04.25.2002 -> 05.01.2002 - Necksplosion!

I know I said I wouldn't do this anymore, but I don't really have the time or energy to explain my absence at this point. This week's column kind of accomplishes that, so I'm breaking my own rules and posting it here. If you don't like it, I have a styrofoam container chock full of dick in my fridge for you to eat.

Enjoy.

What's the prognosis?

Going to the doctor used to be so much more fun when my always brief visits ended with my pediatrician giving me a lollipop, a pat on the back and enough amoxicillin to choke a horse. Nowadays, a doctor's visit is more likely to include a lifestyle lecture, an attempt to shove a finger into No Man's Land and end with confusion. As such, I've become increasingly frightened of seeing my physician.

I've been able to avoid visits to the doctor for most of my life thanks to the ever powerful combination of healthy living and bold-faced denial. My taste for the latter probably stems from many trips during my childhood to visit my mother before or after she had some part of her body surgically removed. My mom went to the doctor fairly often and found herself the lucky recipient of tumors on two separate occasions. However, I went to the doctor roughly once every two years and had never had any serious problems. Based on these findings, I came to the conclusion that going to the doctor gives people cancer.

Yes, they put me in the gifted classes in elementary school for a reason.

While I never consciously believed this, I have avoided trips to the doctor when I probably shouldn't have. I distinctly remember being shoved into a friend's Cavalier and hauled against my will to a doctor after a week's phlegm addled misery caused me to cough up what may or may not have been my pancreas. I'm not sure if it's that the potential diagnosis scared me or I thought I could cure what seemed like a common cold with NyQuil and ignorance, but I'm glad my friends had sense enough to force me into seeing a professional because that common cold ended up being Pneumonia.

Even though I've had a few episodes similar to this, I'm still reluctant to see the doctor. Basically, the only way to get me to make an appointment other than physically dragging me to my physician's office is to scare me into believing it's necessary. I've spent the last four or five days with a stiff neck, swollen glands and a headache. I planned on attacking the problem with sleep and clever excuses. If anyone asks why I squeal every time I turn my head, I plan on telling them I'm training for my new career a chubby James Brown impersonator. It wasn't until I looked up my symptoms on the internet that I realized I could have something serious. Suddenly, my James Brown plan didn't seem so cute and my fingers quaked as I immediately dialed my doctor's number.

I spoke with an advice nurse who both scared the living Hell out of me and scheduled me the first available appointment. After prodding me and asking me questions for nearly an hour, the doctor could only answer me with maybes and a request to get some blood work done. If I'm past the days of getting a Blow-Pop as I walk out the door, am I also past the point of getting certainty from my physician?

As I left the facility, I had little more than a hole in my arm and a note excusing me from my obligations for the next four days. I'll spend that time in bed with deadlines flying past my head like bullets and my distaste for doctors holding steady. It would just be nice if I had a better excuse to offer for my absence than "my doctor thinks I might have something but maybe not. At least I'm probably not going to die this week!"