So having gone back to my less-than-appealing yellow color, I had my weekly blood tests done last week knowing that the follow-up phone call wasn't going to be great news. And it wasn't. My levels had shot up at a crazy rate in only a week. The doctor made the decision to put me on Prednisone on the chance that I have autoimmune hepatitis but also because he really just needed to do something to treat me. The way the nurse put it, she made it sound like he was diagnosing me with autoimmune hepatitis. So I started googling (which I try not to do with medical stuff but I couldn't help it) and immediately convinced myself that I was probably going to die. After that I had several conversations with people about how much I hate the doctor I go to and how the medical system in this country is so awful (I know...blah, blah, blah).
Having managed to finagle an appointment for this week, I started plotting all the ways I could make this doctor sorry I ever walked into his office! I talk a big game. I had said I was going to go in there with tons of questions and he is going to answer them, damn it. I think I had five questions total. And all of my desire for confrontation was gone by the time I sat down in that exam room yesterday. But the good news is, I feel better after talking with the doctor - who was
*Side Note: Remember when I said that my meds weaken my immune system? Well, must be Grant realized how I've not been feeling very well and he decided to bring me home a present from daycare. Pink eye! Hooray for me! Next time I think I'd just like a finger painting or a macaroni necklace.