I went to the doctor a few weeks ago because I haven't been sleeping well. Actually, I hadn't been sleeping at all. She ran all these tests that required quarts of blood and my liver enzymes came back elevated. On I went to the imaging center to have a sonogram done. They got the results back today and guess what? I have a fatty liver. The doctor said to diet and exercise and come back in three weeks for follow-up blood work. But the best part was when she said that in three months if my levels weren't normal she would be lowering or eliminating my antidepressants ("You know, because regular exercise produces endorphins and maybe you won't even need those medicines!"). I looked at her point blank and said "No you won't." Flabbergasted, she said "Uh, what?" I told her we wouldn't be messing with my antidepressants because I've tried it and it DID NOT WORK. She said we will see in three months.
I don't think she really understood how close she came to being beheaded with the sheer force of my brain waves. You don't mess with a crazy person's medications, especially if you're an R.N., C.N.P. If anyone is going to play Russian Roulette with my head, it's going to be a doctor with as many psychological letters behind his name as scholarly possible.
But if she insists, I could always do what my mom suggested: move in with her until my fatty liver is gone and I can restart my antidepressants.
On a lighter note (pardon the pun), I've lost 5 pounds!! WOO HOOO!!!!!
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