Sunday, March 13, 2011
I'm limping back to Mayo Clinic this week, in quite a bit of pain, and I'm expecting the same good news/bad news I got about a year ago: What's left of my pancreas looks healthy-ish and shouldn't hurt. Whatever relief I feel knowing that my half-pancreas looks healthy-ish disappears when I realize that now the doctor doubts my pain. Having someone doubt one's pain is demoralizing, causes self-doubt (Am I being a wimp?) and is maddening. Last year, when the doctor sent me home with nothing more than instructions to take anti-oxidant vitamins, I obeyed like a patient who knows his place. This year, if he again tells me to take vitamins, I'm going to reply, "You first. Oh, by the way, 'Vitamins' is my name for my fists!" POW, POW.