Back in November, I had one of the worst medical appointments I’ve ever had.
A couple of weeks ago, I went to visit a new allergist. This one was closer and more of an expert in MCAS than Dr. A was.
I asked about my symptoms before anything else. The pages of personal data and information I brought in were actually read by the doctor before he came into the exam room. I hadn’t told them that I was trans prior to visiting, but they immediately switched to using Grayson and he/him pronouns upon reading those pages.
Even more? The doctor asked me to lead the conversation, to talk about why I was there. He agreed that I absolutely have MCAS, even saying that the tests are way too unreliable to demand them as so many providers do.
As far as my allergy meds, he said I was taking exactly the doses he would’ve had me on. Since I adjusted those doses myself with the blessing of my previous allergist, that felt really good to hear.
We also talked about how NSAIDs aren’t great for MCAS folk. Why? Oh, they release histamines. Oof. So, this week I started on Celebrex instead of the Etodolac/Lodine I’ve been taking for years. I’ve already noticed a marked improvement in my pain levels and my MCAS activity.
On top of the validation, this new doctor and I think alike. We talked about two other possible treatments to keep in our back pockets for the future. Neither of us thought I needed those yet – especially when we were already making the NSAID change.
I walked out of that appointment and did something I haven’t had to do around medical appointments for a while – happy cried in my car.
It couldn’t have come at a better time, with the world being on fire.
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