My Diagnosis

I've never liked doctors. Let me rephrase. I've never liked doctors' offices, hospitals, dental offices, or anything of the like. I have "white coat syndrome" like you would not believe. My arm has to be basically falling off before I will see a doctor. You think I'm kidding. Let me give you a real-life example. My very first visit to a gynecologist was at the age of 27. This visit was not made because I felt that it was finally necessary to go. This visit was made because I was five weeks pregnant, and I knew at some point a screaming, crying, ball-of-gross had to come out of me somehow. I'm not one of those crazy women who can squat down, pop out a baby, and go about their lives. That's a completely different culture to me, and quite frankly, I'm a big ol' baby. As far as I was concerned, a doctor was 100% necessary.

I am trying desperately to get over my "white coat syndrome" now that I have a child. There are many reasons. I want to be healthy and live a long life - long enough to watch her grow up, maybe even have a child of her own. I also do not want her to mimic my behavior. Children are influential, and sometimes when it comes to parents - Monkey see, monkey do. Lastly, I may even want to have another child (or two) someday. The jury's still out on that one. In any case, I am trying desperately to get over my issues. It challenges me every single time I have to go. I actually like my doctor (Dr. F), but it's still tough.

It was not until after the birth of my child that I found out I had PCOS. It was three years after I had her, to be exact. It probably would have been sooner, should have been sooner at least, but after I had my c-section, I only went in for one followup. Bad, huh? Funny thing is, I liked that doctor, too (Dr. P). But for as much as I liked her, I still didn't want to go back.

So, if I don't go to doctors, how did I ever get diagnosed with PCOS? It all started with my arm. Yes, my arm. I had a small, itchy spot near my shoulder. I thought it was a bug bite of some kind. Over time, it got larger. It started to look like ringworm to me. I had ringworm once as a child, because I had a tendency to befriend (and feed) stray cats. This spot looked exactly like that! So I applied generic-brand Lotrimin. After a week or two, it wasn't improving, and it had clearly gotten larger. This time I used brand-name Lotrimin. The same thing happened. I went through a long list of things that I put on that darn spot: apple cider vinegar, white distilled vinegar, hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, and liquid bandage. Then it got infected. I found out later that the reason it got infected was probably because it reacted violently to all the crap I was putting on it. Nice. But I digress. I could tell that it was infected and my whole arm was in terrible pain, so I did the only thing I could. I called my mom and asked her to drive me to the nearest Urgent Care. Instead, she set up an appointment at her doctor's office for me. That's when I met Dr. F.

Dr. F looked at my arm, confirmed that it was an infection, prescribed some antibiotics (to safeguard against MRSA) and a medicated cream, and we were ready to leave. Then my mom spoke up, "Dr. F, is there anything that you can give my daughter for her face? She gets terrible acne and it's very painful from what she tells me." Well played, Mom, well played. Dr. F looked carefully at my face (probably trying to see the acne under my makeup, perhaps even trying to get a hint of facial hair), then her eyes traveled to my waist (where I carry most of my extra weight), and finally her eyes rested on my arm (where my infection was). Then Dr. F put her hand on mine and said, "I want to talk to you about something called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome..."

That is where it began. Some office visits, blood work, prescriptions, and tests later, here I am. I'm still fairly new to all this "PCOS" stuff. I'm learning new things about it, and consequently about myself, everyday. I've learned a few lessons from this whole experience, but I suppose they were lessons that I needed to learn. Most importantly, I have learned that I need to try to stop avoiding all things "doctor." The infection on my arm healed and left me a reminder of that lesson - a "lovely" little keloid.