Bad Doctor

Hoping to get a referral to a neurologist, my recent visit to a new primary care doctor begins our latest episode of bad doctor. Though honestly, the whole mess began when the nurse asked about my last menstrual cycle. After explaining to the nurse my reasons for the appointment including my most recent symptoms, I was in for a shock to discover that not only do the doctors not read your file but that they don't even take the time to read the notes concerning your visit. Here is a loose transcript of our conversation:

Doc: So you are here to request a narcolepsy test?

Mel: No, I've been a diagnosed narcoleptic for 18 months. I'm here because as you can see from previous appointments I've had cardiac episodes due to the stimulant. I would like to see a neurologist to determine what other medications I could take as I've been having the same cardiac episodes again. Plus I've not felt good since the change in my meds.

Doc: Does that mean you'll just fall asleep in the middle of our conversation?

Mel: (Can you believe a doctor would ever say that? Insensitive much?) Only if I do not take care of myself. My symptoms manifest themselves as chronic exhaustion and flu-like symptoms. When my mind does not rest, my neurological system directs my organs not to absorb vitamins and minerals, all of which has been documented for the past 2 years in my file.

Doc: So you want a blood test check your vitamin level?

Mel: No, if you look at my file you'll see that my vitamin count varies greatly due to my disorder. I'm vitamin deficient because of it. I am concerned about symptom x.

Doc: That is caused by lack of sleep. I'll prescribe a sleeping pill.

Mel: I'm currently taking a stimulant. I have no interest in riding the Elvis train of uppers and downers. I'm concerned with the current stimulant level since I've had cardiac episodes like the ones before.

Doc: Have you considered it's anxiety?

Mel: I cut my dose by 1/4 and some of the pressure in my chest has eased. With my family history of arterial fibrillation and my previous episodes of a racing heart and pain, I think this is more than anxiety. I'm a type-A personality and always stressed but hearing my heart beat pound in my ears is abnormal.

Doc: Arterial fibrillation is caused by damage to the heart.

Mel: I'll be sure to tell my mother, her seven siblings, my cousins, and their cardiologists who all claim it's genetic.

Doc: (After examining my heart) I'll give you a beta blocker that will slow the heart rate.

Mel: I really don't want another pill.

Doc: There is the everyday or emergency dose. I think you should have the everyday. The everyday is better because it keeps your blood pressure low.

Mel: My blood pressure is low. It doesn't need to go any lower.

Doc: Your bp was 120/80.

Mel: Yes but if you look at my chart, that is high for me. I average 90/60. (There was some back and forth before she finally agreed to the emergency dose and my referral.)

Mel: Could I have a copy of my narcolepsy test results to show the neurologist?

Doc: The neurologist will order another test.

Mel: He will not order another $25,000 test.

Doc: He'll need to see if the medicine has made a difference.

Mel: It is a neurological disorder that has no treatment or cure. The stimulant is to minimize the symptoms. There will be no change in my brain's reaction to it.

She finally gave me copies of my results.

Extreme Self-Preservation

This is a long one because I needed to vent.

At the age of 31, I ran away from home. This decision was precipitated by many factors, but the main one was drama, drama, drama. I couldn't continue acting as guide, savior, bank, and emotional provider. It became too much. As the eldest child, all the rules applied to me and I was taught self-preservation. At the age of 18, I was given two choices: go to college or move out. For years, I felt this was a harsh ultimatum, but after years of watching how my own life has differed from my siblings, who did not have the same set of rules, I now readily agree with the edict. After years of being told, I was an adult and should handle things on my own, I once questioned my parents about why this was the response when I asked for help all the while, I've watched my siblings continuously receive more help than I ever thought to ask. The explanation is simple. My parents always knew I was self-sufficient enough to find my way, unlike my siblings who are so lost that they would fail if left to fend for themselves. For years, I felt like I was punished for not being a failure like my siblings. Though my family routinely comments on how easy my life is, they seem to forget how hard I've worked to make my life what it is. I never had things handed to me. I made horrible choices and paid the consequences of those decisions. Rather than allow my past to be a crutch, I've learned and grown from the experiences. I once told a boyfriend that the moment someone viewed me as a victim, I left because I needed to be seen as a survivor. And I've taken that stance with all aspects of my life, including my health.

Within a month of my diagnosis, hubby and I traveled to Florida to visit our family, which resulted in the latest round of drama. Don't get me wrong, the drama was already there, but it exploded when we visited. There are multiple factors at play: a. one sibling is a drug addict, b. we had an intervention, in which I stuck to my ultimatum, c. this led to much dissension in the family, where I was told I'm judgmental and too harsh, d. the drug addict has begun changing his life and feels I'm the only he can trust because I've been honest about my feelings, e. one sibling likes drama and refuses to learn from previous lessons, f. I'm the keeper of secrets, so I know the truth about the various members of the family that no one else knows, hence I'm the one with all the facts, g. I refuse to give anymore money to any family members, h. I know of certain health conditions that the family is hiding from each other, i. it's always about their drama. You see, I'm the secret keeper. Everyone calls and tells me the latest and begs me not to share, which I don't. Due to all the recent drama and lies, I have lost patience with people. I'm currently not in communication with some members of the family and have blown up at others.

The most recent conversation made me breakdown and state my demands. No one has cared about what I've been going through. In the past few years, I had the uterine tests and procedures, a hysterectomy, a damaged bladder, recovery, tests, and treatments, unexplained episodes and more tests, my final diagnosis, trying to find the right treatment, and my emotional state. Never once has anyone called to see how I was doing. Most of the calls relate to some recent drama in the family. I explained in my recent conversation that I was done listening to the same crap over and over again, that I felt isolated from everyone in the family, and that I needed to focus on myself, which included not accepting calls in the evening cause dealing with family drama at 8:00 at night did not help me rest. No one comprehends that I had a full blown episode after the trip to Florida. That between the drama, lack of sleep, and stress, my body shut down on me. It took a long while to recover and honestly, I don't think I've recovered physically, mentally, or emotionally.

So this weekend, I received a call from my sis, who hasn't spoken to me in months and essentially cut me out of her life. The message went something like this, I know we haven't talked in a long time, but I've made a lot of changes in my life and wanted to talk to you about it. All the while, the tone of voice was the beaten down-trodden tone that said, my life is full of woes. I never returned to the call. This is a first for me. Anytime a member of the family calls, I take the call or return it immediately because in my family, the call is usually prompted by some "emergency." If the message had been something along the lines of, we haven't talked in a long while and I wanted to reconnect, I would have returned the call. But I feared this call would be like all the others, me listening to another tale of woe, where I was made to feel guilty for cleaning up my life, for having money, a career, a husband, friends, and a life. And of course, there would be a complete lack of regard for what I am going through. Because honestly, certain members of my family don't even realize I have issues because every conversation has always been about them. Then I received a call at 8:35 pm on Sunday night from the person I had told I would not take evening calls. I had waited for this person to call me all week since our disagreement. Guess what? I didn't answer. This truly was a first, because I have never declined a call from this person.

Don't get me wrong, I'll eventually take their calls, but at the moment, I am in a state of extreme self-preservation and I come first. I know this makes me sound selfish, but after years of giving people my savings, driving cars filled with drugs, taking police calls in the middle of the night, waiting anxiously for the call that something horrific had happened, watching someone bounce from one abusive relationship to the next, watching someone destroy their lives and others, being repeatedly told my faults, and that my life is perfect and I can't understand those with issues, I've had enough. My life is not perfect. I am sinking right now with my own struggles and has anyone called to check on me or even realized I need help. Well, we know the answer to that.

Stay Home or Go to Work

If someone came into work sick, I would be the first person to tell them to go home and recuperate. Yet I’m the employee who pushes her health to the limit until a full-on collapse occurs. This past week, I have been miserably sick, but I just returned from vacation and we all know that looks bad, so I made a gallant effort to go to work. I kept insisting to Miss Delia that changes had to be made to our website, so I would come in. She proceeded to tell our boss, who said the changes could wait. Though still sick, I came in for my weekend shift because a former employer of mine once told me, someone better be dead for you not to show up for your weekend schedule. My current boss recommended I use some of my accumulated sick hours and go home.

You might question why a reasonable person would continue to work after being told to take care of themselves. There is a reason behind my madness. I used to believe in the mantra of don’t spread your germs or your health comes first then I had the boss from hell who beat those sentiments out of me.

Years ago, I suffered a horrific infection that led to two emergency room visits in the two weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. I had made the effort of trying to come into work, but nearly passed out and was sent to a clinic. I was the good employee who called repeatedly to inform her employer the latest status, including a call from the ER. I returned to work with five doctor’s notes. I should have been protected from any ramifications, said my former HR voice. Imagine my shock when my boss essentially told me I was one step shy from being fired. She had plenty more to say, including giving me a horrible six month review, where I was marked marginal for interpersonal relations, teamwork, and job performance, since my unsatisfactory attendance affected everything. I complained up the food chain, all the way to the county HR and was told FL was an “at will” state and I could be let go for being a bad fit.

A year later, I was still working for the same employer, but under a new supervisor, when I was taken to the hospital for possible appendicitis, which led to a ruptured and infected vein in my arm, plus the i.v. solution used for abdomen ct-scans had been injected into my muscles causing a different infection. I called in, not because I had been in the hospital, but to obtain treatment for the red line infection that ran from wrist to elbow. Numerous injections later, I returned to work, icing and heating my infected arm while on the desk. My former supervisor had the nerve to comment to my new supervisor that I should be documented for calling out the one day. I couldn't believe it as I sat at the desk, obviously in pain dealing with something that could have turned life threatening if not addressed.

I know I don't work under those same conditions any longer, but they have left their mark on me, so it does take a lot for me to overcome my fear and call in sick to work.

Vampirism

Did you know vampires truly roam the earth, hunting for victims to drain? I can attest to this fact, as I've slowly been drained over the past few months. The docs began with some tests that required four, count them, four vials of blood. This was followed by more tests that required another four vials. The following week another vial and this week another. At this point, I'm beginning to question what they're doing with all that blood. Not only are they draining me of my blood and patience, but now I've received the bill. Wowza! Now they're draining me of my money as well. Truly, if I didn't feel so crappy and had hopes after the past few months of getting better, I'd quit going to the doc. And of course, they shave another grand plan for me. The docs want to strap me down so they can run further tests. This should be fun as I'm claustrophobic and bondage doesn't appeal to me.

Seriously?

I have to truly question the capability of health professionals to do their jobs. Without going in to ad nauseam details, I've felt like crap the past year following my surgery. Initially, I believed it was the recovery process, possibly something to do with my organ injury, or some new development. I've had my previous idiotic primary care doc claim I was depressed, which I wasn't. Following a few tests, I was diagnosed with duh, depression. At the time, I thought, no, a better diagnosis would be anger or frustration. I switched docs refusing to deal with her any longer, but never followed through with my symptoms until June when my body decided it had enough and practically shut down on me. I saw a temporary doc since my new primary care couldn't fit me in. Over the last two months, I was diagnosed with low potassium and low electrolytes, except that was a misdiagnosis or a flat out lie. I'm not sure.

I met with my primary care and vented tears of frustration that no one was listening to me and I felt like shit. She seemed to be supportive and listened to me, even going so far as to point out the other doc's misdiagnosis and questioning the tests that were run on me previously. So I gladly submitted to more tests, thinking finally, I'll get the help I need. This week, I was informed my iron count is so low, they were putting me on a prescription. Okay, that might explain one of my symptoms. And they said my cortisol levels were extremely high and they needed to run further tests. After looking up cortisol, I was surprised to discover this might actually explain the rest of my symptoms, especially the memory loss.

So it may sound like things are going well, until we get to the final test they want to run on me. Can you guess which test? I'll give you a hint, I'm still pretty pissed at their negligence and seriously question their competency at this point. They want to run a pregnancy test on me. What? I asked the nurse to please note somewhere in my file/ record that I've had a hysterectomy. There is no reason to ask me if I'm pregnant every time I come in with my symptoms. Trust me, it's not related to pregnancy. Plus, it hurts emotionally to continually be asked this question.

I truly don't understand how they can't get this straight. It's not that complicated. I don't have the organs to produce a child, therefore I am not pregnant. The problem with living in a smaller city is there is only one group in town for primary care services, so I'm still with the same group, though I keep switching doctors. But I have to truly wonder at this point, are they even competent?

Peggy's Solution

In the past year, I've had to deal with my own personal feelings concerning my health crisis and the consequences of my medical decisions. I've had some issues that arose thanks to my surgery that I'm still dealing with and will write about another time. But today, I want to focus on the fact that it's been a year since my surgery. I've been suffering from symptoms the past 6 months of severe fatigue, nausea, dizziness and confused moments. I've been asked the same question each time I go in for more tests. "Are you positive you're not pregnant?" I'm serious. This is not a joke. I'm asked this by my primary care's office every time I go in. I've asked them to note it in large letters for when they open my file not to ask this question, yet I get asked. Here was Peggy's solution to this annoying question. (sorry these were taken with my phone). Vote on which button I should wear to the doc's for my next visit.

FYI... for those who don't know. I had a hysterectomy last year, hence my annoyance with this unnecessary question.