My body is a system, a big complex system.  What makes it complex?  Not the spark of spirit, not intelligence, not even my quirky and sometimes evil sense of humor – all that is what I’d term “metaphysical complexity” and it is in fact not proper complexity.  It is an analogy, parasitic on the proper definition of complexity for meaning.  Even the stupidest piece of living meat is complex, in the proper sense.  It has dimensions, embedded levels – it’s parts are related to one another in multiple, sometimes apparently redundant ways.  The resulting meat is more than the sum of its meaty parts.

So this piece of meat would like to know why it is that despite the meat presenting wrapped in a package that includes unmistakable signs of complexity, both proper and metaphysical, the meat is considered as a simple collection of unitary parts each of which is allowed a limited set of restrictively defined relations to the others.  Yes, I would like to know this.

This is the thought I am having this AM prompted by two things.  One is that I was replying to a friend who asked about surgery.  Is there an increased risk of cancer with endo?  So far as I had been told, no.  Turns out I was told wrong.  Oh, hey don’t blame the doctors too much. The last time I was told anything about that was years ago when I was first diagnosed.  Did the guy who did my second lap assume I had subscriptions to all the relevant medical journals?  Nah, but he might have disagreed with the studies.  Or maybe it was just the subtle kind of error in judgement that creeps in at the seams of medical communication and discourse.  A massive failing of common ground.

The other thing is that I will be doing histories again today.  The import of this is as follows:  when confronted with a history form, my gut reaction is to list everything because I assume it might be relevant.  Because I know I didn’t go to med school (and don’t subscribe to the relevant journals) and therefore who am I to cherry pick on what my doctor “needs to know” in terms of my health?  If I want a comprehensive analysis, I should give as much valid data as possible.  And so I try.  And yet I’ve had the “huh?” reaction before.  Most relevant here, I’ve had endocrinologists seem disinterested in my endo and I’ve had gynecologists who are disinterested in things like the chronic diarrhea and cyclic hip pain.  And I can’t get started on orthopedic surgeons.  There isn’t enough time for me to work through my irritation with that bunch.

So it is with this lovely attitude that the meat prepares for the several hours preop appointment this AM at the Big Ass Teaching Hospital today.

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  1. This is a very well-thought out and well presented stance on your part. I’m so sorry that I am a ball of nerves dipped in a ball of dumb today and can not fully grasp all of what you are saying. But this I know: the histories part is so hard to manage as a patient. I have begun sharing less and believe I am missing sharing a valuable piece of information.

    I’m keeping my fingers crossed that all of the pre-op appointments go well today and that you get answers that satisfy your questions. I hope your history is taken seriously and you are treated with the respect you deserve.

    Thinking of you.

  2. Oh Queen – of course you’re a ball of nerves. I am wishing you all the best for your surgery!

    My own nervousness is manifesting as it usually does:
    – verbosity
    – irritability (the fact that I’ve been PMSing hard these past few days doesn’t help)
    – anxiety to the point of tears (again, see PMS) about the new cat and whether she has (a) FIV or FeLV and/or (b) rabies.
    I’m trying to see the humor in this – I am calling it the “eeeeeek! CAT RABIES!” episodes. It helps some.

    And of course, if you ask me about the pending surgery, my typical response is “I’m fine. A little concerned about recovery, nothing unusual” said all nice and cold and clinical. Everything’s fine…everything except CAT RABIES!!!!

    Cat’s going to the vet tomorrow. Here’s hoping it sets my mind at ease somewhat and then I can find some other thing to sublimate all my anxiety onto.


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