Closet World Update: Closet World Part IIII

(It's been at least a month since I last ranted about the Closet World commercial. So I've pretty much gotten over it, right?

Then I'm sitting watching the news with my Dad, and, of course, the Closet World commercial comes on. And immediately, Dad says, "Hey, can you dance like this robot guy?"

And I sigh.

"Where is it? Did they get rid of it?"

"No, it's just at the end," I reply sadly. "Mom hates that thing."

And internally I laugh at the way each one of us, individually, have brought up the fact that this commercial is awful. The creepiness of the dancing animation is unanimous.

And I also give a rueful chuckle that neither my mother or father had read any of these on-going rants and updates I've released into the internet. 

Conclusion: eat poo, Closet World.)

In Which I Rant About Doctor Visits and My Inability to Process Pain

So, it's no secret that I go to a lot of doctors appointments. I see half a dozen specialist for my half a dozen issues, so doctors offices have become almost a home away from home. Okay, not really. But I've got the routines down pat. I know to come prepared with my medications list/changes in medication, I know that the nurse will always be surprised at my high pulse and am prepared to explain it, I've learned how to be an advocate for myself. (But most importantly, I've learned to always prepare small talk to make the situation less awkward. Complimenting the nurse on her nails always goes over well.)

But there's one thing that I hate about doctors visits, especially when it's for an urgent issue. I don't know how to rate pain. When the doctor presses on the malfunctioning body parts and says "Does this hurt?" I'm always extremely confused. 

Listen, lady, I have a disease where my nerves are constantly malfunctioning and sending signals of great pain to my brain for no reason. I can't process pain. My nerves are not something to be counted on to do their job, you see? So when you jab at my stomach, yeah, I feel it. It's uncomfortable. I might even go so far as to say it's tender. But does it hurt? Who knows?

I have a chronic pain disease. Which means I hurt all the time. Which means I've gotten really used to it. Which means, in addition to having haywire nerves, I have a high tolerance for pain. So my scale of "pain" is a whole lot different than the average persons. 

(Like there was this one time that I was at the doctors for something completely boring and benign, and I just so happened to mention that my throat was feeling sore the other day, and it turns out I had really bad strep throat. My doctor actually asked me if I'd been swallowing lit cigarettes, it looked so bad. And he was serious. I just don't understand pain.)

Today's experience: 

Dr. "Does this hurt?"

Me: "Ummmmmmm, kinda."

Dr. "And here?"

Me: Contemplating pause: "not really. I mean, it's kinda sore."

Dr. "Here?"

Me: "yeah, I think so."

Dr. "Show me where it hurts."

Me: "Well, I feel it just feels sore right here, and on the side, and that side, and right here-- no, up a little, yeah, there. And down a little."

Dr. Exasperated: " that's everywhere."

Me: "Well. Yeah."

So then she said what all doctors end up saying in the end: "Well, since you're not jumping off the table when I touch it, it's probably not anything serious."

And then I'm sent away with a list of over-the-counter drugs and shooed away with assurance that I'll be fine. But it's not fine. 

So when I have a distrust of Primary Care physicians, I think it's pretty accurate.