I have been called a hypochondriac.
Well… no one has actually said the words “My dear, I believe you to be a hypochondriac” but it surely has been implied.
“It’s just gas. Go back to bed.”
“We don’t see anything wrong. You can just go home and wait it out.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Each time someone did not believe me. And each time something happened, whether it was kidney stones or appendicitis or losing 20 pounds during the first five months of my pregnancy. And then it happened again.
It all began long before I even knew it. Something was happening inside of me and I didn’t really even notice. Something was growing. Planning. Anticipating. It was anticipating the right time to attack. As it waited patiently, another one of its kind joined him. The younger, smaller one was more aggressive and less patient. She wanted to attack hard and fast. But the older one, more wise and clever, knew that if they waited long enough, got big enough, that the effect would be far more satisfying, at least for them.
And so they waited, listening and growing, thriving off an unsuspecting dehydrated fool.
And when it came time to begin, I still was unaware. No. That is not true. I could feel something wrong. There was a pain that would come and go. Every day it came. It seemed so strange, to have a pain that would come every day, hurting for a few seconds then stopping only to start up again a few seconds later. This would go on for half an hour. Then was gone.
We were at a loss. What could this be? At follow up appointments after Millicent was born, I would tell the doctor what was going on. The only way I knew to describe the pain was to say it was like a bladder infection. She would test for a bladder infection but it only came up negative.
“There is blood in your urine but that could just be residual from the last kidney stones” she would say.
That was of no comfort.
In the meantime, those creatures were slowly making their way through spaces they could not fit. They pushed and shoved one another, determined to get through and cause as much pain as possible. I was a wreck. Feeling this pain every day, the meanness in me showed through. I was impatient and harsh. Though the pain was not constant, it began to last longer and hurt more. Yet every doctor and every nurse who examined me told me they could see nothing wrong. One even went so far as to suggest that the pain might all be in my head. Normally I would be furious at such an implication but after months of this pain, I was merely deflated. I wondered what could be so wrong with me that my mind would trick me with such painful delusions.
I only had a to wait but a few days until I was in enough pain that the doctors really did believe that something was going on, and not just in my head. We found ourselves in the Instacare, being moved to the top of the waiting list because I was writhing in pain in front of the other patients. Finally someone other than my husband could see that it was not in my head. After those lovely pain killers kicked in and I was given more to help me for a while, we had to wait for a few weeks to finally meet with a doctor who would help. But those creatures inside me were stubborn. They would not be forced out. They would make their way slow and sure until they made it out on their own.
And so, with one baby only three months old, I gave birth to a set of twins. The labor itself took the entire three months, which I do not recommend. It took me three months to get those suckers through and as soon as I did, I gave them away to someone who would study them and test them.
So no. I am not a hypochondriac. I just happen to have bad luck and kidneys that collect calcium at ridiculous rates. And no, it is not all in my head.
