Okay, I totally hit a wall yesterday.
A little history….hubs is a retired Navy Chief, but the running joke is that I’m the one with a mouth like a sailor. Until last year, I was the one with the tattoos (he has one now) and piercings. And the mouth. But I’m a college educated lady, thankyouveryfuckingmuch. And typically I’m pretty good about my language. Until I get pissed off-fa-fah! (Did that come across as harsh? Because I was trying to inject a little bit of humor, but I tend to come across as a little harsher than I mean sometimes.)
It’s been an interesting week. Hubs returned from 13000 miles away, kid and I finished one set of classes and signed up for ASL 2 at the local community college (I’m really enjoying learning American Sign Language!), and inspired by Kara‘s recent turn to fuschia hair, I dyed mine London Lilac!
Because purple hair. And Suicide Squad. =D
So, not a bad week, yes?
Until the end of the week started piling up. And now I hate all of my doctors.
I sent an email to my PCM a couple of weeks ago because it was time for my yearly thyroid counts and refilling of the synthroid, because autoimmune thyroid. Only my endocrinologist has since retired and canceled my appointment. So I sent off a message: I need my TSH & T4 tests and my script refilled, do I need to find a new endocrinologist or can you do that because I’ve been stable for over a year?
I get a message back: You need yearly labs and to schedule a physical here. Oooooookie. Whatever. Baby PCM doc graduated med school in 2011 and she’s way, WAY out of her depth with my case, but I’ll play along. Need my synthroid. We can juggle this.
So I make the appointment and go get my labs drawn and we started playing the authorizing my dose for the “tide over” script I need until my appointment. Irritating, but what. Ever.
Meanwhile, I’m also refilling a couple of scripts from my pain doc because they don’t always line up to fill all of them on the same day, and my appointment isn’t until Tuesday with her. Got one. Requested another. No message back. Ugh. Send another message. Pharmacy calls me: we called, they said patient need to get a hold of them. What? Why? At 3:30 on Friday afternoon. Needless to say, no meds for Xunnie til next week.
In the middle of all of the fuckery, I also get another email from my PCM’s nurse. “Your liver function tests came back slightly abnormal, we need a repeat fasting labs as soon as possible.”
What the fuck does that mean??!!
I email him back: Can you send me my labs? and I’ll be in next week. Response? They’re online, you can look them up.
Fine. I spent an HOUR setting up my TOL profile to get into my lab results. Guess what? Say it with me…..not available yet.
(I kinda snapped. That was me hitting the wall.)
- still have to get a hold of my pain doc and find out why they won’t refill one of my migraine prevention meds.
- Have to find out what labs came back with what results and decide if I’m going to fight with them about it. (This is, after all, the same doc that decided I needed a colonoscopy and a fuckload of iron because I HAD MRSA & MY LEVELS WERE OFF BECAUSE I LOST 15 POUNDS. So, yeah, none of that happened.)
- contemplate repeating the labs at some point next week. But they’re 12+ hr fasting labs.
- pain doc appointment on Tuesday and monthly refills
I also have: kid’s photography class next week M-F 1-4 pm, the stupid physical they’re bullying me into on the 25th, my oldest’s birthday on the 25th, new asl classes starting on the 16th, neuro appointment on the 26th so I can ask her about surgery to remove the cyst in my left maxillary sinus so I can breathe and because I’d really like to prevent me getting MRSA again. AND at some point I need to get my shit together and get the kid’s curriculum set up for the coming school year.
All those ^ I can do. Because that’s life, and there’s lots of good stuff. But I kinda freaked out a little and got overwhelmed by juggling my pcm’s demands, whateverthefuck “slightly abnormal liver function lab results” means, trying to fill my scripts and jump through all their damn hoops and follow their damn rules, trying to get a hold of my pain docs, and juggling doctors, scripts and tests.
I don’t want to do this anymore. Life with chronic illness blows.