As any doctor can tell you, the most crucial step toward healing is having the right diagnosis. If the disease is precisely identified, a good resolution is far more likely. Conversely, a bad diagnosis usually means a bad outcome, no matter how skilled the physician. -- Andrew Weil
I will be honest. I hate doctors. I wanted to be a doctor, but I'm not -- and so I probably act out my frustration at my career redirection (after failing organic chemistry twice) on the whole medical profession.
But after nearly 3 weeks of not feeling myself after what is now known as "The Great Hypothermia Adventure," we decided it was time to seek some medical help. I was cold, even in sunny San Diego. I was tired, to the point of falling asleep while driving or in church or in my office. I was sluggish when I was awake and I mostly just wanted to sleep. And it wasn't depression rearing its ugly head -- been there, done that, and none of the other symptoms of depression were present. I'm eating well, not craving sugar, and Iron Sherpa and I are planning spring marathons for next year. No - this is not depression. So what the hell was wrong with me? Time to visit the doctor.
I went to my primary care this past Monday and told him my symptoms. He pointed out that I've gained weight since I saw him 3 years ago. (Well, yeah - I'll admit, I've packed on some baggage after the stress fracture at Louisville, but I'm working on it now.) And then he decided that my symptoms were either seasonal allergies or sleep apnea. WTH? Did he even listen to me? All of the symptoms came on immediately post a stressful event. I've never had seasonal allergies in my life, nor do I have any other allergy symptoms. And sleep apnea? Are you kidding me? Most of the old men in my life travel with their handy, dandy little CPAP machines. I, on the other hand, don't snore unless I have a cold and Iron Sherpa is such a light sleeper, he would be the first to diagnose sleep apnea. He ordered a few basic blood tests, but I went home and decided my primary care doc is a quack. And I kept trying to do my own research.
One of the reasons I went to the doc in the first place is because I couldn't find any information about how long it takes to recover from hypothermia. Lots of information on acute care, but no information on long-term recovery (unless you die, then there's no recovery). After the doctor gave me nothing to work with, I started instead researching symptoms rather than diagnoses. Unfortunately the disease that seems to fit me best -- adrenal fatigue -- is also considered a disease of quackery. So, which quack do I believe?
The good news is that I'm starting to feel a little better, but it's coming at the expense of the rest of my life. Rest is the best cure, it seems, for what I have (pointing again to adrenal fatigue - that disease that doesn't exist). I've mostly kept up with my training, but for a very strong fear of getting cold - so that's good. 8 weeks to Raleigh. 6 months to IM Maryland. Quack! Quack! Quack!
No comments:
Post a Comment