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I would love to think doctors can be fully trusted. However, 30 years' treatment for a chronic condition proves otherwise.

My most recent excursion to the hospital only reinforced this belief. With a fever inching toward 104 degrees F. and my regular doctor out of the office, I was pretty much at the mercy of the physician subbing that afternoon.

She took one look at me, read a bit of my history I had typed for her, and promptly announced, "We'll admit you for a 23-hour stay." I dropped off my car at home and grabbed the bag I had packed while waiting for my husband to pick me up and drive me to the hospital.

Having been treated at hospitals more than 100 times, I'm pretty used to routines in the emergency room, medical floor, and surgical wings. Once I changed clothes in my room, the nurse struggled with my IV, then started pushing various antibiotics through it. In between running literally to the bathroom every 20 minutes, I attempted to settle into my surroundings.

From the moment I hit the hospital door, every physician with whom I came in contact ASSUMED my current problem was a flare of Crohn's disease. They pretty much discounted my arguments. Crohn's doesn't flare that suddenly, I brought up. And the patient's temp doesn't get that high unless there's an abscess or other infection. Besides, I announced, it doesn't feel anything like a Crohn's flare.

It turns out I might as well have been talking to the walls. The gastroenterologist on call was too busy to see me, so he sent his physician's assistant. The PA solemnly announced that the CT scan I'd had in the morning showed I had . . . gasp . . . a large gallstone.

"I know I have a gallstone," I said. "I told your practice about it when we discovered it in January of 2004."

"Oh," she said. "Well, the doctor wants to do some nuclear scans of your gall bladder, you knowjust to check it out."

Before I could protest any further, she left. And I spent two hours getting my gallbladder scanned.

When the gastroenterologist finally showed up, he said, "Congratulations! Your gall bladder is working fine. I don't care whether you have a gall stone. You don't need surgery."

I looked at him evenly. "Well, as I asked your PA this morning," I began, "do you know any surgeon in his right mind who would remove a gall bladder of a patient who has had three abdominal surgeries and a ton of adhesions to prove it?"

He started backing out of the room. "Um, well, um,

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