Aaaah, memories...

Well.  I've been spending the last day or two racking my brains trying to figure out what symptoms I've had when, and I'm having a harder time of doing it than I thought.  I'm having issues because of a few major problems:

1)  I lived in Charleston, SC for five years.  In that time I divided my doctor time between Student Health, a walk-in clinic supported by my husband's insurance, and a third GP when there was finally an opening for new patients shortly before I moved.  In addition I have visits to a neurologist, ENT physician, rheumatologist, etc., and I can't remember their names to request records, and the walk-in place has since moved.

2)  I'm discovering that, once you have a buttload of medical problems, they all sort of start to run together.  I've had sinus problems so long that, to be honest, I'm having trouble remembering a time when I didn't have a face full of snot and my teeth didn't feel like they were going to explode. 

3)  Denial.  I didn't go to the doctor at all for a lot of things because I didn't want to hear the same responses again and again:

"Do you partake in recreational drug use at all?"
"You haven't been feeling depressed, have you?"
"Any chance you're pregnant?" 
"Have you been tested for HIV?"
"Perhaps you have fibromyalgia and there's nothing we can do about it."
"It's just allergies." 
"You don't partake in any recreational drug use, do you?"  

 Some doctors are really unimaginative, I must say.  There got to be a point that I got so sick of the incredulous looks from skeptical doctors that I just put up with a lot of symptoms and self-medicated. 

On the flip side of things, however, I've had to take several long, circuitous trips down memory lane to try and figure out what happened when.  For instance, I remember that I found out that I had pericarditis when I passed out in two successive belt tests for my karate class, so I've been digging through memento boxes trying to find my husband's certificates for his orange belt.  Looking through the mementos has been rather fun, I have to admit.  I was also teaching summer VBS when that happened, so I've been on the VBS publisher's website trying to figure out what theme they taught when.  (Lava Lava Island?  "Where Jesus' Love Flows?"  Seriously? *Giggle*...)

Other things are harder to reconstruct.  I have pictures for some events, like the hiking trip I passed out on, or incidental pictures that remind me of other things (Oh yeah, I was wearing long sleeves because of the weird bruise on my shoulder!  Stuff like that.)   

So, having dug through the archives, I'm making some discoveries.  For one, most of my adult life, it seems, is tied up in the history of my illness.  I can't find an easy dividing line between my marriage and my health problems.  When I pointed this out to my husband, he said, "Oh.  So I guess I'm the one making you sick."  Then he grinned wickedly.

For another, the list I'm putting together makes me look a lot sicker than I think I realize I've been.  I'm starting to realize how much I've had to push through, put aside, compromise, or cut short things because of what has seemed like minor illness.  And that realization, I have to admit, really frustrates me.

So, if there's a moral to this story, it's this:  WRITE DOWN EVERYTHING.  And get copies of your medical records.  Otherwise, you're going to have to get all Proustian with yourself trying to figure out just how sick you really are.