"A Paean For The Weary, A Poem For The Sleepless"

 

 

 

“A Paean For The Weary, A Poem For The Sleepless”

 

 

09/23/11

 

 

To my very precious friends, and constant, loyal readers,

 

As ever again, I must ask for your most kind forgiveness, my sweet friends, as I have been so very tired of late, and from a want of genuine and refreshing sleep, have been rendered seriously dull-witted, and insensate; words come to me not easily, nor can I—with any facility—try to compose an entry worthy of your wonderful attention.

 

Yesterday, for good example, I had spent—perhaps—three hours at the computer, in trying to write an entry to submit to you. 

 

I could not have been but a few sentences shy of completing my entry, when—owing, probably to this dammed neuropathy in my hands and fingers—I inadvertently hit the wrong key, and lost…everything!

 

My good friend and cousin is supposed to visit me, tomorrow, during which time we go-over the mistakes I make on the computer, as well as preparing for me a most delicious lunch!

 

Sometime ago, he installed a program called, “Dragon”, whereby one can—with practice—simply speak into a microphone to have it translated to the computer screen!

 

Of course—dear friends—at the beginning, anyway, what is spoken, and what is ‘written’ are often two, entirely different and bizarre things!  In an attempt for the program to make sense of the spoken word, the results are often hilariously funny!  And, as you know, frequently our conversations are punctuated by, ‘ahs, ers, ‘you knows’, and others; all these things are translated to the computer screen, and—of course—necessitate several editings to remove the silliness.

 

However, friends, since my hands and fingers no longer can be relied-upon to not vaporize an entry, I believe that I will try that ‘spoken’ program to see how it looks.

 

Meanwhile, I hardly need tell you that last night’s sleep was no sleep at all being too full of disquieting nightmares, problems with my nasal O-2 cannula, and the odd wakefulness. 

 

And that—still tired—I awoke to such breathtaking agony, that I gladly doubled-up on my pain medication.  And, while waiting for it to evidence some effect, I got Daisy’s meds ready for her, and gave them to her with her fighting all the way.

 

I must tell you that Daisy seems to be getting much benefit from all her medicines, and Dr. Weston said that—all things considered—that Daisy was doing quite well, and has—in unusual fact (about which, more later in another post) lived four or five years longer than is typically found in the conjugate of breed genetics that makes Daisy the loving, hard-headed, wonderful canine companion she is.

 

And so—dear friends, and ever-loyal readers—I shall close today’s entry by repeating a poem, that—I think—is my ‘all-time, personal favorite’.

 

What it seeks to address is the need for, the yearning, and keening for completely restful sleep, as much for depression, sadness, and the desire—in sleep—to hide safely from the world and all its ills, and the plaintive regret when such sleep will not come.

 

It is my fondest hope that you may find that it tries to address the feelings we all who ail must surely have, certainly, among them, needless insomnia, and the daily weariness that it confers.

 

I wish you a most pleasant, and pain-free day, and a quiet start of the coming week.

 

And, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

" Where Corals Lie : A Rhapsody On A Theme By Sir Edward Elgar "

 

I lie stretched out against the sand, while up above the sky--a lum'nous band--pales leaden at the close of day. Sleep comes not as a quiet slumbering, but as a measured death; I feel each part of me give up its hold on life and drift away. A gentle mist surrounds, the breath becomes a shadowed fog. I close my eyes and go to where--as Elgar says--the corals lie.

My memory’s palette fades, the color die, the silent patterns sway. All senses shade in black and deeper grey. I would go there and hide, a quiet thing, my own Self vibrant with the crashing waves is drawn out with the passing tide.

I settle deep as deep the sea. I downward drift to where the kelp beds beckon me with siren's song along the coral'd rift.

Above, the depth of sea spans all around, a measureless eternity. So vast a place, that I expand to fill all space, and lying there, become the sea.

And swift it seems I pass the night. Too soon I feel drawn up to where the surface breaks, a panoply of tossing waves, and scintillating rays of light. Too soon I must forsake my sleep, returning to a world that wants me not; it wrenches me unbidden from the comfort of the deep and restless sea.

Oh, must I rouse myself, and blindly seek that alien shore ? When I would shun its cruel design, and would at last return once more, to seek my rest among the cool, dark valleys of the deep. And there, reclaim myself, my solitude, my peace in silent sleep.

 

End

 

 

 'Zahc'/Charles

"Daisy And Life, In General: Sometimes--Quite Unexpectedly--Things...Just...Happen"

 

“Daisy And Life, In General: Sometimes—Quite Unexpectedly—Things…Just…Happen”

 

 

09/20/12

 

 

To my very precious friends, and always constant readers,

 

Today I just feel tired; tired and exhausted.  Bankrupt emotionally, and so very dull-witted of mind that even simple ideations will not come.  And all I want to do is stay in bed, covered-up, tuckered in, listening to the sound of my box fan as it stirs the air; it is a sound that competes with the mechanical susurrus of the compressor as it cycles-away to send life-giving oxygen through twenty-five feet of green tubing which is attached to a seven foot long, nasal cannula, which I wear almost every second of every day.

 

 

Sometimes, the house is SO quiet that even the absence of noise produces a perceptible sound that is felt—more than heard—by the ears.

 

I cannot in truth admit to being angry, happy, sad, or really…anything.  Perhaps this emotive ‘shutdown’ is the mind’s way of protecting itself from auto-destruct.

 

It could also be something of an anti-inertia, whereby, when—for example—life problems become too large, or too many, leaving one unprepared, and—consequently unable—to make accurate decisions as a way to solve them…ever to solve them, and…to move on to the next round of problems.

 

Occasionally, there’s just too much negative stimuli flying about.  And so—there being no one or best way to encompass and deal with the unexpected (thrown in with all that is expected, and routine—sometimes the mind—for its own safety’s sake—closes in upon itself, coping, by refusing to consider really anything of moment.

 

And that is more or less how I feel today; this diary entry, for example, has been almost painfully difficult to think upon, or to write.  At times words—themselves—do not look right; they do not sound right.  And sometimes, they do not sound at all.  And so it becomes a titanic effort merely to link them together, one by one, by two, forming sentences, weaving paragraphs, crocheting thoughts here and there into an entire document.

 

Oddly-enough, it is not in any way due to my constant pain, for that waxes and wanes with the hour.

 

But, dearest friends, and loyal readers, I think I can isolate a recent set of incidents that have left me in the present shape that I am in.

 

From last week, over the weekend, and into the first part of this week, my loving canine companion—Daisy—seemed to have gone into a marked state of decline.  I had made an appointment the Dr. Weston (the mobile vet) to come out to see her, but, just before, I cancelled, postponing the appointment to yesterday, as I was not sure of myself, and so often in the past, read too much into a situation.  And I was worried and upset 1) because Daisy did not look good, and, 2) because—frankly, as it was still before the middle of the month—I did not have ready financial resources to pay for her visit.

 

This ‘watching and waiting’ just killed me, my dearest friends.  I felt horrible and guilty, and quite unable to do anything to help Daisy myself.

 

This past Monday leading into Tuesday, Daisy seemed—to me—to have gotten much, much worse; she ate, but irregularly, and on Tuesday—in particular—I did not see her drink any water at all.  I did still continue to give her her medications, in fact, giving her more pain medication, and more tranquilizer to calm her.

 

November 17^th is Daisy’s arbitrary birthday; that is about when she adopted my late mother and me in 1999.  When I took her to the vet, he said he wasn’t sure, but that Daisy might have been 1.5 to 2.5 years old by the time she came to us.

 

My dear friends, life was SO very different in those days.  My mother—at eighty-two—was home, happy, and free of health problems.

 

I was still employed full time, working the night shift at a small, geriatric, residential treatment facility in town.  I would not become deathly ill, and in subsequent lasting and intractable pain until July 4, 2002.

 

My wonderful father had passed away in December of 1998, and mom and I were still grieving his loss, and lived quietly—all three of us—having settled into a sort of reliable routine that, although it may have been clockwork, still, was undemanding, ‘safe’, and secure.

 

That was the effective end—for me—of the ‘golden time’ in my life…or, in retrospect, how golden it seemed in comparison to the present!

 

And while there are many things I have never understood regarding some of Daisy’s behaviors, I think I can aver—with acuity—know when she is in pain, or is hurting.  Often, just by the ‘way’ she would ‘look’ at me.  Of course, I have always take these looks to mean, “Daddy, quick, please come and help me feel better!”. At least in my imaginings, that is what I believe she would try to say.

 

And—over the ensuing years—I do think I have done my best to take care of her, and to provide for her needs. Only time, and—hopefully—a kinder God will decide.

 

So when Daisy began looking especially awful this time (about which, I could no nothing but stress and worry), I could hardly wait for Dr. Weston and her assistant to come to the house to examine my dear, little ‘Dais’.

 

Frankly, my dearest friends, I fully expected that the good doctor would say that it was ‘time’ to have Daisy put down.

 

Emotionally, and without doubt—selfishly—I was torn and upset.  While I did not, nor do not ever want Daisy to have to suffer needlessly, yet, I am too accustomed to her companionship, and, maybe I am—at last—afraid to be alone. And, it must be said that with Daisy’s passing, truly, everyone close to me whom I love would now be gone.

 

And, with each passing…first, my dad, then my mom, I feel somehow spiritually diminished in a way that is difficult to describe; its almost like special parts of my heart have been removed.  Shit…I don’t know.

 

After an almost two-hour visit, and evaluation, Dr. Weston again said she thought that Daisy was indeed on a slow decline, and that—in time, but a non-specific time!—Daisy might succumb to a heart attack, or to cancer, or to a stroke.

 

Dr. Weston did find evidence of an ear infection, and a possible urinary tract infection, for which she prescribed ear drops, and an antibiotic sufficient to cure either infection.

 

She also refilled Daisy’s scripts of heart medication, and for her pain pills, and tranquilizers.  In addition, she gave me three, brand new syringes (without needles), so I can crush the medications, and administer them in a liquid through the syringe.

 

According to the doctor, Daisy’s gait was much improved, and that she seemed to be responding very well to the medications.

 

Last night, Daisy ate better (though not as much as I’d like…and, BTW, Dr. Weston also prescribed a medication for Daisy that should improve her appetite; the funny thing is, is that its one of the same medications I take, only—for me—it is an antihistamine!), and drank frequently from her water bowl, and made a number of trips—outside—to pee, and other duties.

 

And, so, once again, we are in a ‘watch-and-wait’ mode.

 

And, Dr. Weston drew blood from Daisy for a comprehensive metabolic panel, which includes her liver, pancreas, thyroid, glucose, kidneys, red, and white-blood cell count, and electrolytes.

 

Admittedly, none of this is inexpensive. This morning I calculated that yesterday’s visit, plus exam, plus lab work, plus medication, plus two new bags of treats (that Daisy loves!), will more than equal 54% of my next month’s S.S.D.I check!

 

I am already reeling from having been depressed, sad, and weary about my thoughts of life without my Daisy.

 

Add—now—to that my most profound concerns of just ‘how-in-the-utter-Hell’, are ‘we’ going to survive October?

 

I did what any desperate, upper-lower-class citizen would do: I threw all the charges on my credit card, on which there already were charges for medications, physician co-pays, medications (for both man and dog!), the cost of having had Daisy groomed, and, some much-needed groceries!

 

My dearest, truest friends, should you care to (or can stand to) review my diary entry entitled. “Where DOES The Money GO!?”, you will have a good idea of how and where my income ‘goes’ each month; pretty much how I imagine that for so many of you—here at MDJunction—your’s probably goes as quickly, and as well.

 

Strangely, this whole, ‘hand-to-mouth’ shit is something I had never, ever expected, and, it is living (?) at a level of subsistence far, far below what I could ever have imagined it would be. And, I do not think much of anything I ave purchased could be considered feckless, or really impulsive! Frankly…it is killing me.  I am always depressed, and very rarely happy.

 

In such a State of uncertainty, how could any, sustainable joy be found?

 

In the past, I have been both flush, and broke; certainly, often-enough to know that I prefer being ‘flush’!  All my life, I have always valued a roof over my head more—even—than having food in the house.  Especially when I was much younger, and living on my own, I could endure a growling stomach more than I could the thought of having to live out in the streets.

 

Once, I recall an entire year---almost—during which I had NO food in my duplex. After graduation, I was employed full time night shift at a private, psychiatric hospital.

 

Since the cafeteria was closed at night, the kitchen would send up to each unit a tray of sliced bread, lunchmeat, lettuce, and tomato slices, and little packs of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise. THAT, was my ‘supper’.

 

In the morning—after shift—I could go through the cafeteria line, and get two scoops of scrambled eggs for twenty cents, and two pieces of toast, for ten cents.

 

And that...was that.  And I wasn’t the only worker on the night shift who thus survived on the hospital’s largesse!

 

I still can remember when I finally in a financial position to really go grocery shopping!  By then, it almost seemed unusual to actually have food in the house.

 

Last evening, my ‘supper’ consisted of two packs of ‘beef-flavored’ “Raman” noodles, and—friends—I was grateful to have had that; I am not exactly incognizant of the millions and millions—across the space of this globe—who are starving, and have no shelter, nor access to any kind of health care at all.

 

But, my dearest friends, this is America…and please forgive my stupidity in expecting something more!  From myself, from society, from or culture…certainly, from our aggregated wealth.  Certainly from a system I worked in for years, and gladly contributed to for the continued welfare of our citizens.

 

Part of the reason why I feel so outdone, and ‘spacey’ is naturally the concerns of not having a financial ‘cushion’ to back upon in an emergency.

 

Too, it would seem particularly worrisome having no idea how I shall make it through the next month.

 

But, dear friends, what staggers me with concern, and outright fear is: what about six months from now?  Two years from now?  Ten years from now?  Or…until I am no longer able to care for myself, or, until I croak?

 

In a moment of idleness some time ago, I happened to be reading comments on Yahoo from posters re: the ability to buy, maintain, and keep a home in America.

 

As you might guess—considering it was on ‘Yahoo’—that posts ran from the gleefully, self-promoting, to the skewed-political, to the—frankly—unhinged.  But—amid the drivel, I recall a post that said something to the effect of: “I am on S.S.D.I., and yet, managed to save up, and buy a home.”

 

Really, now.  On what planet?  Those individuals whom I have met who are disabled, and on S.S.D.I. are much too busy trying to make each nickel shit eight pennies. Or, for those of you more delicate of heart, of ‘trying to squeeze each nickel, until the Indian on one side is riding the Buffalo on the other!’

 

With the exception—perhaps—of that famous, 10%, who have skads, and skads of cash; old money; senile grandmothers, and idiot grandchildren, frankly, I believe that everyone is hurting in one way or another, and all are stressed, all are confused.  And many a household is marked by contention, argument, or insurrection.

 

I, and, many others like me are just a little bit nearer the edge of the cliff, perhaps.  The question remains: ‘shall we jump off…or shall be pushed?’

 

My dearest friends, and ever-loyal readers, what I would most like to request is your kind comments.  How DO you survive?  What must you live without? Are you comfortable?  How do you grocery shop, or purchase clothing, or other goods?  What are your financial priorities?  Are you in more debt than you can presently pay off in a month?  Six months?  A year?  What have you given up?  What have you retained?  Are you happy??????????

 

I very, very much rely upon your kind comments for guidance, direction, advice, possible solutions, or ways and means that—perhaps—have not occurred to me.

 

For now…my dear Daisy is holding her own, but—clearly—we cannot sustain many more vet visits at this price.

 

And…we still have the remainder of September to go through until the 3^rd, of October, when—once again, my little, S.S.D.I. check will arrive.

 

As always, I wish for you wonderfully pleasant, and balmy days, able to enjoy the weather as we move further into Autumn.

 

I wish you be in full-surrounded by friends and family members who love and treasure you for who you are.  I wish you safety, and security, and that your goods be plenty, and your tables full to overflowing.

 

I wish for you golden afternoons, free from worry or despair. I wish you be able to have ‘fun’ and enjoy life in full measure.

 

I wish you quiet, peaceful nights.  Freedom from pain or weariness, but—rather—to a soft dreaminess that comforts.  And a night of blissful and restorative sleep…as ever watched over, and kept safe by gentle angels.

 

I thank you, my dearest, dearest friends, and think of you often, and fondly!  I am ever grateful to you, and count you as one of my greatest blessings!

 

And, please always know that I love you very dearly!

 

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"Newly Diagnosed? Referred To A 'Specialist'? Some Things you NEED TO Know To Help You Find The Best Provider For The Best Care Possible!"

Newly Diagnosed? Referred To A ‘Specialist’?  Some Things You NEED To Know To Help You Find The Best Provider For The Best Care Possible!”

 

 

09/16/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and as ever, kind, and loyal readers,

 

Earlier—today—I happened to chance-upon, read, and respond to a discussion thread by a new member to MDJunction, ‘JJ351’, who inquired how to find a specific Primary for treatment.

 

My response—as is now, quite typical, was long…perhaps, even overly so. But in thinking about my response, I thought, subsequently, to use it as today’s diary entry, for all of us have often had to find Providers, or, ‘Specialists’ for our beginning, or, continued care.

 

And, how many times have we had to seek such care-givers and such care, with scarcely a clue as to who might be out there, how will we ‘feel’ about them, and whether they are readily available, and able to administer to us the very best of care?

 

For those who have insurance besides Medicare, and/or Medicaid, frequently, one is forced to choose a Provider from a list of Plan Providers, which are listed County, by County, often, accordingly to specialties.  And after looking over what may be a very short list (as one—for example—does not have to want to drive three hours, out of one’s home County, just to see a Provider whose specialty is on the plan’s list, one is then forced to make a decision—really—based not on quality, but on location!

 

But then, out of those who remain, how can one choose the best Provider to receive the best care possible?

 

While it should never become a ‘guessing game’, all too often, it is made to be, when one seeks a Provider for the very first time, or needs specialized care.

 

In replying to ‘JJ351’s’ query, I hope that—in presenting it to you, my dearest friends—my response may prove to be ever of some, small help to you!

 

 

 

Dear new friend,'JJ351',

Welcome to 'MDJ'!

I agree with both, 'redhairali', and, 'mumeva', and also regret that--as I live in Florida--I cannot come up with any possible referrals for a 'Rheumy' where you live.

Perhaps you might try calling a couple of hospitals near you, to see if they offer a free, physician's referral line, or directory.

I suggest this (rather than blindly poking-through a telephone book), as you might be able to obtain much, valued information about a particular Provider that I feel is vitally important, even before setting up your first visit.

Where possible:

1)           Where is the doctor's office located?  While this sounds stupid, a live person at a directory can often tell you--based on miles, or landmarks--where the office is in relation to where you live.

 

This will first give you an idea how many Providers there are, and how far or near they are to you. Depending upon your source of transportation and/or your toleration of possibly heavy traffic, this information may help narrow-down your search.

2) How old is this doctor? Sometimes your level of care may be influenced by how experienced a Provider might be or, possibly, how knowledgeable or familiar they are with current treatment modalities.

3) How long has this Provider been in practice? You want stability, and reliability; someone who has been practicing (in the same location/the same STATE) for a while; they are more likely to have an established patient base, thus being more familiar with a wide array of patients, stages of illness, treatment methods.

4) Does the Provider in question have admitting privileges to particular hospital near you, OR, to any other, local hospital, say, within County? Should you have to be admitted to hospital, you'll want your Provider to be able to see you, evaluate you there, and possibly work with the admitting physician (who may only be an internist, or a hospitalist, only vaguely familiar with your diagnosis, and how it may impact the reason for your hospital admission.

5) Very, very important: is your potential Provider 'Board Certified' in his or her chosen field of treatment? Ignore terms such as 'Diplomat’ of, as that tells you nothing.

Personally, I insist that my potential Provider has 1) Passed his or her State boards to be able to practice medicine in my State, and 2) they have to be Board Certified in their field of treatment. For example, I once rejected out of hand, a possible Pain Management Provider, who was only Board Certified in Urology!!!!!!!!

'JJ351', since the evaluation of, and treatment of such conditions as Lupus (or, SLE), fibromyalgia, or any of the autoimmune conditions such as rheumatoid arthritis, connective tissue disorder, etc., is still so highly specialized, you'll want a Provider very much experienced in your condition so as to be able to treat you more effectively with specific target medications, and how these medications might interact with other medication you may be taking, ESPECIALLY, signs and symptoms of possible adverse reactions or allergies.

6) Whenever possible, I also want to know, 1) where the Provider attended medical school, and, 2) where did the Provider do his or her internship. I find THIS to be of importance as if a potential provider went to medical school in say, the Bahamas, or Grenada, and then, may have interned in some back-water hospital no one has ever heard of.

For my 'money', and for the much-hoped for successful treatment of my conditions (please review my 'profile', here at MDJunction, to see what my illnesses are), personally, I feel better if a Provider has attended a better-known medical school, and has interned at a hospital, whose name I can recognize.

'JJ351', after you have all that, before you attend your first, ever visit with a Provider, I suggest you telephone his or her office first. This will give you an idea of, 1) which insurances are accepted, and which are not; does the Provider accept Medicare (and, Medicaid), if appropriate, and if so, do they accept a Medicare assignment for services rendered?

This is very important, as if they do accept assignment, you will generally pay nothing, otherwise--on Medicare--you will be responsible for paying 20% of any charges accrued. And, believe me, this 20%'s worth can often add up to a LOT of cash YOU will have to pay, at once, or--as agreed to be repaid--over time.

 And once you have set up a repayment plan, you pretty much have to stick with it. Ignoring the Provider's bills will get you turned over to a collection agency, and--trust me--they can be brutal, AND, doing so will wreck your credit!

In calling the office, I would also ask what the basic office visit fee is. That way, you'll pretty much know what the initial charges will be, and whether you may need to bring your checkbook along, or cash.

7) Lastly, before you actually see anyone, I urge to find out and call your State's Office Of Medical Quality Assurance. Look in the telephone directory, or, perhaps go on-line for their phone#, where you will want to speak with an actual, human person!

 By calling, you'll be able to find out if your potential Provider has ever been brought before the A.M.A. for accidents, serious errors in judgment, malpractice suits ( either in the past, or on-going), sanctions by the A.M.A. or the State version of same. This last would make or break it for me. And should there have been any complaints, or--for example--has the Provider in question been moving from State to State to practice: if so, maybe a Google search will uncover the reason why.

And--frankly--'JJ351', I would not ever see this Provider, even if they were the only one in town for my complaint; I'd arrange--somehow--to go to the next town, or a larger metropolitan area, where there would be more choices, regarding your illness.

 

Then, 'JJ351', your tasks are not quite completed, yet.

 

Say, everything has checked out O.K., and you've set up an appointment to see a Provider. Be sure to bring along:

1) Your driver's license, or State I.D.

2) Where applicable, your insurance card, or your Medicare card. And, if you have one, your Medicaid card. All should be current.

3) By all means, bring along a typed or carefully printed copy of the COMPLETE list of any medications that you are currently on, listing the amount you are taking, how often, and why, as well as who prescribed it, and, for what reason. Vital to list are all allergies to medications, food, antibiotics, everything, and to what degree you are allergic.

List all previous hospitalizations, surgeries, emergency room visits, when and why.

Also list--separately--all Providers you are currently seeing, why, and for how long.

And, 'JJ351', when you've made up this list, it is always wise to keep copies of it:

A) Several, to give to each Provider, revising as necessary.

Keep a copy where you keep your medications; should you ever need to call '911', to have an ambulance come and take you to an emergency room, valuable time is wasted if the paramedics have to stop, and look for, and write down, everything that you may be on

Always dispose of medication you have, but are no longer using; DON'T keep them near your regular meds. And NEVER flush unused medications down the toilet!  As I was most curious, I telephoned a local pharmacist on medication disposal. She told me to wrap the medications separately, and then place them in a bag with ‘undesirables’, such as kitty litter, or coffee grounds.

C) Keep a copy in an envelope in the glove box of your car. Should an accident occur, your medication list will be ready.

D) Keep a copy of your med. list in your wallet at ALL TIMES! For all of the above reasons.

E) Finally, just in case, I would give a copy to a very trusted friend; again, an event may occur where you will not be able to speak for yourself.

With that list, 'JJ351', I would include summaries of recent tests, lab work, and evaluations by other Providers; you will first have to sign, ‘Release Of Information’ forms at each Provider in question. This will help with your initial assessment with your new Provider, and will also show them that you mean to stay on top of things!

And now, 'JJ351', you are at your new Provider's for the first thing. The receptionist or nurse will ask you for all your insurance information, and the list of your medications; you will also have--on hand--copies of any prior treatment, lab results, information that will help you and your Provider enormously in getting off on the right foot.

Expect no miracles on your very first visit. You are there to hopefully establish a vitally important ethical, responsible, and therapeutic dialogue with your new Primary; first impressions DO matter. See if you can establish some sort of rapport with him or her. You want to demonstrate that you are very 'proactive' (not, snotty or demanding) about your own care, and you want your Provider to listen to you, and show concern for your welfare, and for your dignity, and a hoped-for effectiveness in treatment.

If you find you are being ignored, or cut off, or spoken dismissingly to, or are treated not like a person, but as a number, or as a 'disease', please Do keep the following in mind:

There are some Providers who are charming, but who may be incompetent. Conversely, some Providers may be lacking in people skills, but who are excellent therapists, and diagnosticians. Still, I firmly believe that--especially for the duration of your care--some, successful middle ground should be arrived at, wherein the Provider is friendly, kind, concerned, AND an excellent care-giver!

Some slight signs to beware, and to take note of:

1) An empty waiting room (does this Provider see many clients?)

2) A jam-packed waiting room (does this Provider double-book, or, triple-book patients?). That CAN indicate that you're just a number, that your rights do not matter, or, that the care you get may be insufficiently brief, rushed, inadequate, or pushed-along.

Note: I once went to a 'Specialist', a Provider I had never seen before. I waited almost four hours in his crowded waiting room, and then, an hour+ in the examination room.

 When the doctor breezily entered the room, he ignored me for the most part, and spent--perhaps 20 minutes--doing a routine procedure. I was also not taken with his personality. And—frankly-- his nurse seemed to be scared shitless of him!

While I was waiting to be 'shown the door', I found him five feet away from me dictating his notes of my visit, into a small, hand-held tape recorder. Mindless of my being there, he negligently continued, speaking of a subject (possible cancer!), that he had not mentioned to me about in the exam room.

At that point, I blew a major gasket, and--frankly--told him off, loud, long, and to the point. Had I gotten any more vociferous, I imagine he would have has his staff call the police. (So, 'JJ351', you DO want to be careful in venting your feelings!)

Of course, I never, ever went back to see him, AND, I told everyone I knew to not go!

And...it turns out that I was not incorrect in my perception that he was a compete D***, as, when I happened to be speaking of my visit to a dear, dear friend of mine (who is heavy), I found out that she—too—had once gone to see him. But when he saw her in his waiting room, he speculated (loudly) whether--upon her sitting down--she would not break any chair in his waiting room. My friend left his office in tears, not having even been seen by him for her complaint.

Anyway, 'JJ351', I know I have gone on overlong, but as you are most recently diagnosed, these are things I feel you need to know. That everyone needs to know!

 

And please always remember, my very dearest friends, that, in addition to excellent care, availability, and success of treatment, you want your care-giver to consider you as a person!  Your needs. Your goals.

You want a Primary who goes a little further, in consideration of your physical, mental, and spiritual needs as well.

 

And while your care-giver need not be a Mother Theresa, I would insist that they be human beings.

It can only make you a better, more informed patient, able to seek, and receive the very best possible treatment from your Provider.

 

And please always keep in mind that your relationship is not a friendship, a marriage, or a lifetime commitment!  If at any time your Primary ceases to be of benefit to you, you have the ability, the justification, the right, and the duty to look elsewhere.

With your most kind permission--I would very much like to use this response in my diary, today.

I hope I may have proved to be of some help!

Please do take care, "JJ351' !

 

 

And to my very dear, and wonderful friends, and constant readers, please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles