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It's my time...to manage myself.

I've blogged about my pediatric endo a couple of times on dLife. A Dr. H. who was a total God-send to my health and my family during those rough pediatric years. He was the kind of doctor that reminded you of your dad or grandpa, a fun-loving man who loved his job, his patients, and his life. Everything about him screamed "I want to help YOU!"

At 13, 14, 15...well all through my teenage years, I didn't see that though. I saw him as the annoying doctor who kept insisting that I could do this and I just knew that I couldn't and wouldn't. He wasn't walking this disease with me everyday, how could he know??? I'd leave appointments annoyed, tired, and often crying (although the crying lessened with Dr. H. than with any other doctor). He called me the most stubborn patient that he ever had (I believe a previous endo had recorded that in my chart).

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I’m mad.

It’s not even lunch time on the day of my appointment and already I’m looking for a new endo.

I’m mad. But mostly I think I’m homesick for Dr. C and his practice. I’m not sure I can put my thoughts together coherently, so you’re being subjected to my morning in bullet points.

• I don’t remember how I settled on this doctor, but it seems to me that his office was the closest one for a doctor whose credentials didn’t come from the University of Guatemala or University of the Phillipines.

• In the waiting room I sat. And sat. I sat too long considering my appointment was at 8 a.m. Once I got in a room I sat. And sat. I sat too long considering I barely had time to think about picking up a magazine at Dr. C’s office much less actually read several articles.

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