Doctor Appointment Update

Today's appointment went...interestingly.

I was running late, so I had to run around like a crazy person. I showed up all sweaty and red, but I didn't have to wait long. The nice nurse took my metrics and then the doctor came in.

I won't say it went well... it didn't go as badly as it could have, but I am still not happy with this doctor. I don't know why I keep going to her frankly. Maybe because I think she might actually be listening finally; however she is a realist. And realists don't see that while they can help with "the status quo", they aren't good with helping people with invisible illnesses.

But she's listening...so I guess that's something.

She asked me how I was, which I told her was a loaded question. She smiled at least, so she isn't without humor. Then I told her about my blood work, and let her know that I knew the blood work isn't gonna tell us anything. I don't know if that helped her listen to me better, but I am sure it didn't hurt. She did seem to listen to me more. However, I think I had to reassure her more than she is reassuring me about my pain that I am not a drug addict, and I do not want narcotics. PERIOD. End of discussion. I literally had to tell her to stop bringing that shit up. I THINK she will let it go now. If she brings it up a month from now when I come back to see her, we are done. Because I think I made myself quite clear that what I did was a mistake born out of desperation. I am NOT my mother, and I would like to kindly stay that way.

We did talk at length AGAIN about my mental health, and while I told her I have some issues, and they exist with or without pain, that is not why I am coming to see her. I am working on finding counseling options, and I told her about the advice people have been giving on that front. She seemed at least somewhat pleased I am trying. She still wants me to take anti-depressants, and while I get why she says that, I don't think she quite understood my avoidance of them. At least until my husband tried to help me out and clarify what I was meaning.

I just don't want to complicate my brain anymore than I really have to. It's already a mess in there. We don't need to add more shit.

When I could finally get her attention to where I needed it (as it seemed I had to reassure her more than her reassure me. There was a lot of, "I don't want narcotics. I swear. Stop bringing it up. Yes, I exercise. Here is a small list of things I do, and yes, I know you want more, but let me fucking go at my own pace. I move slow mother fucker! My back hurts...AND YES, I KNOW MY BRAIN IS BROKEN. THANK YOU HAVE A NICE DAY!), I think then she heard me.

After ALL THAT...I finally got her to listen to my pain issues. With wonderful backup from my husband, who gave her concrete evidence of shit he has seen with his own eyeballs I go through. (Thank you Bear. You saved my bacon.) She was finally starting to understand what I am trying to say. That I want pain management for all levels of my life. And ignoring that I am suffering is not helping, and I mean physically suffering, not just my crazy-brain issues. Or that I'm fat.

*inhales*

So she won't give me a reference to see a specialist, which pisses me off, BUT she wants to try and help me. So... I'm not sure I am getting as effective treatment as I would like...but I'm scared if I go somewhere else I will get less then these scrapes that I have fought for months for.  She believes me that I have Reynauds, however, she thinks it's the mild form and that it's not piggy backing something worse. Which...if you have been a part of my life for years and years, you know this is BS. You know I have something else going on, in the background, that isn't good. Sure, I am likely not dying. Huzzah for that, HOWEVER... I am suffering. I most likely have Fibro, but she won't send me to someone who would do the proper tests, and I don't see her doing them. Because she doesn't think it's that big a deal.

Yeah. This is what I'm dealing with.

She is trying some drugs on me. Slowly, one at a time...

So I am being put on Seroquel (aka Quetiapine) to help with pain management and my depression/bipolar episodes. Which is something. It means we've come to at least a middle ground. It's a step towards progress. My husband was pleased with this, so I am hoping it helps.

I still get to be on Flexeril to help me sleep and deal with muscle spasms.

I still get to be on birth control. At least until I see my Gyno again and give her my fucked up menstrual chart I have been keeping tabs on for months. (that's gonna be a fun visit)

I still take vitamins to help prevent bad sickness and keep me going...

She says she might give me sleep aids and muscle relaxers later if I need more help. So we have options. Options are good...but...

*sigh*

So that was my appointment.

I've got some research to do so I can keep up with this bitch and maybe, just maybe, the progress will continue. I just wish I didn't have to reassure my doctor, who should be reassuring ME as I am the one with trauma from fucking doctors.

Sometimes I get really, really tired of being the strong person. And the adult for adults.