Posts Tagged ‘doctors


Doctors, Doctors Everywhere

Got another new doctor today. This one basically heard me out, threw his hands up, and said “I can’t help you.”

Then he backtracked, saying what he could do was offer referrals to a shrink, a pulmonologist and a disability assessment specialist, and he could take some more blood for some more tests – apparently when it was suspected arthritis, the previous doctor neglected to check for the rheumatoid factor, which would strike me as an important factor to look for if you think someone might have arthritis, but hey, I’m not a doctor – printed out the referrals and then sent me on my way.

I really wish Dr. House was real. Maybe he could fix me. It would turn out to be some stupid thing that was missed, some minor detail, and he’d catch onto it and make me magically well. Plus, I might get to meet Dr. Cameron. Bonus points there.

So that’s where it stands; I have dumbfounded yet another member of the medical profession, who decided all he can do is play with seven vials of my blood like some kind of bizarre biblical metaphor, and offload me onto specialists. Hooray.

I am so sick of doctors. I wonder if that’s a disease or condition in and of itself. Probably.


Doctor’s Woes

According to the doctor, I’m crazy. They can’t find the physical cause for my problems, and therefore it’s all in my head.

His exact words were “It’s not like you’re crazy or anything, but poor mental health can spiral into physical symptoms, especially if you have certain conditions.”

I interpreted that as “You’re not crazy, but you’re crazy.” Maybe I missed a memo. Besides, it’s true… I am crazy. Schizophrenia, bipolar, depression… I’m a wonderful bag of marbles, filled to the brim with croakers and chokers.

What that means in the long term, I don’t know. If they can’t show there’s something physically wrong with me, then no matter how miserable I am and no matter how many doctors tell me it’s not safe, I’ll have to try to find some form of work. I brought this up to the doctor today, who decided to schedule another functional capacity evaluation. Maybe they’ll pronounce me cured through the wonders of modern medicine. Or maybe they’ll hand me a sheet that means I don’t have to lie to any prospective employers when they ask if I am ready and able to work. We’ll see.

So yeah, been a fun day. Still not sure if I”m going to manage a second writing prompt this evening or not… I’m skimming for new lists, because the one I was working from 1) only has 365 entries, which could be a problem, since I’ve done 2 or even 3 almost every day, and 2) has a lot of references to things and concepts which just aren’t around anymore… my favorite being the suggestion to go to Missed Connections on Craigslist and write a story about a post you find there. If anyone out there has good writing prompt list suggestions, please share.

Hope everyone out there is having a better day than I am. Gonna go listen to more moody music and look for lists. Until next time.


Doctor’s Orders

I’ve got one of my innumerable doctor visits today. Not looking forward to it. All that ever happens is the same series of questions: “How are you feeling today?” “Like the same crap I felt like last time I saw you.” “That’s too bad. Let’s do some more tests.” “Okay. How much blood is it this time? How many X-Rays? Want me to jog in place for five minutes?”

Round and round it goes, and the end result keeps being nada. “Well, you have severe asthma” they say. No shit, Sherlock. How are you going to fix it? “It’s not safe for you to return to work,” they say. Again, no shit. Tell that to the lawyers and the SSA. Oh, you did. They just didn’t think it was bad enough.

I had a work offer the other day. 4 hours a day, work from home, customer service. I’d have loved to take it, if only to have something else to do with myself and actually have some kind of income coming in. But the doctors looked at it, looked at the requirements and said “it’s not safe, and no guarantees you’d be able to consistently do the job. No. Doctor’s orders.”

There’s a phrase I’m sick of. The doctors are always giving me orders, and none of them seem to get me anywhere. I’m on two steroid inhalers, prednisone, an anti-psychotic, an antidepressant, an antidepressant enhancer, three allergy pills and allergy injections and they still can’t fix me or even render me safe to do something as simple as answer the phone with a “how can I direct your call” and they expect me to be chipper about it?

Part of me wants to say “Hell with it,” and stop going at all. But then I wouldn’t be in compliance, wouldn’t be trying to get better, which would give the SSA a secondary reason to deny me, other than the ones they already use, but I really don’t see the point. Same questions, same answers, lose some more blood, get irradiated again, still no answers.

Part of me wants to say “Hell with it,” go to work anyway despite their warnings and work until I drop, if only to prove a point. “Hah,” it will say on my tombstone. “I told you I was sick.” But that’s not going to get me anywhere, either.

It’s all very frustrating, with no end in sight. But I suppose the moral of the story is, if you don’t see a second writing prompt or post from me today, that’s why. Doctor visits always wear me out, leave me wiped out for the rest of the day, and I don’t foresee being able to drag myself up the stairs again to write anymore today. Though who knows? I may defy expectations.

Have a good day, everyone.


Doctor Hate, mk 2

So, after being subjected to a surprise sleep study, the results came back. To no one’s surprise, except apparently my doctor’s, I have severe sleep apnea.

Well, no shit, Sherlock.

The doctor then, rather than accepting the results, mandated that I do an inpatient sleep study. So I get to go somewhere, sleep in someone else’s bed with a bunch of wires strapped to me, so they can confirm the results because, in his words, “sometimes things are a little different at home.”

In other words, he thinks I rigged it and is checking for trickery. At least, that’s how I took it. Meanwhile I’m sitting here wheezing and thinking to myself “just prescribe the goddamn C-PAP machine already, dickhole.”

I’m so tired of this crap. Playing doctor roulette is getting exhausting, and going through the same battery of tests every time – I also get to redo my allergy needles and spirometry – so they can hit the same brick wall, scratch their head and decide I’m lying or they don’t know is infuriating.

Sorry for the less than positive post. I’ll try to be cheerier tomorrow.


I Hate Doctors

Doctors. I have like five of them. I’m actually fairly neutral to two of them, and like one of them, but the last two are quickly overshadowing that with a seething irritation that’s bordering on rage.

You see, I had to change insurance. That’s because my work insurance was finally cancelled. This was a few months ago. My new insurance doesn’t cover my old GP, so I had to get a new one. That’s all fine and well; I dislike the situation, but there isn’t really anything I can do about it, so I accept it. But my new GP apparently can’t be bothered to even schedule a new patient until at least October.

That means, from the period of November last year until at least October this year, I am without a GP. Prescriptions ran out? Too bad; wait it out. Feeling dodgy and think it’s a little worse than just a cold or mild case of the flu or bronchitis? Tough it out or hit the Urgent Care and rack up another bill you can’t afford. Keep in mind that October date was pre-plague, as well, so who knows if it’s still valid; calls to his office have yielded no results.

Then there’s the pulmonology department. My old pulmonologist was great. She was helpful, sympathetic, and was willing to try throwing everything at my problems, hoping to help me. She just retired, though, and her replacement is… less than stellar.

He asks me to describe my symptoms, and tells me “Well, anyone carrying your weight is going to be short of breath, anyone can make themselves cough, and needing naps isn’t a valid problem.”

Excuse me? So, your first gambit is to tell me “You’re fat, you’re lying, and I don’t care?” Then he decided to cancel my steroid prescription. He says I’m overmedicated for my problems, which he isn’t sure I have. Then he dismissed me.

That was the ten minutes I got to spend with my new doctor. After I showed up early, filled out all the new patient forms, was still early for my appointment, and then had to wait half an hour past my appointment time to actually see him.

Then I get a call two days later from a clinic wanting to schedule my “procedure.” “What procedure,” says I, not having been made aware of any such thing. “Your sleep study, ordered by Dr. Blahblah.”

Fuck what? So now he’s just scheduling shit and not bothering to tell me? Cool, doc, cool.

Then I get an e-mail from GSK – those guys who make a fortune selling corticosteroids and bronchial dilators to folks like me – telling me I’ve been enrolled in their new test program. Again, at the behest of the doc who didn’t tell me he was going to do that.

I’m fine with taking whatever tests they want, trying whatever drugs they want to try – I’d like to get better and go back to work or be officially declared a lost cause, one or the other – but typically shouldn’t you let the patient know what you’re doing or what you expect of them? Maybe I just live in a different universe.

So, yeah. I’m beginning to hate doctors, and I’m sick of having to swap them around and having to go through the same shit every time with each and every one of them.

What’s everyone else’s experience with doctors? Had one you really hated? Any particular reason? Let us know down below!


Doctor Drama

Nothing much to report today; work continues on Chrysanthemum Graves, though at a snail’s pace. I think I’ll have a chunk I feel like sharing tomorrow, or maybe Friday, so if you’re into that sort of thing, feel free to check back then.

Today is a medical day, though. Three different doctors in two different cities who are going to poke and prod me and likely leave me exactly as I entered with the exception of less room on the credit card after paying the three different $80 co-pays. Getting really sick of going to these. But if I don’t go, my employer and the folks at disability assume “oh, he’s fine now, no need to worry.” Never mind the back pay they should have dealt out months ago, but they’ll definitely put a hold on anything forthcoming. So I keep going to the doctors, who keep telling me the same thing, and they keep dragging their heels.

I am so utterly sick of dealing with medical personnel and all the associated extensions it requires. This should be very simple. Send one human with a brain to my house and watch me try to do chores for an hour or two. Do a two-hour phone call. Discover “wow, he’s fucked up!” Sign off on form that says “Wow, he’s fucked up!” Send a second person to echo that sentiment. Be done.

But no. Six doctors, a year, and having to call every single day because they can’t be bothered or trusted to return my calls or call me back. The latest on that one is my employer called me yesterday to ask if I had my original rejection letter. This is the first I’ve heard from them since two weeks ago when I finally got through to a third-tier supervisor and manually sent all the info to him. I told them “Um. No. I’ve had to move, and I have roughly a crate’s worth of medical records, so I’m not sure where that would be at the moment.” They inform me they’re going to have to pull it from their records, then.

They’re damn fast about finding paperwork when it’s something that supports them telling me to go pound sand, but apparently, it’ll take them a week to find a document they sent to me, that should be in my damn file. Ugh.

Anyway. Off to the doctor’s. Send chicken. Or drug money. If you feel like doing either, you can stop by my Patreon or GoFundMe. Everything helps.

Until next time, folks.

KA Spiral no signature



Doctors are Crazy

It will never cease to amaze me the amount of paper and time doctors can waste. I think we could make a serious dent in the paper waste industry if we cut some of that out.

Nine months and six doctors later, I’m officially considered broken almost beyond repair. The last report on this took 38 pages of single-space small type that all basically says “Failed, failed, failed, failed, failed, fainted, failed, fainted, had to medicate, failed, failed” ad nauseum. Oh well.

Nothing else to report today. Still mourning the loss of manuscripts from the other day, and after another 3 hours at the doctor’s, I’m wiped out. Until next time.


“Do you have an appointment?”

That’s a phrase I’m getting really sick of hearing. The answer is generally “no, because that’s what I’m calling to schedule.” The scheduler will then inform me that they have nothing open until March or some other ridiculous timeframe, and frequently add that “they don’t schedule that far out, so call when it’s closer to that time.”

Here’s the situation: I haven’t been able to work for almost a year. I’m on medical leave because my GP at least gave me a note for that, but my work’s disability folks and the SSA don’t think his word is sufficient for any kind of payout, temporary or otherwise. So I got a referral to a pulmonologist. He wanted to cut on me, swapped one med, and then couldn’t be bothered to see me for three month periods. He wouldn’t fill out any disability paperwork because he didn’t feel he had enough knowledge of my case, but couldn’t be bothered to see me in anything resembling a timely fashion so he could learn about it.

The local physical therapy folks don’t do the tests that are apparently required to show that I can’t breathe or move around well enough to sustain activity for 8 hour periods. So they referred me to someone else, who couldn’t see me for two months and wanted an $800 deposit to do the tests. That’s after insurance. Then they turned around and said they don’t do the tests I need, I need to talk to someone else.

So I get a new pulmonologist. She’s on the ball. She sees me two days after I call her, plays roulette with the meds, orders referrals to two places that will do the tests I need, schedules to see me again in two weeks, actually acts like she cares. Her documentation isn’t sufficient for that the disability/SSA folks need, either.

Call one of the places to schedule, they say they didn’t get the referral. Call the pulmonologist, she confirms she sent it, confirms all the info. Call back the PT place, they say “We have that. We’re waiting for insurance to confirm. Call back in two weeks.”

Call the other place – and apparently, I need both – and get danced with for three weeks with them before they finally find a “possible” opening in December. I have to be in Portland (which will be a 2 hour drive for me), skip my meds, no eating, no drinking anything but water for 24 hours prior and be prepared to spend six hours being subjected to strenuous physical activity to see how much it takes to break me… on a “possibility.” They can’t guarantee they can see me that day, but I need to be there in case they can. Otherwise, I’m out of luck until March.

Still waiting to hear about the first place. Disability doesn’t care; they’re of the opinion that “you’ve been messed up for this long, someone should be able to sign off on it.” You’d think so, but even having them on the line with the scheduling folks doesn’t change their minds or at least give me a grace period.

I’m not sitting here staring at the walls and doing nothing. I’m stuck at the mercy of the medical system. I spend hours on the road, shuttling between Salem, Albany, Corvallis and Portland and paying out the ass at every stop so they can tell me to wait longer or talk to someone else, and the net result overall is most of them want to cut on me (even though none of them will sign off and say “he’s broken, we want to chop him up and try to fix him, but no guarantees,” in a goddamn state where you can skip your vaccines because little Timmy doesn’t do shots on a day that ends in “Y” and where potheads and meth addicts can get treatment for free and immediately for problems of their own manufacture.)

It’s exhausting. And expensive. And my insurance is about to be canceled, my credit is completely shot, I’ve pawned everything I own that has any value (unless I really want the $20 I’ve been offered for my PS4, which will buy me some Popeye’s and refill my antidepressants, but not much else.) And I am just so done with all of it.

I don’t know why I keep trying; it seems like everything these days is rigged against you when you try to follow the rules and do things the right way. If you want to play lets-pretend, the identity game, or ignore law and order, you get a lot farther it seems like.

Anyway. Back to waiting on hold. Sorry for the depressing post. If you can help keep me afloat while the doctors sort it out, it’d be appreciated; I have a Patreon as well as a GoFundMe. If you can drop a dime or even just share the links around, it’d be super helpful.

As I’m fond of saying lately: Hold the thoughts and prayers. Send chicken. Popeye’s #3, Spicy with Coke and Mashed Potatoes.

KA Spiral no signature


Sick and tired

…of being sick and tired. Not leaving the house except for doctor visits. Haunting the house more than living in it, drifting around the living room and attempting to move as little as possible. Having the will to do plenty of things but not the ability or resources.

It’s bloody miserable. Today is just worse than usual, as I get to be poked and prodded and loaded into a tumble-dry coffin and forced to wheeze out my tidal breath until I almost faint and be pushed around in a wheelchair from one end of the medical campus to the other. This has been going on for the last 3 hours, and will continue for at least another three.

Pretty sure there’s not going to be anything done on Black Yard or “Dr. Gale,” as I already just want to curl up and die, so I can’t imagine it’ll be any better when they finally decide to let me go.

Stupid thing is this all is probably pointless. They’re just running up the bill because they can, at this point, and it’s not helping my state, t mood, or my other bills. Kind of makes me wonder why I keep going.

Oh well. Hope everyone else is doing alright today. If anyone sees this, please skip thoughts and prayers and send chicken. (I’ve decided that’s my new catchphrase. Thoughts and prayers are, of course, appreciated. But nothing beats a Popeye’s spicy #4 with mashed potatoes, am I right?)


Doctors are Evil

I am wiped the hell out after today’s doctoral adventures, so this will be short and bitchy.

  • I just want to say: it is ridiculous that I have to play pinball with five different doctors, all of whom are pointing fingers at each other for who needs to fill out paperwork so my employer knows I’m borked and they’re trying to fix me. On top of spending all day without my meds or eating and being subjected to spirometry, which is a miserable experience as I’m sure anyone who’s dealt with it knows. CAT scan and EEG next week. Hooray.
  • Anyway. Sorry for nothing exciting today. Hope everyone is well.

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