#The soonest doctors appointment I could get is in two months :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xellandria · 9 months

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Some time toward the end of March, I broke a tooth. I don't remember the specific day but I can tell you it was a Thursday night cos it was during raid time, so I called my insurance-mandated dentist the next day aaaand... they're a Monday-Thursday joint. Suffered all weekend, called them on Monday and the earliest they could get me in for an emergency appointment was two weeks later. Which, you know, I took because what else was I going to do?

If you know me at all you know that this is one of my personal nightmares. I don't know why dentistry in general makes me as anxious as it does because it's not like I had bad teeth growing up or any specific bad dentist memories or anything (though I did randomly mentally scar myself by watching Ren & Stimpy once when I was too young for it, that's a vivid enough memory) but here we are.

Anyway two weeks later it turns out that it was my bottom right wisdom tooth, which somehow makes it at least a little better because the wisdom teeth are "optional" and you're not really expected to get through life with them, they're just kind of bonus teeth, right? At some point during the pandemic I'd broken both wisdom teeth on the left side of my mouth and when I'd tried getting dental attention for that everybody was closed because peak pandemic hours, so I've just been living with random spurts of tooth pain for years at this point. But anyway the dentist was going to put in a referral to an oral surgeon and I'd just get all four (three broken, one not broken yet) out. Sucks, but a routine enough thing. Also found out at that time that I had some cavities and the soonest they could get me in to deal with those was August.

Two or three weeks later I'd gotten the letter from my insurance saying that the preauth had gone through but the oral surgeon hadn't called me yet. I was in varying amounts of pain so I called the dentist asking both for the status of that referral ("oh we sent it over but here's their number you can call them") and for advice on what to do about the pain in the interim (where I had to go through a song and dance to prove I wasn't an addict but eventually got a low grade one-time prescription; I'm down to my last of those pills now). That was mid-May, two months after my initial dental emergency.

Called the oral surgeon, set up a consult appointment for that which was only available at a time when I had a different doctor's appointment already scheduled, which I then had to reschedule. Eventually got in to see the oral surgeon in the middle of June and asked him too many questions and it turns out that as the result of my questions and answers to the questions I asked, he couldn't do the surgery because he felt I was too anxious to be able to handle it without being fully sedated, which he was unable to do outside of a hospital setting due to legal... something... so he was going to notify my dentist and they would get me a referral to a different oral surgeon who works within a hospital setting so they could actually do the damn surgery.

Two weeks later I called my dentist again to find out what the status of that referral is, only to find out that no, my oral surgeon hadn't actually told my dentist about that so they were under the impression that things were working smoothly on my end. They started the referral process then but of course we're now in the start of July and I've been dealing with this since the end of March and... you know.

Middle of July comes around and I get a text right at the end of one of my spravato sessions from a maxillofacial and oral surgery center to call them at whatever number to set up an appointment. Except they don't say where they are.

They're in Portland. That's a three and a half hour drive away. But they are, apparently, the closest available full sedation oral surgeon covered by my insurance so I GUESS THAT'S WHAT WE'RE DOING NOW.

My consultation appointment with them is next Thursday--which yes, I have to do in person, which means an eight hour round trip just to have them look into my mouth in person and be like "yeah you need surgery" and then set up the actual surgery, which will probably be a multi-day thing because it's full sedation so they'll need to keep an eye on me afterwards. My mom and I have no idea what we're going to do about the cats; depending on what time of day the surgery ends up being scheduled for it's possible she'll drive me up the day before and I'll stay in a hotel then take a taxi to the hotel at like 6am or whatever the day of, then she'll drive back up to pick me up the day after. I have no idea. The other option is dragging both cats three and a half hours up to a cat-friendly hotel in Portland and hanging out there for two days. We'll see.

Circling back around to the actual dentist, yesterday was the appointment for some of the fillings in those cavities they discovered while I was there. It was supposed to be an hour long but I was sitting in the chair unsupervised for ten minutes before the dentist came in and said that the nurse+he had talked and decided I was too anxious to get my fillings done outside of full sedation too and he was going to put in a referral to a guy in Redmond to do that under IV sedation as well. I was just fucking sitting there! I wasn't hyperventilating or anything! My blood pressure was fine! WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE, I WAS DOING PRETTY WELL I THOUGHT?

Anyway so now that's up in the air too. At least while I was there I got a prescription for another ~15 pills to hopefully keep me alive until the actual surgery. Unfortunately I'm writing all this at four, five in the morning because it's a bad pain day and I keep getting woken up by the pain in my mouth and throughout the writing of all this the tramadol should have kicked in and hasn't done shit so I don't really know what I'm going to do at this point. I'm so tired of all this. It's been five months and nothing has actually been done.

#xellafail #health is hard #tw: teeth

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chronic-cryptid · 9 months

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That time an insurance company fucked my entire life straight to Hell.

Neurologist: We can do better than the treatment you’re on. Let’s try this instead.

Me: Okay.

Insurance Co the day before procedure: DENIED BECAUSE YOU’RE STILL ON THE OTHER DRUG

Me: Well obviously I’m going to stop taking the other drug once we do the new treatment FUCKING DUH

Neurologist: We’ll run an insurance appeal after telling them you are off the drug

Me: Ok - and denies my drug at pharmacy - Lives life without treatment while in waiting

Also Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING SO LONG? Had 23 migraine days and 14 days of vomiting this month? That’s 8 days in July that were okay-ish. Sort of because even when I’m not MAYBE I’m FUCKING TIRED AF from being in constant pain? Ya think? DOES ANYONE CARE I FEEL LIKE I’M DYING ALL THE TIME?

The Abyss: No

Neurologist two months later: HEY Good news. Got your approval. Let’s get you scheduled in. Soonest appointment is 4 weeks from now. End of August.

Me: Great. Thanks for letting me know I’m doomed to another month of Hell before we get to TRY a new treatment to SEE IF it works better than the last or not while I sit around sentenced to HELL for the rest of the summer. I will never forget the summer 2023. The year some insurance company decided beat me upside the head and in the stomach daily because they didn’t trust me or my doctor and decided to punish me by making me raw dog my way through the hot season with my easily triggered neurological disease.

Also Me: You could have turned the treatment down and gotten your old treatment back.

Me: Yeah. My bad. Cuz an average of 15 days of headaches and 6 days of vomiting ratio a month was so much better. Didn’t mean to attempt to better my quality of life. My bad. MY FUCKING BAD.

#spoonie #spoonie shit #shit posting into the abyss #excuse me I'm having a moment #vent posting #fuck my life

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onlyherefortheshowmances · 1 year

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I know I don’t have a lot of followers on here, especially not ones that care about my personal life, but here is a life update anyway, feel free to skip over.

Let this also serve as a lovely tale of the USA healthcare system. /s

And especially doctors who are more afraid for being caught ‘overprescribing’ controlled substances by the FDA or DEA than they are of not treating the patients’ pain appropriately.

Background: I have formal diagnoses of Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), Osteoarthritis (bilateral, but all right side are slightly worse - knees, hips, lumbar and cervical spin, shoulders, and elbows), and Fibromyalgia. All the fun pain causing things. It took from my very first symptom (right knee pain) at 14 until I was 29 (in July 2020) for a doctor to even consider checking my rheumatoid factor (which for the record is supposed to be under 14. Mine was 176 and 2 months later it was 194). Previous doctors had agreed that I had early onset osteoarthritis in my knees about 5 or so years earlier, but that’s in. The fibromyalgia diagnosis came in April of 2022. I had a repair surgery on my right shoulder in December 2018 (I was about to turn 28), and at the 1 week follow up appointment my doctor straight up told me he had to check he had the right patient after he looked inside my shoulder because it looked like I was about 80.

Now the current saga: Since February 15th I have been having the worst pain flare of my life. Including multiple instances of very sudden onset drowsiness/fatigue in the middle of the day for no clear reason (no one has figured that part out yet or even seemed to be interested in that part honest?).

On Feb 15, I had my last appointment with my former Rheumatologist who I loved, but left the practice so I had to switch now. She took me off two meds I’d been on previously between a visit in December and that visit. At that point I was feeling pretty baseline. I scheduled a visit in May with the other Rheumatologist at the clinic I go to. Driving home from that appointment while on one of the busiest and most accident prone highways in my area, is when I got my first sudden drowsiness/fatigue spell. Like I had to fight to keep my eyes open the last five minutes of my drive home and to get inside (obviously I did so safely).

When I was safely home, I call my primary care physician (at the time)’s office to see if I could be seen as this symptom was worrisome. The soonest appointment they had (as of a Wednesday evening) was the following Monday morning. I made the appointment with the clear intention of going to Urgent Care in the meantime and using it as a follow up.

Went to the Urgent care I usually avoid because the wait at the one I like was 3+ hours. Wouldn’t do anything other than a finger prick glucose test and swab me for COVID. It was not COVID or the flu or RSV.

Finally to see my PCP on Monday, February 20th in the morning which is also the first day I woke up in extreme pain. I told the doctor this. And by the end of that visit I fully decided I was switching PCPs, because she yet again blamed my weight checked some standard blood tests, swabbed for COVID again (which was negative again) and said probably viral you’ll get over it (even though I’m on immune suppressants so if it were viral that could be an issue). I also saw my (psych) therapist and physical therapist that day and had PT again the next day, so if we’re keeping track that’s already 6 health care visits so far and we’re only a week in.

Had PT again on February 23 (Thursday). Still in increased pain mode, but I could tolerate it at that point. PT on the 27th (Monday). CT Scan of my abdomen on Wednesday March 1st which had been ordered nearly a month prior when I was having left side abdominal pain that an ultrasound couldn’t figure out. The CT didn’t figure that out either, but that part subsided on its own. PT again on March 2.

On Saturday March 4, I decided to go into the city to the market as one does. I proceeded to sprain my right ankle pretty severely and bruise both knee caps. went to urgent care about the ankle on the 4th and then the knees on the 5th when I realized they hurt pretty bad, too. On March 6, I have PT, a therapy session, and an appointment with my endocrinologist where she put me on a new med to help with my PCOS. More PT on both March 7 and March 9, and an appointment with the (now previous) family doctor also on March 7 to go over the results of the CT which she had already called me with anyway. That was the last time I saw her.

March 13 and 15 I had PT. I also had a therapy session on the 15th. This was the point when the pain was skyrocketing. And if we’re keeping track that’s 21 medical appointments in one month February 15 to March 15.

On March 16, my mom drove me to an ER about 45 minutes from where I live that is a huge medical school and has every specialty under the sun and is also the medical group I use for Rheumatology and Endocrinology already. I went in in extreme pain they gave me IV tordol which did nothing. (It never does anything.) Then the PA who I saw who was absolutely lovely had to go and ask the attending what she could do. I was told they couldn’t admit me because they didn’t know WHY I was in pain and I’m just like...but isn’t that why you SHOULD admit me, so we can figure out why? Anyway, they ended up giving me 35mg of Ketamine via IV which was a trip and a half and the relief only lasted about 6 hours. Glad my mom was there to drive me home. She also gave me 50mg prednisone and tramadol to take at home. the tramadol didn’t really do anything and as always the prednisone did nothing either.

I proceeded to lay low for the entire following week other than an appointment with my therapist on Friday the 24th. I had at this point in the pain flare gotten to a place where I was in bed more than I was out of it and in so much pain it was often all I could think about.

I resumed PT on the 28th which is also the day I saw my new/current rheumatologist for the first time. She put me back on the meds the previous one had taken me off of thinking that could’ve caused the flare (I really doubt that’s true, but whatever). I also had PT on the 30th and then on the 31st I had therapy and an appointment with chronic pain management at the same hospital I’d been in the ER of on the 16th. I had to drive myself because my mom was working that day. They looked me straight in the eye and said the kind of pain you have all over, and that you’ve had for this long, there’s not a lot we can do for you. We can’t do injections cause you hurt all over. We can suggest some medications to your PCP for the fibromyalgia or we could consider medical marijuana. Almost all of my psych drugs that we finally got figured out are contraindicated with THC, so that option was out. So all that came of that appointment for PAIN MANAGEMENT was a note sent to my new PCP that she should prescribe either Lyrica or Savella for my fibromyalgia. I proceeded to go back to their ER and get an even less helpful PA who all I got was Toradol and asked if I wanted I psych consult when I said I’m in so much pain that death sometimes seems like a better option. THIS IS NOT A PSYCH ISSUE. THIS IS A PAIN ISSUE.

Last Saturday, April 1, I went to a different ER the one that my previous doctors were all part of, that’s much closer. The doctor there was the first one that actually helped or did ANYTHING honestly. He pretty much immediately got an IV put in, gave me oral tylenol, IV Toradol and then IV dilaudid which knocked me out for a nice nap until the MRI of my thoracic and lumbar spine which took over an hour and was very uncomfortable. The MRI didn’t show anything other than lumbar spine osteoarthritis which I already knew about. He gave me temporary scripts for oxycodone (opioid pain med) and flexeril (constrolled substance muscle relaxer).

I saw my new PCP on Monday evening after having PT earlier that day. I also got my hair chopped off in between because I though maybe the weight of my hair was part of my neck pain issue. The new family doctor did not listen to ANYTHING I said other than I need refills of my allergy med, please. She did not care to discuss literally anything else even when I told her pain management SENT HER A LETTER TELLING HER TO PRESCRIBE LYRICA OR SAVELLA. she did nothing. She did not care at all.

On Wednesday, I ran out of pain meds and the pain ramped right back up, so I called to make an appointment with this PCP again. Had my mom drive me over the next afternoon. She REFUSED to prescribe the medicine that actually helps me but did prescribe the lyrica and make me sign all this ridiculous paperwork because it’s technically a controlled substance (at the lowest level). I started that last night and today I went to PT in the morning thinking maybe they’ll help, when I left I thought they might’ve, but by the time I got home I felt worse than when I got there, so I made a nearly hour long drive to yet another hospital in search of ANSWERS. Not even meds at this point ANSWERS. I was seen very quickly by a resident doctor who orders oral tylenol an injection of toradol and a lidocaine patch on my back where I was having the most pain. I talked to both him and the charge doctor about everything that’s been going on and he then prescribed the same meds as the ER last weekend did in hopes that the Lyrica will kick in and start working by then.

So now, for those keeping track at home. I have had 34 medical appointments since 2/15 and still have no actual answer for why I am in this much pain or why I get random drowsy/fatigue spells in the middle of the day. Still have no hospital willing to admit me and try to figure it out. Currently sitting around with a heating pad basically glued to my back. I did stop at target and purchase OTC lidocaine patches to try and a yoga ball because some of the most helpful stuff for me at PT involves said yoga ball and it was like $15.

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dzpenumbra · 1 year

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12/22/22

That's a lot of two's.

Today was pretty good. I woke up early because the upstairs neighbors were like right above me, I'm pretty sure they have a couch or a table there or something, I hear them clear as day right there most days. To be fair, it's usually like 11AM or later when I hear them, and they have to listen to my shower music probably, so whatever. It wasn't them that woke me up, actually, they just kept me from going back to sleep. Vivid dreams woke me up. Not bad ones either. But I haven't been logging them.

I miss logging my dreams, and I've had vivid dreams like every night since I've been here. Hmm... Maybe that's a new project I can jump into. Like I need a new project, I have like 20.

Hung out with kitty, started the day. I spent a good chunk of the day sanding stones, that was pretty cool. There was a sandstone-ish kinda piece, got that basically shaped... somewhat. And I found a rough piece of amethyst which I got started on, I'm really excited to finalize these amethysts, it's one of my favorites.

I made cinnamon rolls. Good call.

I called the doctors to get set up with a Primary Care. While eating an apple. And I'm blaming my long on-hold times on that, because it's funny. The soonest I could get an intake appointment was February 6th at 8:15AM. And that was a month and a half earlier than the branch a few blocks from my house. So... my plan is likely gonna be to pull an all-nighter and do that. After the intake appointment, she said I can transfer doctors over to the branch by my place. Gotta weed out the drug seekers somehow, I guess? I don't know, maybe they're short-staffed or something.

So yeah, once that's up and running and I have a doctor, I can talk to someone about this bacterial infection that I've had for over a year that didn't go away when I took two kinds of antibiotics. And request my ADHD screening, which is the primary reason why I'm doing all this. But I mean, it's good to have a Primary Care anyway, right? I haven't had one in... like 8 years or something? My Primary Care decided to move to upper management and literally just fucking dumped me. Like... no setting me up with another doctor, nothing. Just... swingin in the breeze. So... I've just... not had a doctor for almost 10 years. So, this is a change.

So yeah, good progress on work and life stuff. Did yoga, it was good again, becoming very routine. Gave myself a haircut. The person on r/ptsd thanked me for my comment yesterday and said they could really relate to what I was saying and they were really frustrated that they couldn't just smoke to relax and get away from their bullshit like apparently a lot of people can. I unloaded a few suggestions for them. That journaling pairs really well with weed (for me at least) as far as like... doing self-care work goes. Doing therapy work. But if you're looking to chill... well... doing that work can help you get more chillness in the future. But in the moment, it can be super intense. So... I recommended a few remedies to find chill now, while the weed/journaling combo goes to work trying to unravel those anxieties and bring a more general sense of ease.

It sucks, because I completely know why people fall into addiction coping mechanisms and all that. Distractions. Escapes. Like... good lord, in a lot of ways I'm jealous of people who can come home and just drink and their brain just turns off and they just... evade their demons. I know, I get there's a massive price to pay for it, which is the biggest reason why I can't really bring myself to even try anymore. But like... I don't think I can even get close to turning my feelings off. Even on herculean doses of prescribed Xanax I had emotional overwhelm. I remember pain pills came close when I experimented in college. Like I would feel super warm and cozy and curl up on the floor on pillows with a comforter over me and play Xbox, and the only emotion was like... stillness and relaxed. And that was nice, I can see why people would want that. But... like... you know you gotta go back, right? Right, addicts? You know you gotta go back sometime... You know you gotta leave the bar eventually. You know you're gonna come down. And I learned that shit super fucking young. Like 20. I was like... "oh this is a really nice vacation, but like... I gotta work on making my default setting closer to this." I wish it were that simple, but I really hope more people can get there in time, myself included obviously.

How the fuck did I get on drug addiction? Oh, the r/ptsd thing. Yeah, so it's weird... when a "drug" doesn't do for you what it does for people on TV. When it doesn't make you just get squinty eyed and giggly and wolfing down Cheetos. When it actually unlocks all your shit and makes you run through a 4 hour emotional/anxious obstacle course. Like a fucking Ayahuasca spirit journey. It makes other drugs start to look more appealing. But really, I think the big problem there is like... what the person needs is a good social network to work through those. The catharsis after the freakout can be phenomenally refreshing, especially when it's not a long freakout. It can be healing. I don't know, I don't feel really qualified to speak on this too deep, though I've done a great job breaking addictions and dependencies alone. But I let this person know that there's sort of a two pronged approach to dealing with trauma - in my current practices - engaging it with therapeutic work in a deliberate environment, and making time to take care of yourself and recover from emotional overwhelm and stuff. Self-work and self-care. Technically they're both self-care, but like... yeah. You kind have to use them at different times, in different mindsets. I have trouble articulating this kinda stuff without using examples, but I hope the gist is getting across. If you've had a shit day and are recovering from a flashback or something, go take a bath, go pamper yourself. If you're having a freakout and you don't know why, and have some extra emotional bandwidth to work with, give journaling a shot to try to unravel that a bit, make sense of it.

I'm done talking about that, I feel myself repeating over and over. I skipped skating today. I... went back and forth on it for a while. I'm not really sure why I tapped out. I just did. Maybe I'm feeling anxious, maybe I don't want to push myself too hard. I don't know. But I skipped. The rest of the night was a late shower, dinner, laundry and just watching Twitch. Which often feels like it's more stressful to watch than anything, I say that literally every time I get back into it. But it simulates social interaction, so it's a really alluring substitute for being around people. And coming to terms with not having social contact until like... the 28th I think? 29th maybe? That's a tough pill to swallow. Especially during the holidays. So. Yeah. Maybe I'll stream or something, I'll see, I've been tossing the idea around.

So yeah, I got some shit done which was cool. Now I'm gonna try to get to bed before 2:30, which would be cool. Let's see what tomorrow has in store, shall we?

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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queenofthebench · 4 years

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10/09/2020

My body hasn’t been feeling very good lately.

I just haven’t felt like myself. My knees have been in pain since May, and I’ve also been experiencing trouble with my period, namely that it will not go away. I know some of you might think this is over-sharing and if so, feel free to skip the rest of this entry. I personally just believe that people’s bodies are not shameful, and that we should be able to freely talk about them without feeling as if they are (*climbs down from soap box*).

I just feel broken down. After a doctor’s appointment today about my knee pain, it turns out I have some minor degeneration in my knee, like minor arthritis, they said. I have to go to PT now to try to work through it. I’m thankful that I can work with someone trained who will help me, but I feel old and sad that my body isn’t working the way it should. Also, I know my boss will be understanding, but I’ve never been good at taking time for myself, especially for health stuff. I always feel like I’m “making a big deal” or “overreacting” because I’m not like...unable to do anything. I’m always thinking it should be worse before I take time off for it.

As for the period stuff, I think I’ve always been sensitive to hormonal birth control, and I just am trying to figure out if it’s worth continuing. I’ve always wondered if I would feel better without it, but it’s nerve wracking to come off after being on for so long. Then again, the current situation isn’t amazing. Lately, I spot almost all the time. Sometimes I will get two mini periods in a month. It just makes me feel so...blah, and a lot of times I am crampy. I just never know when it’s going to break through, and I find that I feel self conscious and not very “myself” in terms of my sexuality and happiness. If it does end up being the culprit, I will probably switch to a copper IUD to not be on hormones, but I didn’t want to just do that without running a test first (ever the scientist). The copper IUD has it’s own set of cons that I’m not too keen on jumping into without needing to.

But again, it’s been difficult to know when exactly to escalate the issue to my doctor. I keep...waiting for something to happen, but not knowing what exactly. I keep worrying secretly that the doctor thinks I’m making this up in my head, or that I’m attention seeking somehow. I don’t know why I think this way, but it generally happens when I try to navigate something about my health that’s not super “obvious”, or is kind of a gray area and the doctor doesn’t have a clear path. It feels like I’m being "naggy” or being a hypochondriac, even though my rational mind knows it’s ok to make as many appointments as I feel necessary.

I know this isn’t rational thinking, but the emotions are hard to overcome! I have two appointments next week (one for bc removal, the other for PT) and I feel like I’m being a drama queen and missing work for no truly urgent reason. I have to keep telling myself that my body matters, and that it’s good to do preventative maintenance instead of waiting until I feel “sick enough.” It’s hard to really feel those words in my heart sometimes, though. I know if it were a friend who were going through this, I would be telling them these things to reassure them, so I’m trying to treat myself like a friend 😌.

Anywho, I also have an appointment (yes, I’m appointment-girl) with a therapist so I assume we’ll talk about these feelings in a few weeks when I meet her. I made the appointment in JUNE, PEOPLE. JUNE. And the soonest they could get me in was end of October. I’m fortunate enough that I haven’t had any sudden downward spirals for my mental health, but its difficult to know that so many people are probably needing help, even more-so than I do, and not being able to get it in time.

But in other news, life is alright. Lab is trucking along, and aside from the dumpster fire that is this world around me, I think I’m doing ok.

If you’ve read this far, thanks for sticking with me and listening to my thoughts. It’s helpful for me to write things down. It’s how I process my inner dialogue with myself. I hope you’re all doing as well as you can during these times, and, as always, my inbox is open if you ever want to chat <3

-Q

#fromthequeen #personal

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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 4 years

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my healthcare provider that is not doing in person appointments has decreed that I’m not allowed to get a bridge prescription even though I’m totally out, and the soonest absolute imaginary PHONE APPOINTMENT they can get me is at the end of the month.

for some reason, the appointment that entirely consists of “yes, I, a doctor, agree to refills for this medication you have been taking without issue for years and years” must be an hour long. and, again, the soonest hour long appointment I can get is a month away.

there is literally nothing else happening at this appointment. it will take less than five minutes. they could schedule me for a 30 minute phone call next week, but that apparently doesn’t count and will not result in a refill.

I spent almost two hours on the phone being like, who can I talk to about getting a small amount of my rx filled until the appointment? I got transferred from department to department. There is apparently nothing anyone can do. They know I’m out of meds. I am out of meds because their process for getting meds is so horrible and frustrating that I, the person with the biochemical imbalance that specifically makes this kind of task difficult and frustrating, did not do it EARLY, because I dread doing it, because it is terrible.

anyway i cried frustration tears how are all y’all doing? yep.

#i hate our healthcare system i hate it so much #this shitshow is WITH insurance #i also hate how all phone calls end with 'thank you for choosing [healthcare provider]!'#i didn't choose SHIT it's this or dying if your uninsured ass ends up at the ER

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dreamsyrup · 3 years

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Soooooooo I’ve got news about my haaaaaaaaaandddddddddds. kinda.

Ya boy went in for a cortisone shot two weeks ago, and instead got approved/scheduled for carpal tunnel surgery on the 4th! But surgery means cortisone is a no-no.

7 days after my appointment, i hear that my surgery has been cancelled bc that surgeon no longer works at the hospital and they have to shuffle everything around. I have to see the other surgeon on staff now. (so does everyone else lol) The soonest i can get an appointment is Feb 12th. Just to talk. About scheduling a surgery probably a few weeks MORE down the road.

Now, I originally called to schedule that first appointment back in late december, when i realized i could no longer bear the pain and numbness i was experiencing on a daily basis. we are on week 5 of realizing we should have called the doctor MUCH sooner.

Anyways when i go in to see this guy i am NOT paying a $100 copay AGAIN just to schedule the same surgery i had already scheduled. (because yeah, NO) I’m going to ask him to just give me my shot, and we can talk about surgery in a few months, when it’s an option again.

#I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE READ MORE FUNCTION WENT

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jadelyn · 4 years

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Ffffffff

So I've been off my ADHD meds for nearly a year because whoops, one of the major symptoms of the disorder I was taking them for is an inability to plan ahead for things like making doctors appointments! And also I have severe phone anxiety and kaiser sucks ass in several ways but specifically they don't allow you to make mental health appointments via the online scheduler at all. (Why????? Like at that point you're literally specifically putting up barriers to accessing mental health care.) You HAVE to call and talk to someone to make those appointments.

So 2 months ago I finally thought to try to email my Dr directly and see if he could help me get around the whole phone call thing. And he did, but because as mentioned kaiser sucks ass they do not staff their mental health services sufficiently and so the absolute soonest you can see someone is about 6-8 weeks out.

And then this morning I get a fucking phone call at 7:30 in the goddamn morning - I wasn't even out of bed yet - to let me know the Dr is out sick today so my appointment, which I've been waiting two fucking months for, is canceled. And someone will *call* me later today to reschedule, thus negating the workaround I did to avoid having to make an appointment over the phone.

Kaiser can eat a bag of fermented goat dicks.

If my employer offered any alternative healthcare plan other than an even shittier HDHP I'd drop these assholes in a second. But here we are.

*sighs* going on teladoc for a re-up of a lapsed Adderall prescription would probably be seen as "drug seeking" wouldn't it? I fucking hate this country and our shitty piecemeal healthcare system.

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sinni-ok-sessi · 4 years

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Transitioning on the NHS: it’s just one bloody thing after another.

So having WhatsApped my blood test results to my doctor at the gender clinic (after two weeks of him going ‘I’ll look them up on our system’ and then... not), I finally got a phone call from my GP going ‘you need to book an appointment for an injection and more blood tests’. Note that they did not actually tell me what this was about and I had not received any communication from the gender clinic since I sent my test results over, so this was all news to me. Note also that they told me ‘blood tests in December’ when I’d very clearly been told ‘blood tests 10 weeks after starting hormones and within a month of your next appointment’. Because god forbid anyone actually read a letter or anything.

So yesterday, having managed to get a last-minute appointment because the person on reception insisted my injection needed to be done by a doctor, I turned up all keen to Get Those Good Hormones (or at least to Get Rid Of Those Bad Hormones, since the injection was a hormone blocker) and the doctor goes ‘uh, I don’t really do injections, you’ll need to see a nurse for this. Also, we definitely don’t keep hormone blockers lying around so you’ll need to get that from a pharmacy and bring it to your nurse appointment. Here’s a prescription for the blocker and the testosterone gel’. OK, not ideal, may have done some angry-crying in the queue to rearrange a nurse’s appointment - the soonest one being in a week’s time. It’s already been well over a month since my gender clinic appointment that was meant to be the final sign-off on prescribing me hormones.

Anyway, I get to the pharmacy, they arrange to order in the hormone blocker, but the T-gel is more of an issue - they can’t get hold of it at all, some problem with the manufacturer. So I go back to the doctors’, half an hour before closing, and the doctor writes me a new prescription for generic testosterone gel rather than the named brand. By this point, the pharmacy has shut.

This morning, I take the new prescription to the pharmacy. They look at it. It’s a different pharmacist than the one who had to deal with me angry-crying yesterday, thank god. They disappear for some time. Eventually they re-emerge to tell me that they just can’t get hold of any gel at that concentration. Yet another pharmacist sticks his head out of the office to say that when he’s had testosterone prescriptions before, it’s usually for a twice-as-strong gel that’s a lot easier to get hold of, but maybe if I ring every pharmacy in town, one of them might have the stuff I’m prescribed in stock.

Narrator voice: they do not.

So currently I’m waiting to see whether the gender clinic will reply to my ‘maybe you could just prescribe me the stuff that’s usually prescribed instead of whatever weird ‘non-binary people are clearly [gender]-lite so can’t have the Strong Stuff’ nonsense you’ve prescribed me? Maybe?’ email (worded a lot more diplomatically than that). We Shall See.

I’m not even surprised at this point, just resigned to seeing what new ways the NHS will find to fail to communicate with either itself or me. Maybe hormones can be my New Year present to myself, like the name change was last year...

God, I’m so tired.

#grumblr #in which I am bitter about gender things #cw medical details #cw needles

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compo67 · 4 years

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A spectacular bonsai tree from the lightscape I went to last week.

I'm so tired. Why am I still awake. I just finished Patreon rewards and have a stack of things to send out. But like. So tired. I drove 100 miles today. Somehow. My sister drove the last 70.

My EDS doctor is 4 hours away, but so worth seeing. He's filling out all my insurance accommodation paperwork and he signed off on the petition to get me a power chair through insurance. I'm wondering if I should call off tomorrow. For at least a half day. I could use the rest, but idk if it'll be covered under FMLA. But I haven't missed a day in a while so...

I got an informal POTS diagnosis, so there's that. I need to add more salt to my diet and be mindful of how I move. We're gonna try a new medication to see if we can help my sleep without ambien. Just another diagnosis to add to the layers.

At least for now there's nothing wrong with my heart. He did say the tilt table test results were poorly written and basically garbage. I'm just gonna avoid that hospital from now on, except my transplant stuff. 🙄

I hate it when doctors say they're experienced in rare conditions and they're not or they do sloppy work.

I think... I'm trying to do too much and it's causing me to feel super burned out. Sigh.

My sister pointed out that I've been snoring really loud lately. The soonest sleep doctor appointment I got was end of January. 🤷🏽‍♀️ My EDS doc said to not let the sleep doctors brush everything off as "you're fat" and to be sure they understand dysautonomia.

I also got a bill for $1700 for the MRI I had on my elbow in august because my insurance company claims the place is out of network. Idk about yall, but I don't have that kind of money lying around. Or available in two or three months of working part time while also trying to just live. So. Idk what I'm gonna do. I need to call on Wednesday and ask if they have a financial assistance program. They probably don't because it's not a hospital. It's too overwhelming to think about. And you know what the kicker is? The MRI showed nothing. It has been an expensive, physically and emotionally grueling experience. I've learned not to go to urgent care, xrays and imaging won't show anything, and ffs find a good ortho.

Let's pray I don't have another full dislocation anytime soon.

My crutches arrived today, so that was a highlight. I fell at the lightscape and bruised myself up pretty bad, plus my knee has been grumpy all week from it. So I decided one cane isn't enough for outings like that. Crutches it is.

I need to learn how to walk with them. That'll take some time. But I'm excited.

I might try and crowdfund that MRI bill. 😓

I just need to go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning. Or you know. In a few hours.

❤

#compo67 #authorial rambles #ehlers danlos life #ehlers danlos problems #chronic illness life #thanks i hate this

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blinkandrevile · 4 years

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I meet my doppelganger by chance when I'm on my way back from therapy. The clinic is in the middle of the city, so it's only about fifteen minutes away by bus and the buildings around it are relatively fancy. The waiting room is a mishmash of businesslike types who're clearly there because it's right next to their offices, and people like me who are broke and can't afford to pay full price for a doctor so we go to the doctors that bulk bill and try our best to get decent medical treatment out of it. The therapist there doesn't bulk bill, but if you get a doctor's referral she only charges $40 each for six sessions. We've discussed a recent diagnosis, but before I could really get into how it's been affecting me it's 11:30 and I'm gently ushered out of the hall. I hear her talking to her next patient as she leads them back through. I pay my $40 and I wish I had enough money to get food. I leave and head back through the city to the bus station. I can see someone walking up the path in my direction. I'm surprised how much he looks like me. He looks surprised too. He's several meters away by the time I realize that we're the same.

He's in a button-down and slacks. Under his expression of surprise is one of permanent stress and exhaustion etched into his face. What surprises me is that he's as big as I am, round-faced with thick limbs. I feel guilty for noticing it. I feel guilty for being that way. I can see on his face that he feels guilty, too.

Our paths aren't diverging. I have to go to the bus station. I want to go home. He's got a coffee in his hand and he looks like he wants to get back to work. With opposite paths we're being pulled together and my heart races with nerves as he draws near. People talk a lot about what you'd do if you met your doppelganger. They tend either towards fucking or killing them, with some gentler types noting that they'd hug and befriend that mirror of the self. The possibilities flash through my mind as the distance between us closes begrudgingly, but all of them make me want to throw up, even the thought of talking to him. I don't want to see this, I realize, don't want to meet his eye when he gets close enough for me to see the colour of them. He drops his gaze a second before I drop mine and we push our bodies to opposite extremes of the sidewalk, my shoulder almost grazing against storefronts in my urgent need to stay clear of him. I don't see what he does but I can tell he's doing it. I can see the wide-eyed panic on his face before it glazes over into dissociation. I can feel it on mine. I'm glad I couldn't afford food. I'm not sure I would've eaten it. I think it might have gotten tainted.

I take the bus home and I'm relieved when I reach the normalcy of my bedroom. The dishes on the drawers are as comforting as always. It's too hot to be under the blankets but I crawl under anyway and I don't know what to do and I can't sleep and I wonder if he sleeps better than me and I play a game on my phone until I'm distracted enough to breathe again. As soon as I stop, I wonder if his dad's in jail and how much he eats and why he doesn't seem like he's disabled and I'm suddenly enraged that there might be a version of me out there that actually got a fighting chance at life and my stupid phone game stops working for me so I get up to make some bread. An hour later I've convinced myself that it was just psychosis rearing its ugly head again, and I resolve to talk to my boyfriend about it and what it might mean, and within a week I'm pretty much okay. I don't book another appointment with that therapist. It was my fifth session anyway. I know I won't have another $40 next week. The electricity bill's coming in soon. You have to have priorities.

It gets worse after a month. The avoidance starts to spread. It's another patch of the sprawling capital that I can't go. First it's just the area straight up from the bus station into the main CBD. Then I figure he must go shopping often there if he has a fancy desk job, so I start avoiding the shops. He probably has the same taste as me, so I keep the same clothes I've always had and hope this coming summer isn't too hot. I get on the bus to visit a friend one day and the two-minute stop in the station makes my skin crawl. On the trip back home I feel like I'm burning alive. I resent him for taking the city away from me. I'm struggling to leave the house. I live so close to the city. It's too close for comfort. I buy a plane ticket.

My boyfriend is understanding. He lives in another country, so as long as I have a reliable internet connection he moves where I move. In the airport, I don't feel as excited as I feel like I should. All of my trauma is anchoring me here, and I'm relieved to be getting out, but I feel like a dog on a chain. Still, it's better than staying. The flight doesn't take long. I'm comfortable. It stops off in Sydney, then we fly over the strait and land in the Hobart airport. Everything goes smoothly. I get off the plane and go to baggage collection.

There's someone there dressed like me, and I swear to god if it's that fucking guy again I am going to be absolutely humiliated. I squint at him - he hasn't seen me, I think - and sure enough, it's me again. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans. It's a stupid shirt with a picture of a wolf on it. I don't own it, but god, I wish I did. It rules. I'm completely miserable about it.

You can usually feel it when someone's watching you, and yeah, he feels it. He looks up from his phone and glances at me then does a double take, and it's incredibly embarrassing to see. I wonder if it's as embarrassing to see how shocked I am to see him. The chagrin on his face is making me want to scream. The baggage is moving so slowly. It's so slow. I rip my eyes from him and we pointedly avoid looking at each other while constantly shooting looks at each other to check if one of us has moved or done anything. I decide as soon as I see my baggage that this isn't going to work and I blow the rest of my savings on the soonest flight back to Perth that I can get. I ask my best friend if I can stay with them and they're confused but fine with it. I call my boyfriend and he's worried for me. I understand. Things are weird right now, but things with him are fine. I love him. I'm back home two days later and I sleep for 18 hours in my best friend's spare room. They live a little further out of the city. I'm comforted by that. I'm pretty sure my doppelganger is the kind of person to stay in Tasmania. Better prospects, I'd guess. That comforts me, too.

A year later, my boyfriend moves here to be with me, and we relocate about forty minutes north of the river. I don't know that my doppelganger thought I was going to stay in Tasmania and moved back here too, back to his career in architecture and what ends up being three dogs in his unit south of the river. We don't end up crossing paths. I don't need to go to the city anymore, and if I ever go further south than that, I'm always driving and I never happen to go exploring down there. I have everything I need. Several years pass.

I'm off to the shops. My husband is at work, and my freelance work isn't due for another week, so I figure I can have the day off. The small local supermarket that I grew up with has been converted into a gargantuan mall over the past thirty years. Whenever I walk through it I feel strange. The very middle of it is exactly the same; a heart of cream and turquoise with polished white linoleum floors. I remember how it echoed one Thursday night when I was fifteen and shopping for school shoes and I sang and yelled and laughed until I realized there were a few other stray shoppers and shut my mouth up very, very tight. It could never echo now. Even at 6am, the whole place is packed. I wouldn't come here, except that Lush has announced that one of my favourite soaps is being discontinued, and I want to go to the store here to stock up before it's gone forever.

I'm dismayed upon arrival to find that what once was a towering stack of yellow and gold marbled soap is now a nearly empty display. There's just one chunk of soap left, and it's relatively small. Probably won't last me more than a few months. My disappointment quickly makes way for relief as I dodge my way through swaths of excited teenagers to get into the store, making a beeline for the last of the soap. Hurrying and bumping people on my way, I finally get to the display. With a sigh of relief, I reach my hand out - but quickly draw it back as it brushes against the hand of another. He has a small white circle of a scar on his left thumb. I look up in alarm and my doppelganger stares astonished back at me.

We look at each other for a very long time. Some teenage hand winds between us and takes its prize. I'm starting to become aware of the looks the staff members are giving us. The doppelganger is, too. His eyes are grey. I've seen that look before, when I catch myself in the mirror when I don't expect it. The whites of my eyes shine back at me like glossy eggshells. Both of us are as terrified as each other. It doesn't make it better.

The intense anxiety of the outside eyes upon us breaks the spell, and in an instant the both of us are marching shakily out of the store and in opposite directions. I'm heading out to my car. I don't know where he's going. I don't want to. All I know, all that can calm me right now, is that I could tell from his expression that this was not where he usually conducted his shopping trips. I knew what he'd wanted was the same as me. I wonder if his dad is dead. I leave the mall empty-handed.

I don't go to there anymore.

#pr

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michipeachiii · 5 years

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I don't know what the fuck happened but I had the absolute worst time sleeping. I woke up cause I started feeling dizzy, nauseous, and weak. And I felt funny staying on my back.

But like when I turned on my side it made me feel worse, kinda felt like I was having palpitations. And when I laid back down because my back was hurting, I had palpitations again, and just felt really dizzy again.

Me feeling dizzy and "weird" has been a thing ever since my accident. But over the past two months or so it's gotten worse. Usually increasing my salt intake, being mindful of how much water I drink, and having Gatorade on hand for bad days has helped before, but I feel like I've been relying more heavily on it within the past month. And this past week I've been feeling exceptionally bad and doing the things that usually helps doesn't work and I'm not sure I know what to do anymore. This is the worst it's ever been and the first time it's woken me up in the middle of the night.

Stretching makes my vision go black. Squatting makes me dizzy. Stretching, squatting, bending over, sitting or standing up too fast makes me dizzy, my heart beat harder, I feel blood rush to my ears. Hot showers make me weak and dizzy and I have fainted in the shower as a result before.

I think this sounds like POTS but I'm not sure and the soonest appointment I could get with my primary care doctor isn't until next month. And POTS has been considered before but they didn't really find substantial proof, but it's still kind of in the air.

#personal #ycp #pots

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unofficial-sean · 2 years

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Depression and Bureaucracy

I love how, like, it’s well understood that chronic and major depression disorders are a complex neurobiology problem, and that it’s capable of derailing a person’s life, yet I’m expected to just shrug it off. Go outside, try a new hobby make and meet friends. As if that will cure me. These tasks are magnitudes more difficult to even attempt while suffering an episode. I’m sure for most people, depression might be something they run into for a day or two after a bad event, but they get back on their feet, and they think that’s just how it works for everyone. Explaining that my depressive episodes last for weeks at a time and good days are brief, inconsistent moments of relief, is not effective enough and doesn’t seem to register with people who don’t have MDD. Depression isn’t just low serotonin. It’s not even a combination of four neurotransmitters being out of balance. It’s far more severe and complex than that, and that’s why SSRI’s don’t always work. It’s still something to try, because fucking hell, nothing is worse than being bedridden for more than half a day, every day, for weeks. Or seeing your friends abandon you because you don’t have the energy to maintain that relationship. Or losing jobs because you just don’t have the strength to get out of bed. I have to try medications. But I really fucking hate how difficult it is to get the medical support I need in this country. I was taking Bupropion for a while in 2020. But because I missed a couple appointment with the therapist who prescribed it, she released me from her care, and I lost access to my prescription refills. That snowballed and I spent the last two years without it. Graduating college, and thereon out, crawling from failure to failure, losing friend after friend, as this disease ravaged my life. There are very few personal responsibility lessons to be learned, here, other than knowing when to keep my mouth shut when I’m at my lowest. I’m trying to get an appointment with a PCP so I can ask them to write me a refill for my SSRI’s. And holy shit is this difficult. I called one clinic, who told me I couldn’t get an appointment unless I called my insurance provider, sold them which PCP I wanted, and then had them call the clinic with a reference number. So I called the number on my providerone card. Eventually, a person answered after navigating a slow automated menu. That person told me I had to call my insurer. They weren’t it. So I had another number to call. This number was even worse! It was entirely automated, and it was broken. the machine is supposed to handle the search for a PCP if I punched in a zip code and a search radius, and it kept coming back with nothing. So I tried to see what my insurer thinks my current PCP is (because it kept changing without my knowledge). I got a name and a number for a clinic i’ve never been to on the other side of the city. I called the clinic, and I was told that my PCP doesn’t work there anymore. Great! They tried to set me up for an intake, but the next available appointment was in April. THey didn’t know what clinic my PCP was currently working at, either. So I said “fuck it.” I’m going to go around the insurer. I found a PCP online who had an MD, was accepting new patients, and looked like they could help me. I called their clinic. And to my relief, the scheduler was helping me out and setting me up. The problem is! She is booked out! Until FUCKING JULY! I asked the scheduler which PCP had to soonest availability to see me, and she found me a doctor with an opening on the 18th this month. Fucking finally. She didn’t turn me away because of the insurance thing. An hour of my life spend on hold, dealing with automated telephone menus, and dealing with medical bureaucracy, and I got a timely appointment. But I don’t even know if this doctor can just refill my prescription! It’s possible. I might end up with a referral, and then I gotta do this ALL OVER AGAIN and ALL I NEED to achieve a semblance of personal, mental stability is a PIECE OF PAPER that I can take to a pharmacy A FEW BLOCKS AWAY FROM ME, so that they can release my SSRI’s that have been sitting on a shelf, behind a counter, that i pass by once every other day when I’m getting groceries. I FUCKING HATE THIS SYSTEM. I FUCKING HATE IT. I just want to be okay. I want to feel okay. I want to be functional again. I want my life back.

#vent #depression #mdd

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