I write a calm, collected letter to my family doctor saying
that I appreciate the efforts being made, but that there has to be something
else we can do to get a clue as to what is going on. A blood test? A
bone scan? Do I need to go to the
states to get a private MRI? Only
one friend knows about this. So I
have small-c read the letter, to make sure I’m not being offensive.
I drop the letter off on Friday as part of errands. I hand it over with trepidation, as the
last thing I want to do is to offend the person who is my primary care
physician.
When I get home, there is a message from the doctor’s
office. They have an appointment
for me for the MRI. Of course, due
to privacy issues, they can’t even leave the time with me, but at least I know
that it has been booked. So now we
wait.
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