[Tripping On…] Believe My Pain

I think I am genuinely starting to hate doctors now. The way they act like they want to help, but don’t end up helping at all is contemptible. Why do we let doctors get away with this? Aren’t we supposed to trust in them that they will help us recover? I hate my current situation. I hate that I am in pain from the moment I wake up until I go to bed. It’s unnecessary.

And yet, no doctor seems interested in helping me get better.

After surgery, I mentioned that I was still having spine and tailbone pain, so the spine doctor sent me to the pain management doctor and the sports medicine doctor. I met with the pain management doctor today and he referred me over to the sports medicine doctor. He wanted to do an in-person evaluation today, for what reason, I’m not sure, but the only action he did was to refer me to the sports medicine doctor. I don’t know how I’ll be able to do any sort of physical recovery when every single fucking action I do is painful.

Sitting, standing, existing; it’s all painful; there is no relief.

I even told the doctor that it seemed like it was difficult and that he didn’t believe that I was in pain. He assured me with a sort of practiced smile that he did. I don’t know how much of this is performance art and how much of this is science anymore. I don’t know what to do anymore. I suppose I have to wait for the sports medicine appointment next week to find out what happens next. There’s no point in trying to find another pain management doctor at this point because it’ll be the same thing.

There’s going to be no relief for me from this pain.

I fear that when I go in next week, it’s going to be the same sort of story. It’s going to be a matter of being told to do things that are currently impossible for me, to buck it up, to be a champ, to try harder, and that if I just try hard enough and if I believe in myself, then I’ll start to feel better. Because that’s the thing about this conversation I had today. At one point, it became about depression. This doctor asked if I had taken Amitriptyline. I asked if that was the SSRI, and after he said yes, I said that SSRIs don’t help me and make me feel terrible.

Otherwise, it sounds like he has no other options.

I don’t think he’s happy that I still had any Oxycodone to take from my post-surgery painkillers, but what other option do I have? He believes there’s an epidemic of opioid use, so he believes that it’s not good to prescribe. I can agree with that, but I don’t know what else to do at this point. What kind of life can I live at this point where I am in constant pain almost all of the time? If a medicine can provide temporary relief, then I don’t know. My tailbone really hurts right now, but more so than that, my morale hurts. I suppose I had done what I said I wouldn’t do and that was trust in this doctor and trust that he had my best interest at heart.

It’s no one’s fault but mine that I still trust in the American Healthcare System.

Today was my lowest point yet. I hate today. I hate this feeling. I hate that a doctor like that can act like we’re pals and act like he’s got my best interests in mind when all he did was refer me to another doctor. If he truly did believe that I was in pain, as I told him to the best of my ability after he did his physical and after we talked, then he might have done more than just that. He might have tried to come up with an option or two more than deferral. That’s no treatment option. I can’t go to a pharmacy to get a prescription for Deferral or do anything to get my pain addressed with Deferral. It’s just an excuse.

So I wait until next week with this increased pain for doing the doctoral acrobatics.

I had to switch out of my pajamas into clothes, I had to go drive over to his office, I had to chance into his scrub-shorts, I had to sit there on that patient table, I had to advocate for myself like my life depended on it because it seemed like there was no alternative, then I had to accept his deferral news, put on my pants, drive home, and switch into my pajamas. What a terrible life I have to endure. I suppose if there’s any positive through all of this, it’s that if I am starting to lose my trust in the oh, so sacred profession of doctors, then I won’t be throwing my trust around to others as easily anymore. If there are those who try to trick and deceive me, I think I will be less trusting of individuals in general now, which, may close me off, but hey, I’ve been trusting of enough people in life up until now and the results have been generally disappointing.

Trust but verify will take on a new meaning for me soon.

That’s the sort of motto that my career has taken, where, in technical support, you might trust the individual on what they’re saying, but you want to verify it as well. I suppose if I am too guarded, then I will become like this pain management doctor today who did not actually help me out at all. So being less trusting of others might backfire on me. I don’t know. I just wish that there was something – anything – that could be done to help me feel better today.

This is the closest I’ve been to getting liquor in years.

Endtable
Quotes: None.
Sources: My personal experiences.
Inspirations: Writing about my stupid life.
Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.
Picture: Template
Written On: 2020 November 06 [1:17pm to 1:36pm]
Last Edited: 2020 November 06 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]

 

My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.