Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong
shadesong

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And now for the medical update.

I got home at 3ish, 4ish, and it's taken me this long to post. Because when I got home, I was *sobbing*. I was actively primal-screaming in the car - had to stay out in the driveway for a few minutes so's to not freak out the kid.

Have I mentioned that I hate doctors?

I've been avoiding my neuro, and my primary care doctor and cardiologist are good, so it had slipped my mind that 99.9% of all doctors are assholes. But. Reminder.

Patronizing bastard about the weight loss, for one thing. Very much giving the aura of "oh, you silly girls all *want* to lose weight, don't you?", which did not endear me to him to start with.

But he started in with the "does this hurt?" stuff - and oh my fuck YES IT DID. He bent my wrist in a position that... I didn't *scream*, per se. But I cried out sharply, and I started just - shaking. My whole body, just shaking, because it hurt so much. And my voice got wavery. And everything he did from that motion on hurt like hell. And so then he said he couldn't give a *precise* diagnosis, because I was too "nonspecific", because the pain is coming from so many places.

And he couldn't seem to grok that I can't function like this. That I can't turn the key in the ignition. That I can't open doors. And he couldn't grok that, as a secretary, having me there and having me restricted from typing or filing is no better than not having me there at all. "Well, your big project is over now, you said." "Yes, but I still have to type *every day*."

Condescending and willfully ignorant.

So I got a prescription for Celebrex and a referral to a month of physical therapy. And a follow-up appointment in two weeks at which he'll decide to do an MRI if the problem still exists.

And I went downstairs to make the physical therapy appointment and had to fill out *so much paperwork*, and after him doing that to my wrist - I had to stop every few lines and just hold my wrist and try not to cry. It hurt so bad. And they tried to wave me off with an appointment for next week, but I begged them to check for any cancellations, and I was still shaking, and they took pity on me and looked, and I have an appointment for tomorrow.

And then I went to CVS to get the Celebrex. And they wanted $50 for it, because it's not on the list and there's no generic.

Which is when I just started to lose my shit.

I left - without the Celebrex, because I'm not paying $50 for a medication when my co-pay is $10-$20 - and did the screamy thing in the car on the way home, the wracking sobs and everything. And I settled down a bit before I went into the house, so's not to freak the kid out. And I babbled to Adam and had him call the doctor and request a prescription for something that has a generic (they never called back) because I couldn't, because I was still having a panicky shocky thing from pain - voice still wavery, whole body still shaking, horrible pain all through my right forearm. And he went out and got me Advil. Because fuck the ulcer, I don't care, I can function with GI pain but I can't function with *this*.

And it's midnight, and I'm *just now* okay to talk about what happened.

*sigh* Okay. So tomorrow I talk to the physical therapist and see if she has recommendations on how to handle this. And I call Employee Healthcare and request an appointment with another doctor, a hand/wrist specialist. I picked this one off the list because I knew where the office was, even though they told me he wasn't a specialist. I will just have to go to an unfamiliar place/beyond my safe driving radius. And actually, I need to take someone with me, as a patient advocate. And I call my primary care doc and apprise *her*. There. I have a plan.
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