Visit to the doctor.
Rarely, if ever, do I visit my doctor’s surgery on my own account. I have found an accommodation with myself that works well, most of the time, and I know that as I get older I am finally learning to listen quietly, to suspend judgement and to live in the moment more fully. Problem is, I had a vivid dream, the meaning of which was clear, to me, at least. I have always had lots of car dreams: a car, in various states of repair, indicates my physical life and concerns. Small careering fast downhill with no steering wheel….that sort of thing.
So, a shiny, green car in good condition. Green = health, and there is lots of that. But open the passenger door, and under all green health, you can see that the hinge, the lynch pin, is rusted right away, and that the door is only just hanging on. I took this as a warning, that one of my joints needs attention, and made an appointment to ask for a referral to X ray. But my darling GP, whom I have not seen for six years, is unwilling to expose me to any more X rays than is absolutely essential – and I would agree with her, normally – so she gently declined my request, tested my joints and told me there was no sign of any damage that would either show up on an X ray, or affect my range of movement significantly.
She said she would request a referral to physiotherapy and OT, for an assessment, to see if they can make any recommendations. The problem is, as anyone who has read ‘Trapped: My Life With Cerebral Palsy’ will know, I have an insane and quite unreasonable detestation of ‘assessments’ by medical professionals. The very idea is upsetting and I fear that if I go I shall be defensive and upset and probably burst out crying. I need my privacy. Surprisingly, the fact that I have CP appears no-where on my GP notes, but has been documented elsewhere extensively, so while my GP is entirely oblivious of my emotional fragility on the matter, I cannot explain. In this particular instance, I would have preferred a referral. I could hardly sit there and say, “Well, my angels sent me a dream, which means….” So, I am no further forward, except, perhaps, that now I am certain that I should probably go swimming every single day for the rest of my life.
Conclusion 1: Wild Horses will not drag me to any assessment.
Conclusion 2 – I am more or less back to square 1.
Conclusion 3 – I shall need to start taking more care of myself.
Conclusion 4 – So, no change there, then.
I have been swimming this morning and yesterday, so we are making progress. Maybe that is what Spirit were trying to tell me – get moving, girl! Look after yourself. So I shall be cheerful and hope for a miracle. In the meantime, does anyone have any other suggestions?
Please share:
jlwfontaine
September 11, 2014 @ 9:50 am
I operate on the same principles as you and would take notice of any vivid dream like that. My recourse in times of doubt over medical matters is Google Search. Of course, the danger is that you wil sef dagnose as having something fatal. I always do. So far I’ve been proved wrong but I’ll be right one day. 😀 So, as you asked, I’d say research joint care. For instance should you use heat pads? Frozen peas? Exercise or rest up a bit etc etc. Then decide on a course of action.
I’d also check the real car for rusted hinges. Also reflect on opening doors in general (emotional ones, I mean.) I believe it was the passenger door? Who is the passenger?
Love your blog. Wish I could come up with something for mine, but I am uninspired at present.
Fran Macilvey
September 11, 2014 @ 2:25 pm
Oh, dearest Fontaine, what a lovely comment. You make me laugh. ‘Self diagnose and come up with something fatal’ indeed! I shall do as you suggest and research a bit. Thanks for your faith in dreams, too. xxxxx 🙂
Fran Macilvey
September 11, 2014 @ 3:48 pm
Opening emotional doors……Hmmmm. (Searches memory banks) Yes, oh – yes, I have been fearful, for all the wrong reasons…. You’ve got me thinking. Thank you. And, who is the passenger….?? More to think about! ♥
Clare Flourish
September 11, 2014 @ 11:47 am
I found if I went with the crying, just allowed it, rather than try to talk through or past it, after I could talk, and be in touch with my feelings so talk more truthfully. That was a medical assessment.
Fran Macilvey
September 11, 2014 @ 2:30 pm
Yes, that would be good, but I am so fed up with crying in general, and with medical-ness in particular. I suppose I could say, ‘yes, I went for a medical today..I had a great cry….. xxxx
helen meikle's scribblefest
September 11, 2014 @ 2:37 pm
Healthy as I am, I think I have a similar accommodation with myself.: sit quietly and listen (often with the help of self-hypnosis) and the mortal illness you’re currently convinced you have will reveal itself as age/lack of exercise/lack of nutrition or similar. It’s worked so far. And I don’t think your horror of medical assessments is unreasonable at all, given your experience. I’m not keen on them either, with far less reason, If they look closely enough, I bet they’re sure to find SOMETHING, just to justify putting me through it!
I accept your dream completely, but I can also accept your GP’s assessment of your joints. Could your dream be an early warning – embrace conclusion 3 NOW, or this is what could happen.
Fran Macilvey
September 11, 2014 @ 3:45 pm
Oh yes, absolutely, especially the warning, as that feels really empowering. So I swim every day…and feel wonderful on the prescription of early starts, doing something positive and deciding to keep at it. YAY! xxxx 🙂
helen meikle's scribblefest
September 12, 2014 @ 1:12 am
I wish I could get the early starts going! Going to bed earlier would probably help…
bernieleslie
September 22, 2014 @ 4:19 pm
May I suggest horse riding? It builds up muscles you never thought/forgot you had 🙂
Fran Macilvey
September 22, 2014 @ 5:10 pm
I attended the RDA in Edinburgh for many years, Bernie! It was really good for my calf muscles and I met some lovely friends. Yes, it was lovely. But these days it seems to have slipped off my radar. xx 🙂