Mom and I scheduled our trip to Mayo, since Dr. Facade had never referred a patient there (can you believe that? In 20 years of practice!) and therefore was no help... again. At least she was consistent.
Before we left, we went to visit my old doctor, the one now in premier care. For this blog, we will refer to him as Dr. Premier. So Steve, Mom and I have an appointment with him the week we are scheduled to go to Mayo. We discuss what's been going on for the past year or so, I show him pictures of my rash and pee and OMG he's actually heard of Porphyria before. Amazing. More amazing is that it runs in his wife's family. She doesn't actually have it but her cousins and such do. He believes I have a legit case and definitely need to see doctors at the Mayo. Great, we are on track.
At the beginning of March we left Atlanta and drove the 5 hours or so to Jacksonville. I was just coming out of an attack, trying not to take muscle relaxers and hydrocodone every 3 hours, and not happy about having to stay in a dinky hotel for the next few days. I was hopeful though that we would leave with my diagnosis.
Dr. Asshole was my internist at Mayo. As soon as he came into the room the first thing he said was "you are too young and pretty to be sick". WHAT? He did a full exam, between talking about his four sons (who the F cares?) and again telling me that I was too young to be at Mayo. At one point I got so annoyed that I said back "I agree, but I am, and I'm here to find out what's wrong." Do you think I'm coming here for fun? So get this, after we finish with him, he draws up a schedule of doctors for me to consult with...
Sleep Disorder Doctor
and of course, Psychiatrist... because I'm crazy right.
Fast forward 3 days, no sleep, hours wasted, crying breakdowns, 3 pee jugs, 1 poop container, and a blood draw of 15 viles and Mom and I are on our way back to Atlanta with no answers, just royally pissed off.
Wait for results, cross our fingers that something shows, and get back as a patient with Dr. Premier.