It’s Been Too Long

It’s Been Too Long

A few hours ago, I was raging over a message my primary doctor sent me through the patient portal saying she had been “lenient” with me about my “situation” and refilled my thyroid medication as requested but that I was putting her professionally at risk because most patients are seen every 3-6 months.

Guess that whole “I’m here to serve you” spiel I got from her on the first visit was just bullshit? I don’t know. I thought I was good at seeing this stuff coming. Maybe the anxiety work lowered my defenses.

Maybe she’s just a jerk.

I am proud I didn’t reply “See you next Tuesday” but the thought did occur to me. I don’t pretend to be an angel.

Instead, I thanked her and replied curtly about my debilitating “situation.” 

I’ve learned doctors and bosses don’t like curtness, but I’m pretty sure they’d like what I am really thinking even less. So I self-edit.

But the telehealth solution posited in her message isn’t much of a solution to me. Last time I waited to be contacted for one scheduled with the NP, it never happened. I waited by the phone and ultimately never received any care at all.

I feel like there is a problem, but it’s not me.

Now I’m going to be hunting for a new primary doctor and looking into in-home care in case this bedridden thing isn’t as temporary as I keep hoping. Hooray!

If I were to breakdown the drama in the most generous way possible, I would assume my primary was under the impression I possessed knowledge I didn’t. 

Like maybe talking to four different people, not including the pharmacist, was a game of telephone waiting to happen and she thought I already knew the oncologist’s labs were different than what she ordered.

Or maybe she doesn’t know that every time a patient calls the office they’re greeted by a robot telling them to have the pharmacy contact them about refills and use the patient portal for communication.

Nevermind that this is a med I’ve been on for 25 years, and it’s not a controlled substance. I’m probably trying to get away with… something?

So let’s not ask questions about why I am not making my appointments. Let’s assume I am trying to get you, primary doctor, to do something you have previously explained is a bad idea or one that causes you some concern. Let’s describe you as “lenient” like you are a judge doling out a sentence and I have no idea what my body’s limits are.

Like I said: miscommunication is my most generous take. And even that is not enough to get me to stick it out with her. If communication at the doctor’s office is that disjointed, it won’t be anything but extra work for me going forward.

I’m not interested.

You might also like: 7 Signs of a Bad Doctor

Inktober Zentangle Patterns for 2024 & Stuff

Inktober Zentangle Patterns for 2024 & Stuff

It’s Inktober, y’all! I’m not directly participating this year, but I’m watching YouTube videos, as usual, from other Certified Zentangle Teachers while they complete the Inktober Zentangle prompts for 2024 as compiled by Stephanie Jennifer, a CZT based in Singapore.

I have little control over my right hand and it is extremely weak, so holding a pen or pencil is not something that brings me comfort and calm right now. (I can just barely wield a fork to eat, and I prefer to stuff my face with handheld food.)

I still have hope for one day, though.

I believe this is related to the brain tumor, I don’t think it’s caused by the tumor. My ability fluctuates, indicating the problem is with an irritable nerve that likes to stop innervating muscles with overuse. (Think about stuff downline occasionally falling asleep below the neck and how neck and shoulder tension from anxiety probably exacerbate that.)

Mom usually helps me fill out forms, and I do my best to keep my signature identifiable for the bank and voter registration and whatnot, but it ain’t what it used to be.

My left arm burns with pain. I’ve dealt with some form of this issue since the craniotomy in 2017. There’s a pinched nerve in my neck that brings with it delightfully disabling pain.

After brain surgery the neurosurgeon was like “Damn, those were some neck muscles.”

They haven’t relaxed once in probably 10 years. Would PT have helped? Maybe, but I was on chemo and radiation and throwing up almost immediately following the biopsy. Physical therapy was recommended then, but it never happened. I have limits.

I will likely have to relearn to draw if I ever figure out a way to look down at my hand again without shit spinning, but maybe I won’t mind videoing that process. I think I can be okay with jittery lines if I can just hold a Micron again.

For now though, I have to be careful and use my arms less. Or else I risk extreme pain on top of everything else.

Hmm. Maybe I should sling my affected side? To protect it from sudden, thoughtless movements? I wish I could just afford to try shit until I find something that helps, but alas!

At any rate, I was thinking of doing a blog post on Zentangle bookmarks, but I’m putting that off. There’s plenty going on with Inktober. I need a rest, and I want to enjoy what I can without making extra work for myself.

PS: There’s a new WYGB chapter coming to Substack today.

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