Care Fatigue (Or how I don't recommend talk radio)

The follow up specialist who told me she did not recommend surgical intervention for my nodule also told me she thought it was a periurethral cyst sound familiar? but she did not believe it was attached to my urethra. Here is what I mean by that: in the case of the urethral diverticulum I had repaired, I had a gland that secreted into my urethra, likely to help control the pH of the environment, and it got blocked and became a cyst. But there was an opening into the urethra, which is how it would fill with urine, and presumably cause urinary symptoms. The follow up specialist believed that my vaginal bump (aka nodule, aka bane of my existence) was NOT connected to my urethra, it just sat in its vicinity (pretty limited real estate down there, you know?). But if it's not connected, I asked, why am I having urinary symptoms? ::crickets::

 So she gave me the name of another provider I could see, and sent me on my way. I didn't call the provider that day. I didn't call the provider that week. I didn't call the provider that month. or the month after. or the one after that. There are some people that would interpret that as not taking my health seriously. That would be a mistake. I took my health seriously enough that I saw 3 urgent care doctors, 2 general practitioners, 1 gynecologist, 2 female urology specialists, and a pelvic floor physical therapist in 8 months. I had 5 rounds of medication, 1 pelvic MRI, 2 Voiding Cystograms, a surgery that cut through the walls of both my vagina and my urethra, biweekly visits with a PT, and a catheter for 30 days. I paid for all of that with my student insurance. I didn't stop seeking answers because I didn't care about my health (I did), because I was broke (I was), because I didn't think anyone could help me (I didn't), but because I was tired. I was out of emotional bandwidth. I told myself a very educated doctor didn't think my symptoms were connected to my cyst, and I repeated that like a mantra over and over again, a lifeline that helped me ignore the fact that I still had burning with urination, painful intercourse, and cloudy urine.

 I continued to see my pelvic health physical therapist who dutifully asked and documented about the status of my urine (no change). She encouraged me to continue to seek answers. I saw my general practicioner for my yearly well-woman visit and she did a pap smear. She was surprised that I was still seeking answers for what I saw her for the year before. She encouraged me to continue to seek answers. Both of these providers talked me up, told me they were impressed by my resilience and my ability to speak on the subject, and reminded me that I deserve to have good healthcare.

 I still didn't call the third specialist.

 In January I was sitting at a light driving to my clinical affiliation, and I was listening to a radio show host talk about how she had found a lump in her breast a few months ago. She talked about how she told her friends about it and they told her to get it checked out. She talked about how she told her coworkers about it and they told her to get it checked out. She talked about how she told herself over and over that she was exaggerating and it was probably nothing and she she talked herself out of going to the doctor. She talked about how she was so scared she chose denial over knowing, and she justified it with expense and time. When she finally went to get a mammogram, and she found out the lump was benign, she talked about her huge sense of relief and how she felt like she had a new lease on life. Y'all, I lost it. I sat in my car, at a light, at 6:45 AM sobbing like it was me who found a lump in my breast. I cried for the radio host, the one who had been through months of fear and denial, and I cried for me, who had been through the same. I cried tears of relief for the woman who found out her lump was benign, and tears of panic for myself, who still wasn't sure that hers was.

 I decided I needed to get another opinion.