Back in 2015 I was having some pain in my right hand side, just under my rib cage. I didn't say much about it at first, but eventually went to the walk in centre and got myself checked out. The doctor said "it may be a 'grumbling' appendix", and did that weird finger quotation mark signal around the word 'grumbling'. Because I wasn't in any acute pain, they just told me to carry on as normal, and if it were to worsen to head to A and E. A few days passed, and I felt a sudden worsening. It was a Sunday, and I went to A and E as advised. Doctor examined me, and said I should have an ultrasound scan to check out the problem. Nothing ever came of this and I carried on; the pain seemed to subside and I forgot about it. I was relieved, but slightly concerned that it had been left hanging!
A year passed, and I started to feel nauseous. I left it, and by the time I got to the fourth week of feeling awful I went to the walk in centre. It was déja vu. The doctor said that I was to get an ultrasound scan, it may be a "grumbling" appendix (same signal, same script!).
I had an issue now, though. I had never really been to the doctors and just moved house. On the same day, I decided to head straight to the local GP and sign up. They told me that I couldn't book anything until my details had been registered and my records received. Day later, I phoned. I just asked straight away if I could somehow book in an ultrasounds scan. By now I had forced myself to allow Google to override my coherent mind, and well... I was going to die of a burst appendix! The woman on the phone was sorry: I had to wait until my details were updated, then have an initial check up to make sure that I wasn't a lunatic and then, ONLY THEN could I book an appointment to ask the doctor for a scan. What a nightmare.
I finally got my initial check up done- slightly high blood pressure. No wonder. I then saw the doctor re:the scan. She said - "nope- too high for the appendix. Liver or lungs, Mr. Taylor". This was turning into even more of a nightmare than I had anticipated. It was just never-ending.
I was booked in for blood tests, flaked out and spent 3 hours in the doctor's surgery. Two nurses (two incredible nurses) made me tea and stopped their mornings-worth of patients. Just for me. I felt very special indeed, and it was only then when I began to tell a medical professional about the huge amount of strain I had put myself under. I was carrying so much on my shoulders, yet I prioritised a bit of a flickering side pain when I finally got given my GP slot a few days previous.
I told the nurses about my full time job, about my 6 month old tuition company, my wedding in August, how we'd just moved house, how I was a a full-time Open University student and about my (sometimes) dependent family members. I didn't shy away from explaining that I was a bit particular about pretty much everything I did. They told me it was a bit of a toxic combination, and after the 3 hours, I went to see another doctor.
It ended up with me being signed off for two weeks before Christmas. Once I had had the ultrasound scan and my bloods etc had come back fine, the doc put it plainly and simply: the stress was having a physical effect on my body. On telling me how tense I was, I breathed out, and realised he was right. This was a huge moment...