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I Just Want to Know
Sep. 14th, 2018 12:15 pmAt some point, very soon, I'm going to have to find a healthcare professional with whom I feel comfortable working. Every notification I get, of an appointment made for me by the office I'm currently with, is like a kick in the gut. Only lower.
For whatever reason, it brings me down so badly that I feel like giving up on the things I've been doing for my own health and wellness for, well, practically a lifetime. Because, with these issues facing me and absent anyone who's willing to work collaboratively towards some answers, WTF is the use?
And this morning, I got another one. This one for an ultrasound of my carotid arteries. The stated reason being that I have dizzy spells.
Which I never told this doctor. The same one who scheduled me to be tested for Lyme Disease because I wore a mossy Oak shirt to my appointment. Which surely meant that I'm a hunter and may therefore have been exposed to the woods-dwelling, disease-carrying ticks which are common here in the northeast.
Except that none of that is actually the case, starting with the assumption about the shirt. I know our friend E will probably get a hoot out of this, but the reason I wore the Mossy Oak shirt was that it's getting cold around here and it was the only one in my closet that had long sleeves and looked halfway decent. Jeez.
Concerning the ultrasound, he did mumble something about needing a rationale to justify the test for insurance purposes. But he never explained to me why he was ordering it.
Which, in the context of this comedy(?) of errors and miscommunication, has left me wondering if there was an actual reason, some emergent condition maybe, which he chose not to share with me. Or if the considerable anxiety which I'm now suffering has been all for naught.
In any case, the paperwork for the ultrasound was in my mailbox this morning. And now it's up to me to inform the nice people at the offsite testing office that I won't be keeping the appointment. And that, no, I don't wish to reschedule.
Which, I know, doesn't sound like a big deal and, I guess, it really isn't. Except that every other day I feel like I'm screaming into some infinite black hole that, hello, this is my life, there are things I have a right to know.
And not only asserting my right to be informed but to also be listened to. And to have the final word, in whatever is decided, whether yes or no.
Because, yes, I want to live. But more than that, I want to know that whatever quality of life I may reasonably expect to have, in the aftermath of these decisions, will have justified whatever I--and my family--may have to endure to get there.
I. Just. Want. To. Know.
Otherwise, like my answers on the phone today, it's going to be no...
LPK
Dreamwidth
9.14.2018
For whatever reason, it brings me down so badly that I feel like giving up on the things I've been doing for my own health and wellness for, well, practically a lifetime. Because, with these issues facing me and absent anyone who's willing to work collaboratively towards some answers, WTF is the use?
And this morning, I got another one. This one for an ultrasound of my carotid arteries. The stated reason being that I have dizzy spells.
Which I never told this doctor. The same one who scheduled me to be tested for Lyme Disease because I wore a mossy Oak shirt to my appointment. Which surely meant that I'm a hunter and may therefore have been exposed to the woods-dwelling, disease-carrying ticks which are common here in the northeast.
Except that none of that is actually the case, starting with the assumption about the shirt. I know our friend E will probably get a hoot out of this, but the reason I wore the Mossy Oak shirt was that it's getting cold around here and it was the only one in my closet that had long sleeves and looked halfway decent. Jeez.
Concerning the ultrasound, he did mumble something about needing a rationale to justify the test for insurance purposes. But he never explained to me why he was ordering it.
Which, in the context of this comedy(?) of errors and miscommunication, has left me wondering if there was an actual reason, some emergent condition maybe, which he chose not to share with me. Or if the considerable anxiety which I'm now suffering has been all for naught.
In any case, the paperwork for the ultrasound was in my mailbox this morning. And now it's up to me to inform the nice people at the offsite testing office that I won't be keeping the appointment. And that, no, I don't wish to reschedule.
Which, I know, doesn't sound like a big deal and, I guess, it really isn't. Except that every other day I feel like I'm screaming into some infinite black hole that, hello, this is my life, there are things I have a right to know.
And not only asserting my right to be informed but to also be listened to. And to have the final word, in whatever is decided, whether yes or no.
Because, yes, I want to live. But more than that, I want to know that whatever quality of life I may reasonably expect to have, in the aftermath of these decisions, will have justified whatever I--and my family--may have to endure to get there.
I. Just. Want. To. Know.
Otherwise, like my answers on the phone today, it's going to be no...
LPK
Dreamwidth
9.14.2018
