Why I Am Not Going Back to The Doctor

I kinda left y’all hanging… My last visit to the doctor was so brutal that I could not even write about it. I can recall every detail and every word exchanged. I choose to spare myself and you the nitty gritty of it all.

In essence, I had a great surgeon but her rapport with a conscious, empowered patient with a history of trauma (me) did not go so well. I had a full spin out as she did a biopsy in her office without any warning. I am like a scared dog at the veterinary office, unpredictable and running on pure instinct. This is something I should be put under for.

In the middle of it, I was in full fight or flight mode. I survived. I did not hurt anyone. But it was not an easy experience for me or them. The biopsy came back negative for cancer. After the procedure, I shut down and needed to take some time to heal before I even shared the experience with anyone. I could not even verbalize the experience for my husband for a few days.

The best thing to come of it is that I promised myself six months off from all medical doctors. I have not let anyone stick or poke or prod or scan me in two months. I will not be seeing that doctor again. She’s been disqualified from being able to care for me. It may sound like it’s not the best decision but it has given my mind and body a chance to regroup. I am feeling better.

Eight months of cancer, surgeries, medical trauma, loss of three beautiful, nonvital internal organs, surgical wounds, abrupt surgical menopause, worrying about my muscles and bones, and seeking hormonal balance… I think I deserve a break. I need this time to pull away and not allow cancer and my survivorship to be a part of my every day or part of my identity. I’ll pick up where I left off with my medical care when November rolls around.



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