MyChart, My Ass

Everything that’s wrong with us, all in one place.

I’ve never liked going to the doctor. I realize this doesn’t make me unique. Far from it. But I’ve developed a raging neurosis about doctors and all things medical. Except for my oncologist. Go figure. I love the guy.

My mother was the same way. She had to be on death’s door before relenting to a doctor’s appointment. Tragically, that’s where she ultimately ended up, thanks to Stage 4 lung cancer.

Fuck you, cancer. When will you be eradicated once and for all?

Although I loved my mother, in many ways our similarities frighten me. For someone who has had breast cancer, as I have, avoiding doctors is not good. It’s certainly not smart. Especially when something feels “off.” You know that feeling: When you’re not quite sick, per se, but there something’s brewing, nonetheless. The odd ache. A constantly dripping nose. A heart flutter. Shit like that.

That “off” feeling. It’s been niggling at me for a while, now. A few months, at least. Don’t worry: I don’t believe in TMI where health information is concerned, especially in a forum like this, so I’ll just give you the top level stuff.

I’ve been experiencing some intermittent pain on the right side of my abdomen. Soreness. An achy feeling. Like that. Since I pulled a stomach muscle a while back working out with weights, I’ve been attributing the discomfort to that.

The pain, thankfully, is nothing terrible. Nothing that keeps me from pushing myself in ways I probably shouldn’t. I don’t “take it easy.” I don’t even know what that is. If I relax, my anxiety will take over and swoop me up like hawk takes down a field mouse.

Heat. Ice. Epsom salt baths. Topical essential oils. I’ve tried everything and sometimes these machinations work. But “it” never seems to go away.

This past July, after ruminating on my health to the point where I had a full-blown panic attack, I went to urgent care. Fearing that the pain had something to do with my appendix, they immediately sent me to the ER.

At this point, I was almost happy to go. I just wanted this scary shit to be over. I had a c-scan and blood work and it turned that everything was fine. I was dehydrated. That was it. My organs looked fine and there were no other concerns.

Also, in October I saw my onc for my six-month check in and blood work. Again, everything was fine. He said I was in “great shape.”

Deep breath. I was able to move on.

Fast forward to now when I had to admit to myself that this thing wasn’t going away. I was, and am still experiencing the mysterious ache. This bastard that has taken over my fragile psyche to the point where I can’t think straight. And of course, the more I think about it, the worse it gets.

And then, there’s Google. No need to go into what we find when searching physical symptoms on Google, is there?

Instead, let’s talk about MyChart. Both a blessing and a curse for someone like myself. This web portal — probably universal, by now — allows us to view all our health information in one convenient place! Lab results. Test reports. Appointments. It’s all there for us. The damn doctor doesn’t even need to call us!

Now, I understand that being able to take charge of our own health is a good thing. Great, in fact. But, keeping my fears in mind, imagine what it takes for someone like myself muster up the stuff to even log into MyChart.

I hate myself for this. So fearless in other ways, my reluctance to do what I must to take care of myself diminishes me.

That said, last week I finally bit the bullet and made an appointment with my GP, who is also my sister’s doctor. I only hooked up with him when the wonderful internist that my husband and I used to see, retired. He was old school. The kind of doctor who picked up the phone and actually called you to discuss test results.

So I popped a couple Xanax and went to see the doc. He performed a manual exam and had blood and urine drawn. He also ordered an x-ray of my abdomen. Huh! I didn’t like the sound of that.

Tentatively, I checked MyChart two days later and saw that all my “numbers” were normal. Awesome! Okay. One hurdle jumped.

This Friday, I had the x-ray done. I tried to pry info out of the tech, a bouncy, young blonde, but she wasn’t having any of it.

The next day, yesterday, actually, I sat down to see if the results were in. I knew it might be too soon, but hey, you never know.

As I was about to log into MyChart, I froze. I just couldn’t do it. Pathetic. So, I did what I’ve done in the past. I called by sister and asked her to do it for me.

As she read the findings, I felt myself getting dizzy. Oh — nothing terrible. A few minor glitches, but there was one in particular that scared the hell out of me: My spleen is “slightly enlarged.”

How is this possible, I’m wondering? It was fine in July, but now it’s…grown? From what I Googled, the spleen is an indicator that something else is wrong.

The good news: There were “no abnormalities.” So, that little fist-sized organ is now a bigger fist, but nothing abnormal was found. Should I be happy? Terrified? WTF?

Naturally, I’m to have another scan. With the dye. That kind. I’m waiting to hear from my doctor, first. I need to know: How did this happen and why? What happens if I don’t take the test? Should I be scared?

Too late. I’m already scared. Big time. I hope it’s nothing so that I can come back here and you can tell me what a buffoon I am.

As for MyChart, it’s a necessary evil in our digital society, and a useful tool, but even so, ignorance can be bliss. If only for a little while.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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