It takes a decent amount of feeling badly to get me to go to a doctor. The degree of badness required isn’t equal, body-part-wise, either. A week with an upper respiratory infection is plenty. My stomach–well, that remains to be seen. Because the bad feelings I was left with after the office visit were worse than what I’d come in with.

To start off with, there are no more than a half-dozen gastroenterologists in my insurance network. The only one within 200 miles of me doesn’t “do” office visits. You have to meet with his nurse practitioner. So I met with the nurse practitioner. She asked me maybe five questions about my medical history, then had me describe my symptoms. I did so. From that, she determined that I need an endoscopy, a colonoscopy, and biopsies of every digestive organ.

Really?

The nurse never took my temp, or blood pressure. I’d been running a fever all week. Now, I’m no medical professional, but wouldn’t that be important to suss out? Also, how can you prescribe the appropriate anaesthetic without determining if I have a heart condition?

I called the office the next day to find out how much this was going to cost me. The doctor’s fees alone were more than $3,000. Then I was told to expect separate bills from the surgical center, the anaesthesiologist, the lab and the pathologist. Five bills in all. It’s looking like at least an $8,000 fee. For the doctor’s CYA.

I cancelled the appointment yesterday. My own diagnostic skillls said it’s a gastro-racket. I can’t see throwing money at the problem without good odds of a diagnosis. 

So my belly is still funky, but my head and my heart are in tandem. And my wallet is eternally grateful.