It’s Time to Start Taking Care of Yourself
How I regained control of my life, found a doctor who hates me, and might live a few years longer
For 15 years, I left my mortality up to Chance, and I don’t mean the rapper. I mean, whatever it is that when you’re on the brink of survival, decides if you live or die. For some reason, I trusted her? Trusted him? I trusted they/them (Chance never told me how they identified) enough to give them control of my life anywhere from 1 to 7 times a week. That’s how often I was blacking out when I was training year-round for the Alcoholic’s Olympics that I hadn’t (yet) been invited to.
During this 15 year stint, I was too worried about letting Chance down to care about my body. I didn’t want to disappoint them by taking back control of my life. I figured getting a proper assessment of the damage I was doing would be a cardinal sin, so I kept ignoring the nag at the back of my brain that was screaming for me to change my lifestyle and find a doctor.
I was able to silence these screams for the better part of 15 years. During this period, I checked in to walk-in clinics for minor illnesses, but there were two times where Chance sent me to the ER. Chance, how could you let this happen to me? My trust in Chance had begun to wane. It took a few more years for my trust to break with them completely, but after getting sober at the end of 2019, I decided it was time to regain control over my life, sorry Chance — this is the end.
It was time to do some preventative maintenance on my body, seeing how I chose to live with whatever could have been prevented by seeing a doctor all those years ago. Let us call it reactive maintenance instead.
After doing some research, I had an appointment set for July of 2020 and was finally going to face the consequences of my physical neglect. And then Covid happened.
I remember reading an article about how Huanggang, a city near Wuhan, China, went into lockdown, but thousands of people fled the city before it could take effect. After reading this article, I knew it would only be a matter of time before seeing cases, especially if it was as contagious as the scientists were worried about it being. This was near the end of January, almost two months before we started seeing our cases rise, and I was already beginning to worry.
Getting to the Doctor
I watched the number of cases like a hawk as my appointment was nearing. The Florida cases in May of 2020 were gradually making their way towards 1,000 per day, but in early June, they started taking off. By the end of June, they were nearing 10,000 per day, and on July 12th, we set a record of 15,300 cases in a single day.
My appointment was scheduled around a week after that record was set, and I felt it necessary to push it back as I didn’t feel comfortable going in with a novel virus running rampant. What was supposed to happen in late July ended up happening in late December.
December rolled around, and I couldn’t stand putting it off any longer. Students make up most residents in my town, and they were all away for winter break. I told myself it was now or never. Months later than originally intended, I was heading to the doctor.
As you know, I hadn’t been to a doctor in 15 years. I had no idea where to start, so I figured why not start with a physical exam. It seems like a logical thing to do, right? So that’s what I did.
The day finally came. I opened the doors to the doctor’s office and felt like it was my first day at a new school, and I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I saw a woman behind a desk and assumed that to be my starting point. I told her who I was, and she handed me a pile of paperwork.
I got the paperwork filled out, and there was nothing left to do but wait for my turn. My name was finally called, and a nurse took me from the waiting room back into the examination room. She took my blood pressure, asked me a few questions, and told me the doctor would be in shortly. “So far, so good,” I recall whispering to myself as she closed the door.
The doctor stepped through the door after about 30 minutes, just long enough for me to have convinced myself that my health was in shambles and I only had weeks to live. We said hello to each other as she crossed the room to sit down at a computer on the opposite wall. I found it a little odd that she didn’t introduce herself, but maybe she needed to go over my chart and introduce herself after figuring my name out. She never introduced herself. Weird flex, but OK.
She began asking me basic questions, and we went back and forth until I took an opening to mention another problem I had been having. She was displeased by this. I could sense something souring in our relationship, so I interrupted myself to let her know I hadn’t been to a doctor in 15 years and was unsure where to start. I apologized for laying this all on her, and this prompted her to say, “Yeah, you see, this isn’t normally how this would work. Because now I have to write down all the things you’re telling me, and then we still have to do your entire physical examination.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from something? I thought we were here to talk about my health. I am confiding these sensitive issues with you in hopes that you can help me fix some things that are bringing down the quality of my life.” — is what I would have said if I hadn’t been programmed by my serving experience to eat my actual thoughts and produce a smile instead.
I was in shock and felt like I had been wounded. I could feel my blood pressure rising as she filled me with shame. But, we got past it, and I told her a few more issues I was concerned about. With every new thing I told her, she got quieter and quieter. I apologized again and decided that I could keep everything else to myself until I found a different doctor, one who actually cared about me. I mean, how big of a deal can memory issues — just one of the things I held back — be after suffering 5 concussions? Guess I’ll bring that up next year?
Don’t get me wrong, I expected a little blowback for not seeing a doctor for 15 years, but I was hoping it would come from a place of compassion and not contempt. I fully believe that if I were to have died in that office, she would have dispassionately pushed my body out of her way and gone on to whatever engagement I was keeping her from, without a second thought to my corpse.
“She had an ‘I’m done with you’ smile on her face”
The whole physical exam couldn’t have taken more than 2 minutes. She checked my reflexes, listened to me breathe, poked around my stomach for a bit, and that was it. I could’ve sworn the last time I had a physical exam, my testicles were checked to make sure little trees weren’t sprouting out of my seeds, but that was 15 years ago, so who knows? As I said, I have memory issues.
She scheduled me for some X-rays and rechecked my blood pressure because it was a little high before she came in. I remember thinking to myself, “If it was high before, I’m positive it’s going to be high now because you just shamed me into oblivion, and I can’t remember the last time I was this angry.”
Sure enough, she said I might have high blood pressure and told me to buy a device to check my blood pressure at home. She ordered me to keep a blood pressure log for a month and scheduled a follow-up appointment to go over my X-ray results, blood work, and blood pressure log. She told me I would be meeting with her nurse practitioner in the follow-up. So, there it is! The first good news I received since she came into the room.
I apologized to her again on her way out, and she deadpan looked at me and put up her hand. She had a mask on, so I couldn’t see, but I know she had an “I’m done with you” faux smile on her face, and her hand gesture was more of a “stop” signal instead of a “goodbye” one. I would have been admitted to the ER if they had checked my blood pressure in that instant. I was fuming the rest of the day, but I was also glad she did the bare minimum in ordering me some labs and X-rays.
That’s not gold in them thar X-rays.
I got my X-rays and bloodwork done right after I left her office. The X-ray tech and nurse who drew my blood were both lovely, something I was very thankful for after being treated like a disobedient child for the past half an hour.
It was over, the ball was officially rolling, and even though my doctor hated me, I wouldn’t have to see her or this place for at least another month. That happy thought barely lasted a day.
The doctor’s office called me the next day wanting to schedule a CT scan of my chest because they found a nodule in my lungs and wanted to check it out more in-depth. My heart dropped. This is what I could have prevented if I’d been any responsible and seen a doctor years ago, but instead, I chose to drink every night while my mental and physical health deteriorated.
Facing, instead of running from, reality.
I felt like I had been hit by a truck the first few days after getting this news. Normally I would’ve drunk myself into a blackout to forget everything, but I couldn’t allow myself to fall back into that cycle, and besides, it was time to start facing things head-on. I was going to have to deal with whatever it turned out to be, no matter what it turned out to be, and that would have to be.
I got the CT scan a few days later, in and out, quick and easy. Then I waited, and waited, and waited. It was still three weeks until I would have my follow-up appointment, and that is a long time to sit with the fact that you might have a tumor growing in your lungs. I should have put my mind at ease by calling to find out if they had any results, but instead, I did what every irresponsible millennial would do; I scoured the internet until I matched my symptoms with my newfound inner-lung knowledge and convinced myself I had cancer.
However, I figured no news was good news, and the longer I went without hearing anything, the better I felt. Ten years ago, I fell off of a second-story roof (thanks to alcoholism), and one of my injuries included a collapsed lung, so I was holding out hope that it was just scar tissue build-up.
I had my follow-up appointment a few days ago, and the nodule they were concerned about turned out to be multiple nodules, all less than 3mm, which I’m told is good. But multiple nodules!?
The only thing keeping me grounded was how good the nurse practitioner was. She was making eye contact when she talked to me (always a plus) and reassuring me that nothing looked irregular. She did think it was odd that there were so many of them, considering I was still so young, her words, not mine. I’m 35, and because of the way I’ve treated my body, I feel 70.
I’m scheduled to see a pulmonologist in a few months and find out for sure what’s going on then. I’ve had a collapsed lung, I smoked for years before quitting, and I worked as a low-voltage technician crawling around in attics for two years. I feel the odds are stacked against me, but I’m also staying positive because having a negative outlook will greatly reduce my quality of life in the future.
In Summary (TL;DR)
We broached the tippity tip of the iceberg in how I have treated my body and, if you saw the TL;DR and skipped right down to it, then all you need to know is that I’ve been a real asshole to my physical self, but I finally got the doctor-ball rolling.
I saw my first doctor in 15 years. Though I harbor absolutely zero warm feelings for her, she heard what I had to say — or most of it at least, I felt if I were to keep going with my ailments, she was going to report me to some OSHA for the body and have me locked up — and she pointed me in the right direction.
Takeaway
If you’re like me and have been pushing the doctor off for years, then just as the title photo says, STOP WAITING! Life is too short as it is, and there’s absolutely no reason to make it any shorter from sheer neglect.
After 15 years of alcoholic fueled bodily neglect, if somebody like me can decide to quit drinking and face their problems head-on, there’s no reason you don’t have an equal or better shot at achieving the same. Is it scary finding out what’s going on underneath that thin layer of skin holding everything in that makes you you? 100 fucking percent, but what’s found can be remedied, and what remains hidden cannot.
Resources to help you get your ball rolling:
- www.healthcare.gov — The official site for the Affordable Care Act
- https://www.healthcare.gov/apply-and-enroll/how-to-apply/ — A good source of knowledge on how and when to apply for healthcare.
- https://www.usa.gov/finding-health-insurance — A broad resource on the many ways in which healthcare can be acquired.
- https://www.bewellnm.com/choose-health-insurance/understanding-health-insurance/why-get-covered — Some (mainly financial) reasons to get your healthcare in order.
- https://blog.stridehealth.com/post/health-insurance-young-adults — Some more reasons for having a healthcare plan.
- https://www.investopedia.com/articles/pf/08/private-health-insurance.asp — I use this site to check for the best growth stocks, but, oddly enough, I found this excellent article that covers a huge range of all things healthcare, and especially things related to how you can get healthcare if your employer doesn’t offer it.
Special Thanks
I only found the courage to get these balls rolling because my better half helped push me in the right direction. The last thing I want to do is leave her alone in the world because I was too ashamed to see a doctor.
If you haven’t located your better half yet and find yourself needing that push to take action and start caring about yourself, then this article, post, or whatever you want to call it is for you. I know you don’t know me that well yet, but trust me, the people who care about you will thank you. And if that isn’t the case, then in the future, you will thank yourself for those extended years you’ll be afforded.
If you need help on what steps to take, how to find a doctor, or things of that nature, check out those resources, or feel free to email me, and I’ll let you know everything that helped me!
Full disclosure:
I am no expert in the wizardry it takes to approach the healthcare system confidently, and if you’ve read any of this, then you know I chose a doctor I despise, but I am willing to help.
You can reach me any time of the day at j.mike.stanley@gmail.com.
Thanks for Reading!
