Some months back, I don’t care to go digging to find out when exactly, I met with my previous PCP on the same day as a musculoskeletal doctor. I will be doing the same thing my-tomorrow. The previous musculoskeletal doctor meeting was a waste of time, and the previous PCP meeting was even more of a waste of time; at least the musculoskeletal doctor was upfront about not being able to help. What about tomorrow?
What about it?
I have no way to predict the future, but I have two ways I can influence the future. First, I can track the trends on what has happened to make educated guesses about what will happen – if I make sure that I go to bed early today, which is why I’m writing this essay so early, under the influence of one pill of Diphenhydramine, then I will be more successful tomorrow than if I stay up until 2am to wake up at 5am or skip sleeping. Second, I have done as much research and self-education as possible to make sure that I am as sharp as possible for both of the appointments tomorrow. For the musculoskeletal meeting, it will be a quick physical assessment to determine where a potential source of my physical problems might be, which will route me into one of maybe two directions.
For the PCP, I have two questions.
The first question is about whether I can receive assistance with disability paperwork. If this is a no, then I will probably need to proceed with another PCP, because I can’t work with a PCP that won’t work with me – by seeing my physical condition and thinking “no, this is normal.” The second question is about pain management. How can I get help long-term and short-term? Long-Term would be sending my referral along to a pain management clinic with UW Medicine. Short-Term would be figuring out my pain management system while I wait for that appointment. Do I need to go to the ER once every few days, weeks, or whenever I run out of the pain medication that makes enduring the day more tolerable? Without Oxycodone, my muscles become cement and my body paralyzes. In time, that could mean death, so, I have to take this medication to reduce the pain levels I have by the heinous act of existing, at least, until we find an answer as to why this is happening to me.
Maybe there will never be an answer?
Maybe the answer is continued hardship over an extended period of time? Meeting with these two different doctors on the same day a few months ago only led to more hardship. The musculoskeletal doctor referred me along to a pain doctor that I’d seen before at Swedish who used every manipulation tactic possible to try to trick me into buying into his schemes. This doctor knew nothing about empathy toward pain management but knew everything about navigating through my complaint to that doctor’s patient advocacy department resulting in a karmatically evil level implying that the source of all of my problems is my own and that this doctor is a perfect creature of reality.
I only exaggerated a percentage point or two about this pain doctor.
The Overlake Issaquah PCP, hours later, met me with a similar sort of charisma as the pain doctor but instead of being a conniving snake in the grass of the American Healthcare System, this PCP did as little as possible to address my concerns, mirroring the PCP I had previous to this one to such an alarming degree that they probably went to the same school and studied the same sort of “be nice to the patient but waste as much of the patient’s insurance money as possible” techniques. How will tomorrow’s PCP appointment turn out? Worst-Case, I won’t get the help I need, but, best-case, I’ll have been around the block so many times that I can pick up on this stuff faster than in previous months or years.
I used to trust people and their stupid bullshit.
If my experiences over the past few weeks, months, and years have taught me anything, it’s that the American Healthcare System sure says a lot to expect my respect. Many doctors, medical professionals, and others have done what they could to do as little as they could for me while demanding as much from me as possible. I’ve seen doctors that took my co-pay that knew nothing about me. I’ve seen doctors that refused to help, either in respectful terms by navigating me elsewhere, or aggressive terms by playing it dumb and not answering questions about where I should go for treatment. It was a big mistake seeing that last PCP because of the amount of time that PCP wasted of my life by not telling me directly to go to the ER. I should have known – during our only in-person meeting, they started an answered a question with “because you asked.”
If I didn’t ask, I wouldn’t have got anywhere with that PCP.
There is nothing more I can do tonight before tomorrow that will positively affect my meetings, outside of maybe going downstairs, starting up my car, and making sure that everything is working there. I can reasonably assume my car will start, and if not, then another day will do. This essay is nearly done, after which I’ll try to wind down for sleep, and I’ll do my best to try to get to sleep earlier than I have lately, where it’s been about 2am or 3am before I could get to bed. Part of it is balancing the time I’ve lost – two days paralyzed, almost a week in the hospital – to recover myself. I’m nearly there, but I’m still two essays behind. These sorts of things are not the way that I normally like to operate, but, that’s why I had the padding in the first place:
So I could use it in case of an emergency.
|Sources: My personal hell.|
|Inspirations: Wondering if there’s any way through this hell other than working as hard as I can.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Written On: 2022 June 26 [9:02pm to 9:21pm]|
|Last Edited: 2022 June 26 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|