A 47-year-old goes to the Doctor.

The following is an absolutely true story.

I'm dying. I know it. I've resigned myself to that fact, and I'm doing my best to get through without complaining too much. I'm such a wonderful martyr.

I've known my death was coming for a couple of years now. In late November 2008, I got a flu shot. Two days after the shot, I knew something was wrong. I just didn't feel right. I had gone to one of those Quick Medical Clinic things that had opened up near my house. They were giving away free flu shots. So I figured....why not? I could not even pronounce the doctor's name there. But it was spelled something like Dr. Jflmyzhan. Right away, I should've been suspicious, because as soon as I walked in the door, the receptionist informed me that the doctor lived right down the street, (a.k.a. was a part time waiter at La Parrilla Mexican restaurant), and she would have to page him to come in. Ok, this is not good. But because it was free.... I got the shot. How annoying, by the way, if you were the doctor....to be called in to give a "free" flu shot? But with a name like Dr. Jflmyzhan....what do you expect? I think his medical license was printed out very nicely with the "Disney" font...showing people not to worry...he was a "fun" doctor.

So by February, I actually went in to see my regular doctor, with varying symptoms of pain. After a ridiculous amount of blood work, it was determined that I must go see a Rheumatologist. Shit. See? I'm dying. I knew it. So I go to the Rheumatologist....they do 127 blood tests and came up with nothing specific. That's what it will say on my grave. "She died of nothing specific". --- So, I just decided I would live with this pain, whatever it was. And I did. For two years.

Fast forward to March 2011. The last couple of weeks, I have had new pain symptoms. Oh, I forgot to mention that I also saw a Neurologist back in '09......he diagnosed me with Neuropathic pain, from the Shingles in '05. Ok, back to 2011. I've been having arm and shoulder pain, and excruciating headaches. So I go online, like any respectable person would who is dying. And it pretty much told me that I had Polymyalgia Rheumatica.......and I was dying. I'm pretty sure it said that right in the middle of the explanation of the disease. Great.....so here I have ignored my health for two years, and I really truly am dying now. Had I just continued to find out what was wrong back in '09, I probably would be able to live. But again, I effed everything up, and now, I'm definitely dying. Perfect.

So last night, I could not sleep. My arm literally felt like it was off the hinges. Does an arm have hinges? I don't know, but mine is off them. No matter how I held the arm, it hurt. If I laid on it, it hurt....if I didn't lay on it, it hurt. So, I thought I was probably having a heart attack. Then, I remembered it was my right arm. So maybe I wasn't having a heart attack. But maybe I was....who knows? I could not find any way to sleep comfortably. Even my head was hurting. Geez, this is it. This is it. It's happening.

Somehow, I made it through the night. But I was determined to go to the Urgent Care center this morning, as I was dying. So I walk in, and manage to walk to the reception desk and sign in. My arm weighed 240 lbs, so it was kind of tough. But I did it. They asked me what was wrong. I told them I was pretty sure I was dying. Oh, yes...and my arm hurts. So they kind of laughed, like they were trying to be polite, but they gave each other a look that said it all.... "This lady is nuts. Oh, and she's dying". So, they took me back to the room where they check your blood pressure and temp, and get all your symptoms. Well, the first thing that happened is that I blew up the blood pressure machine. This is true. The thing just fell apart when it took my blood pressure. That's it. It's a sign, I know it. But they took me to another machine, and this one worked just fine. After my 24 minute explanation of my symptoms, the nurse rushed me into a waiting room. It was waiting room #1, so I figured that was serious. They don't put just regular stuff into room #1. Room #1 is for REALLY BAD STUFF.

So I sat in that room dreading the arrival of the doctor. I mean, how do you tell a doctor you're dying? I decided the best tactic was just to be blunt. He's a doctor, after all...he can handle it. So he comes in, and asks what is wrong. I tell him I'm pretty sure I'm dying of Polymyalgia Rheumatica, because I've ignored it for 2 years, and now it's really here, and there's nothing we can do. He looks pained. And slightly annoyed. But just slightly. He looks at my arm, moves it around a bit, which was VERY PAINFUL, BY THE WAY. He says he doesn't think it's broken, but will take an X-ray just in case. He informs me that I have pretty good range of motion in my arm, though. Well, it hurt like hell him moving it around for that good range of motion. Glad to know that it will move.

So the nurse comes in and takes me to get X-rayed. She had me stand in various positions and hold my hand and arm different ways. I think this is an interesting thing to ask of a dying person. But I acquiesce....because that's what I do. I'm like Peter Frampton in that way... you know, I believe the lyrics go something like..... someone drops a cup and he submerges. Well.... I submerge as well. And in that song, I think his ears are ringing too..... I'm just like Peter Frampton in "Show Me the Way". Great. God, he looks terrible. Just like me. And he used to be cute! Oh well, at least I still have my hair.

But back to the doctor. So, they do the X-rays. And they send me to my room. I shouldn't have looked, but I saw one of the x-rays. There was a black spot on what appeared to be my rib cage. Probably a black spot on my lung, I thought. See? I knew I was dying. There's a spot on my lung. Thank GOD I came in here. They would've never known. So I wait for the inevitable news. The doctor comes in. He looks at me. I see it written all over his face. I see it. I feel for him, having to tell me this. It's Sunday, after all. So he says.... "well, there's absolutely nothing wrong with your arm". What do you mean? How can I be in such pain and there be nothing wrong? I have undiagnosed Polymyalgia Rheumatica! Wake up! So, this is the speech he gave me. Almost exactly:

Doctor: "How old are you?"

me: "47".... "I know...I'm old"

Doctor: "You're not that old"

me: "Right"

Doctor: "How long has it been since you've been in a gym?"

me: (really? we need to ask this?) "It's been forever"

Doctor: Go to a gym. Get some physical therapy. Build up your rotator cuff.

me: " ? "

Doctor: "You have no obvious signs of anything rheumatological going on. Check with your regular doctor, but in any case, get to the gym". "Work out".

me: "That's it"?

Doctor: "Yep. That's it." (and turns to walk out)


So...I sit there stunned. I mean, this doctor must be an idiot. Right? What the hell does he know anyway? I'm dying, dammit. He probably just didn't want to tell me. I can't blame him. Bless his heart. He's actually kind of nice. He's probably very religious, and didn't want to inform me of my death on a Sunday. That's so sweet. Maybe he's right, though. Maybe I'm NOT dying. I mean, he IS a doctor. I should trust him. Shouldn't I ? He WAS awfully young, though. And I could tell he works out. Probably one of those health nuts. That bastard. I'm sure he's wrong.

After some mental anguish, I decide that maybe just for today... or a week or so, I will attempt to believe him. But he'll see. He's gonna feel really stupid when I turn up dead. Of nothing specific.