By Annie Fields in The Mighty.
I thought there would be a time when I would be done with doctors. I was tired – tired of the appointments, the endless blood work, the scheduling, the MRIs, explaining everything over and over. I told myself that before I came back to school I would be better. That I would come back to school as a healthy, active student and I would be ready to make the most of my senior year of college.
I was wrong.
In some ways, I was right. I am done with doctors, for now. And that is incredibly freeing. But I’m done with them because every specialist I saw told me they were sure I had chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), but they don’t treat it. I’m done with them because my primary care physician told me, “Try this medication. If it doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas. I’ve done everything I can.”
A few months ago, those sentences would’ve been too much for me. As an undiagnosed patient who had been very sick for seven months, the idea that a doctor would give up on me was the worst thing imaginable. The idea that anyone could be out of ideas was absurd. Back then, I cried every time a doctor told me they couldn’t help me. I would have thought giving up on doctors, even for a few week, would be giving up on myself and my ability to get better.
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