I'll confess to an urge to shake the baby, but when I get that in check, it's somewhat relieving when the doc's eyes get wide and it clicks that there is something seriously askew.
Nevermind that I came in the first place, the giardia or colonoscopy or visits in between, never mind the hundreds and hundreds of pills, the blood drawn or biopsies run, nevermind the abdominal palpitations or complaints of edemas, it was an afterthought glance at a blood panel next to my weigh-in numbers that had her blinking and staring: there is no protein in my blood.  Nor is there much of anything else.  In fact, there's so little, I have edemas! Wow, it's a case of malnutrition, too! And I weigh... how much?  Only that?
Unfortunately, there was so much inflamed tissue it was hard to get figure out where it started, hence where to biopsy, so the trick now is to knock out the inflammation and see what's left behind.
And isn't that a trick.
Meantime, it's a big, nasty round of new drugs to quiet things down enough to get an accurate reading.

The fun part was going to the hospital ATM: while going to an ATM is usually about as good an exchange rate as you can find, the bank set its hospital branch to just under half.  And when I brought it up, it was the "Sorry, sorry, nothing we can do."