DOCTOR #8

Side note: I realize in my earlier posts, I had mentioned one of my dogs and one of my cats were sick. I had meant to include their stories because it was such a big part of what I was going through at the time. In addition to those two, 2 more of my cats got sick. I'm sorry but I'm just not ready to go there yet. I shed alot of tears and I still can't think about them without crying. I'm crying right now because I want to talk about them but I just can't. Hopefully by the time I document this year, I will have some of this off my chest enough to share. To all you animal lovers out there, thanks for understanding and for those that love me, thanks for the support.

Okay, back to Doctor #8. July 2, 2007. Went to the Pulmonologist. Oh boy, where do I start? Okay, we'll just call him Quackadoodle #8. I didn't know it on the first visit. He seemed to be a very cool cat. Old surfer dude, has his practice in an old plantation style house, came in barefoot with his shaka attitude, totally laid back. He examined me and although I could feel my chest was tight and I had a raspiness to my voice that was odd sounding, like a sexy lounge singer, he claimed not to hear a thing. I guess he had ocean water in his ears. By this time, I had read up on different tests ordered for Sarcoid and my parents and I pushed for him to order them. He absolutely would not consider Sarcoidosis because I was not 'African American' and I had lived on the island for 17 years. ( must be a Quackadoodle thing). He said he only had 2 patients, only with lung involved Sarcoid and they had recently moved here from geographical locations that have sarcoid. What an idiot! We at least talked him into ordering a CT scan of my chest and an abdominal ultrasound. He was the only Pulm on the island so I was really hoping I didn't have to see him anytime soon...