"Give the Good News by Way of Fists"

I've been putting off posting again because what I'm about to say is very disappointing.

After waiting the standard week, dealing with the back and forth with my doctor's office (that required yours truly writing an eloquent "call me back or fuck off" message) for someone to give me the time of day, the following is all I have to report:

My vitamin D is low. Mmmmkay.

Oh, and, my blood shows signs of inflammation similar to that of, and probably is, arthritis.

...

..

.

..

...


.....are you fucking kidding?

"So, did you also find out that I have a belly button that is an "inny" and birthmark that looks like a third nipple?"

(Don't get distracted. That last statement is for another post at another time.)

This is a perfect depiction of why I was hesitant to get into this rheumatologist mess. I think nothing new will be learned. More drugs shoved in my face. Have a nice day.

Don't get me wrong. I tried to be optimistic, but I wasn't expecting a miracle worker. It is just pointing out a problem:

Doctors feel that their patients aren't satisfied unless they leave the office with a new prescription or referral to someone bigger/badder/more expensive-er. The blood tests ran by this "specialist" could have been run, and possibly had been already ran, by my regular doctor. Why the fuck was I sent to a specialist to tell me something I already knew?

No peace of mind was gained.

More distrust with western medicine was incurred.

The best part?

I just received my explanation of benefits from my insurance. Because I'm blessed with a job in a company with rather amazing benefits, my out-of-pocket expenses were minimal. However, if you added up all the "costs" before my negotiated "savings" this lovely little bullshit visit supposedly cha-chinged to a sum near $2,000.

Yes. Three zeros after that 2. Don't get me wrong, doctor with a shoddy medical staff that never calls anyone back, I'm sure you are very intelligent and highly trained in your field, but, seriously? That's how much it costs to tell me nothing? And, we wonder why people get significantly sick once and end up bankrupt in this country...

In other news, I've diagnosed myself. No, not in the hypochondriac, I'm-sick-with-everything way. I just have common sense and access to Google to go along with knowledge about my family history. I'm pretty sure all signs point to psoriatic arthritis showing it's ugly, painfully-inflamed presence because of the parvo. (Remember my post of why no one knows of the shitty that is human parvovirus? Because after six months, it leaves the "Oh, that's just a virus that will go away" phase and enters the "You now have a chronic condition (spawned by that measly little virus)known as XYZPainfulJointsHateYou condition.")

Good news: I've been pretty in love with my life despite all this mess these days. I'm hoping it's not all this prednisone I've been feeding myself. Ask me again this time next week when I take my last dose ;)

Until next time, loves....

The Streets - "Going Through Hell"

Pissed

Let the record show that before all this process began, I was not a fan of dealing with doctors.

I think this is a fact for most people and a large percentage of the commonly known pie chart: "Why Dealing with my Health is Fucking Daunting!"

As per my last post, I had gone to the rheumatologist who conducted further blood work and prescribed steroids to help me, in the very literal sense, get back on my feet whilst we figure out the best course of action. The meds seem to be helping, by the way. A couple of days ago I was able to do a short, very easy hike and yesterday took the dog for a walk! For anyone who has actually seen my mobility firsthand, these two events are huge!

Cut scene back to why I'm pissed.

After waiting a week to hear back about my results, last Thursday (in efforts to save you from the math, that was 5 days ago from this post) I find myself sitting in a conference room minutes into the beginning of a seminar for work when I hear my phone vibrate in my bag. I knew in the pit of my stomach it was the call I had been waiting for yet figured I'd just call them back and find out what's going on.

Let me reiterate to the jury...That was last Thursday.

It is now Tuesday.

5.

Days.

Two return messages left from me (despite their plea for no duplicate messages to which I thought, "Um, fuck you. Call me back." Squeaky wheels and all that jazz, right?)

It's interesting to me really when the biggest critique regarding national healthcare is the fear of increasing waiting lists for care. Well, shit. I have fine damn insurance provided by a company that I work my ass off for yet I still receive no attention.

Oh, and apparently a prescription for vitamin D has been submitted and filled by Walgreens. How do I even know it's Vit. D? Because I had to actually call the pharmacy to find out what the fuck they had filled for which I was receiving phone calls that it was ready for pick-up.

Seriously, bro.... (Or, should it be "ho" given that my Dr is a female even though it's not common vernacular?)

What the fuck.

My doctor should know better than to piss me off right now given that she was the one prescribing the 'roids from which I'm raging.

Okay.

This is ranty.

And, very sweary.

It felt damn good, though. So, if you made it this far into the bitchfest, I thank you. Now, go scream some 4 Non Blondes from the top of your lungs...

4 Non Blondes - "What's Up"

A positive.

I've been telling myself that despite how much frustration, anger, pain...whatever...I've been going through, I can't help but feel that all of this will have a positive spin. It's a weird feeling for me because normally I'm not so "Rain brings sunflowers and daisies, lah-dee-daaah! *skip away through my field of daffodils*"

Well, here is one positive.

I'm writing.

And, I can't stop.

I started mulling over an idea in my head a while back and suddenly I came home tonight and HAD to get going on it. I think it's due to my starting this blog and being reminded of how good it feels to have words flowing out of me crafted precisely how I'd like them to be. Never perfect but always me.

It's a bit of a high, really. It's the one thing in life I ALWAYS enjoy.

It's about damn time I had moments of output! The story may be a bit of cliche, but, so is life.

I'm off to pour a bit more wine and keep going.



The song I'm plugging for this is The National since they have been my soundtrack tonight in preparation for their concert on Sunday with a favorite lady, Amanda!

The National - "Apartment Story"

Sick Body Sick Mind

More blood tests.

More meds to get me by.

Dammit, I hate being right.


"Healthy body sick mind
You're working overtime
Healthy body sick mind
Too hectic, too hectic
Healthy body sick mind
It's just a matter of time
Sick body sick mind"


Skank it out, rudies.


Operation Ivy - "Healthy Body"

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the day.

I see the rheumatology specialist bright and early.

My mindset is a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and indifference.

Excitement because it's a step towards something. Positive movement forward.

Anxiety is over the unknown. Despite all of my research and reading, I have no idea, specifically, what will be said to me about what is going on in the silly body of mine.

Indifference because my pessimist, or as like to refer to it as, "realist", side of my brain is talking. More than likely, it will be months, or, heaven forbid, longer, before I could be back on track to feeling even the slightest bit normal.

I forgot one other emotion. Anger. It's an angry day. Blame it on it being Tuesday morning after a long weekend, blame it on all the work piled on my desk, or blame it on my turtle pace. I'm super angry about this shit this morning. I have all the normal life motions I have to go through today, but it's a rather painful one today, so I get to grit my teeth even more as I do them. Fuck you, joints. Fuck you right in the face. End rant.

Alas, Social D will pull me through and I'll recognize that a beautiful beaming sun is out my window soon enough.

Crank it loud, lovelies.

Social Distortion - "Ball and Chain"