and eye care. Go me. Apparently not everyone does.

Anyway, I pushed the appointment back for those tests until March. Until then, I have to find out what food groups work for me and which ones don't.

Today, for the first time since October, I only took one Really Expensive Pill. Eventually, I would like to try to not take them and save them for emergencies, much like last October was for me.

Peppermint tea seems to work well for me. This morning, I woke up happy and I woke up early. I don't even remember the last time that happened! My stomach was fine and for once, wasn't dictating my life.

Sweet!

So yes, Mr. Specialist, something did happen recently that made me come see you.

I'm relieved that someone believes me, and I'm thankful that someone is willing to do tests to rule out something more serious. Because, when something serious happens to you, your mind automatically goes to the worse case scenario.

He told me that's normal, and even he does that. He told me to not ever let anyone tell me that this is in my head, or just due to stress.

It's a medical condition that you need medical help for, he said. He said to not ever let anyone tell me otherwise.

(Dude, where were you six months ago? And ps, I kind of love you.)

Oh, that brings me to another thing he said. If it is "just" IBS, there's one good thing. I raised my eyebrows up, practically to the ceiling, and looked at him that he had 17 heads, a reaction which he picked up on immediately.

IBS is miserable, he says, and yes, it can get so bad that all you do literally all day is stuff you don't want to talk about on thishereblogpost.

But the good thing, he said, is that there are no medical complications from it. You can get an abscess from Crohn's or colitis. Diverticulitis can kill you.

But IBS? The most severe thing it does is irritate you.

Well, body, I'm irritated. And once I rule out those three "C" words, I'm going to figure out a way to fix it.

*I'm aware that anxiety might be talking here. Still, I think doctors in Hometown could have done a little more for me.