I recently renewed my marijuana recommendation after realizing in a panic that it had expired an embarrassing amount of time ago.
The place was crowded, nearly every seat in the waiting room was filled. They had a big-screen tv in the corner playing a Rush Hour movie, not quietly. Despite my earplugs, by the time I got in with the doctor, I was starting to stumble on my words and I could feel my face falling.
It always feels wrong to see a doctor when I'm feeling my best, as they might easily doubt that my pain is as real as it is, but I also don't like seeing doctors when I'm full-on migraining because if the doc isn't familiar with migraine, they're just as likely to think I'm drugged or drunk, or simply emotionally unhinged. It gets awkward at best, insulting more often than not, and explains why I take my boyfriend with me everywhere; he's my backup, my caregiver, my advocate, and my greatest defender against incorrect assumptions.
Luckily, this doctor didn't seem to have a problem with my communication. He was patient when I explained my problems and didn't seem bothered when I stuttered and paused when I lost words. WHAT A RELIEF. We chatted for a few minutes about my health as he looked over my paperwork. He signed and sent me on my way, but as I stepped through his door, he stopped me and said, "I'm so glad that I can help you."
I smiled a probably weak and crooked smile, migraine taking over, and replied, "Me too."