Posts Tagged ‘medical


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!


Nothing To Report, Sir

I spent the morning being poked and prodded and made to lift many boxes and drag many more, to test my grip strength and to do toe-touches and squats.

It was not a pleasurable experience.

At the end of said experience, I was informed that, despite having to stop and use an aspirator many times during these exercises, that despite the large glob of lung tissue that was spat into a trash can, that despite the fainting spells, dizziness, and the migraine I got, that despite my heart rate being in the 130s and my oxygen dropping below 90% multiple times, that it matters more that I was able to do the things I was asked.

Lesson learned; they don’t care if you kill yourself doing a thing, so long as you do the thing.

The video isn’t coming today; I can’t talk and looking at the screen is making the one eye that can still see at the moment about to bleed, even with night-mode on. Hopefully tomorrow.

So, since I’m apparently still going to be arguing with people over the definition of disabled and will not likely be collecting any form of compensation this month, I’m still on the e-begging train; if you think you can help, please stop by my Patreon or consider dropping a dime in the bucket on my GoFundMe for my surgery fund. It’d help a lot. If you can’t, I understand; no worries. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so they say.

Hope everyone out there is having a better day than I am. Take care.



Who needs lungs, anyway?

Not me, apparently. The doctors are… charming… individuals. They have decided that they have problems in good faith as marking me as actually having a problem because I am capable of blowing into a tube really hard.

This is called spirometry. If you’re lucky enough to have not had to do this, what it entails is they shove a tube in your mouth, tell you to breathe normally for a few seconds, then take as deep a breath as you can before blowing it out as hard and long as you can.

I apparently test very well in this department. The fact that it hurts like a bitch to draw that breath, and that I see stars, almost faint, or go into 2 minute long coughing fits after doing it is apparently irrelevant to the results. They normally do this three times, but had to do it seven for me, because two of the results were “not good enough” (couldn’t blow hard enough for it to register) and two more were interrupted by coughing fits while I was trying to blow.

But yeah, no, nothing wrong here, right?

They say my weight is likely to have something to do with the problem, neglecting that I used to be 260 pounds (which, at 6 foot 5, isn’t all that hefty) but have put on 40 pounds in the last year, primarily due to a sedentary lifestyle in attempts to avoid as many asthma attacks and coughing spasms as I can. Also neglecting they upped my antidepressants (for all the good they do me lately), which can have a negative impact on weight. It’s almost like the problems caused the weight gain, not the other way around, but hey, what do I know? (I mean, aside from having been exposed to medical texts since a young age and at one point having aspirations of being in the psychiatric field, which required med classes…)

They have done multiple X-rays of my chest, and have me scheduled for a CAT scan, an EEG and an EKG. Who knows what any of that will show, though at this point I suspect they’ll say “Well, looks fine, as long as you lie perfectly still, don’t talk, and have doubled up on all your meds in preparation for surviving the two hours of driving and six hours of poking and prodding we’re going to do.” Neglecting that perhaps the problem is that I have to sit still, not talk, and double down on meds to do anything more strenuous than walking to the bathroom.

The shrinks have yet to weigh in on anything, as they apparently think leaving a schizophrenic with bipolar depression who’s having all kinds of other medical problems and is bloody miserable to swing in the wind for months while they “figure out” when the doctor can see them is totally okay. But don’t worry, they sent me to a therapist.

I am about 99% certain my problems are not relating to anything a therapist can help with. I’m well aware of the historical and current stressors on my mental state and am quite capable of dealing with them on my own. I doubt they’re going so say “well, have you thought of it like this” and a magic lightbulb will go on and I will be healed. Fairly certain my mental issues are chemically related, need a tweak to my meds, and are being exacerbated by external stressors, not created by them.

The doctor also tells me I need church. I neglected to point out that I was sent to Catholic school for a chunk of my childhood, followed by LDS doctrine up through high school and had Jehovah’s Witnesses try to recruit me, all without having any real relief from my problems, medical or otherwise, while piling on more guilt, shame, self-loathing and abuse. I don’t think Jesus is going to kiss my boo-boos. (Or Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Vetala, Shiva, Satan, Lucifer, Odin, Baal, the Green Man, Zeus, the Horned God, aliens, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or any other higher or lower power you may or may not subscribe to.)

Then to top it off, I got slapped yesterday with a summons. I’m being sued in Small Claims Court over $500 of medical bills. Yay.

I wouldn’t consider myself suicidal – I am far too afraid of what afterlife may await, or the possibility that I’m already in it, to take the plunge – but I won’t deny that every day the sharp objects look a little more appealing and the urge to even crawl out of bed looks more pointless.

Anyway. Sorry for the depressing post; just needed to vent a bit. Hopefully we’ll have some more of Dr. Gale tomorrow.

As always, if you think you can help out, my Patreon is right here, and if you want to contribute to the surgery/medical/staying alive until I can fix this fund over on GoFundMe, it’s right here. Never required, but always appreciated, and even if you can’t donate, a share helps, too. Thanks to everyone who already has, and again, no guilt if you can’t or won’t.

Take care, everybody.

KA Spiral no signature

Show your support

Adopt an Artist

Take pity, and eternal gratitude will be yours; helps keep this site running and the words flowing.

PayPal Donate Button


Follow Insomniac Nightmares on