Call Me Dummy (or Call Me Smarty)

Ho-kay. So. I refused a CT scan. Feel free to vote "dummy" or "smarty" -- once you know how it all went down.

Per Marty's instructions, I showed up at the hospital for the ultrasound. Like a good patient, I was nice and still and asked only enough questions to avoid being obnoxious. (I wanted to ask more; this stuff fascinates me!) The ultrasound technition is amazed at the number of ovarian cysts I have and insists that they're the culprits, but I assure her that I have them every time I have a "preventative pelvic ultrasound" and that they are not what's causing the pain -- especially since the pain is over here, not there! (Sheesh.) She moves the wand over the area I specified and of course, I jump three feet in the air. "Hmmmm, interesting," she notes, adding that she's not sure why my pain is there and not here. She seems slightly aggitated that 1.) my pain isn't in my ovary and 2.) the appendix isn't what she seems to be seeing each time I yelp. Sorry I can't comply, lady...

After more poking and prodding (and a bit of leaping and yelping), the tech announces that we are officially finished with the ultrasound, adding that she's still baffled, but that I should get dressed and wait. Which I do. I figure that I'm waiting for the doctor to talk with me about the findings, so I'm a compliant, patient patient and I sit in the dark room, waiting.

The doctor never comes to talk with me. Instead, the tech comes back and announces that I need a CT scan. Just like that -- no reason given, just "you need a CT scan, follow me." I'm completely taken aback. "Why?" I ask. "What does the doctor suspect?" Three steps ahead of me and walking fast (I can't keep up because -- hello... this hurts when I walk!), she answers, "Not sure, I was just told to take you across the way." Which she does, ordering me to "sit here and wait." I was alone in an empty waiting room, with no indication as to why I was there. Why the mystery? Why the rush? Is the rush because the office is busy and they're trying to move patients in and out, or is it because my health warrants it? What am I waiting for? Who am I waiting for? Why do I need a CT scan? What's going on?

I call Tom and of course I start to cry. He offers to come to the hospital (which is a few blocks from his office), but I don't know how he can help, so I ask him to hold off. Another call interrupts my call with Tom. It's Marty (my PA), saying "I bet you're kinda confused..."

Uh, YEAH!!

Marty explains that, because they couldn't see my appendix, because of my family history (with ovarian cancer... huh?!) and because my "insurance is so good" she decided that I should play it safe and have the CT scan. Good insurance? Huh? What does that have to do with anything? And why do you think my insurance is so good? Turns out that Marty was under the mistaken assumption that I'm a Microsoft employee and she figures that, since they'll pay for it all, why not go for the CT scan? (Proof that insurance drives the health care industry?!) I explain to her that I'm NOT an employee, but a contractor, and that my insurance is mediocre at best... but if she feels that a CT scan is best, OK I'll do it. She assures me that she isn't worried about cancer or any suspicious mass; she's worried about my appendix rupturing.

I am sufficiently scared enough to comply and I head back to the diagnostic imaging department and fill out the patient information for the CT scan. So far, so good. I'm not happy, but I'm being a responsible health care consumer. Right? Well, the three venti-sized (hey, I'm from Seattle -- all liquids are categorized as short, tall, grande or venti!) cups of contract that I was ordered to drink in an hour definitely gave me second thoughts. I do not consider the injestion of vile contrast to be under the label of "non-invasive." By the time he mentioned the barium enema and the IV I'd also be asked to endure, my gut instinct -- which has never betrayed me -- was screaming "Noooooooooo!" Staring at the three full cups of contrast (which Mom always threw up... not a good memory for me), I called Marty back, sat on hold for 20 minutes (the CT staff was definitely thinking "difficult patient" by this time) and when she finally answered, I asked whether this was absolutely necessary right this minute. Marty hesitated a bit and said, "No, you don't have to do this right away."

That's all I needed to hear. I brought the contrast -- untouched -- back to the nurse and told them that I was opting out. And I left (of course bursting into tears again once I got to the car).

Hey, unless I am in absolute imminent danger, I want to do some research and educate myself about what's happening to me... or might be happening to me... or isn't happening to me. Good thing I did. What I found was that I don't have all the symptoms of appendicitis (does a hot flash count as a fever?!) and that I should probably go with the smaller, less expensive, less invasive diagnoistic test (like a simple blood test) first. Which is exactly what I'm gonna do.

Ho-kay. So. After a night during which my symptoms got worse -- which I chalked up to "everything feels worse at night" -- I came to work today because I don't get paid if I don't and my family counts on my salary and I'll leave early to get a -- you guessed it -- simple blood test. I'll bet that it will show that maybe an ovarian cyst ruptured (which is not a dire emergency), but that I don't have appendicitis.

And yet again, I will be assured that intuition is a wonderful thing and something that I should never stop listening to it... because it has truly never betrayed me. And yes, in case you're wondering, I will get the CT scan if my white cell count is elevated. I'm no dummy!