How Do You Find The Right Doctors When You’re Confused

Right now I seem to be getting worse and worse. I’ve been through every medication combination, therapy, and a round of ECT. I am at the point where I don’t care anymore.

Physically I’m not so great either. I’m hesitant to go to the Doctor because every single time I do she focuses on my getting a Mammogram and not what I’m telling her. She wasn’t concerned that they couldn’t find my Gallbladder at the Emergency Room and that I’ve had quite a few severe Gallbladder attacks. She wasn’t concerned that my eye Doctor wanted me to see my regular Doctor because of the pressure behind my eyes that she confirmed after 3 different tests isn’t Glaucoma. She isn’t concerned about the swelling in one area of my brain that was supposed to be monitored starting in 2011 and never was. All she’s concerned about is my getting a Mammogram on my nonexistant breasts.

Since I had breast reduction surgery years ago and then lost 135 pounds, I am flat chested. If there was even a rice sized lump I would know. No one in my family has ever had Breast Cancer. Bone Cancer, Prostate Cancer, Cervical Cancer, Lung Cancer, Leukemia, Strokes, Congestive Heart Failure, Gallbladders almost turning to mush, yes to all of these. My mom had Cervical and Lung Cancer but passed away from Congestive Heart Failure. My dad’s brother passed away from Leukemia when he was 9. The Kidney issues are on my dad’s side of the family but there’s no explanation for them.

I’m in Stage 3 Chronic Kidney Disease and have been having some symptoms that I’m a little scared about. At first I thought it was medication related. Now I’m not so sure.

The biggest problem is my Mental Health. My Doctor sucks. I’m too tired to go through what I had to go through just to find a half way decent one.

Then there’s the medical bills I owe.

Everything seems overwhelming. I can’t concentrate and I’m too tired. I know I’m complaining too much and everyone is sick of it. They don’t understand how badly I want to be left alone. No more Doctors, no more anything. I don’t feel any want, need, or urge to do or be anything. Nothing really makes me feel anything anymore except overwhelming sadness or sometimes anger at myself. I used to be able to push through times like this but it’s different now. Something has changed. I wish I knew what it was.

 

 

Where Has The Compassion In Medicine Gone?

On August 14th my father dropped me off at the hospital for my biopsy. It was outpatient surgery. My sister was supposed to come as soon as she could. My dad couldn’t stay because he had dialysis. I was scared, nervous, and in pain. I had stents put in previously to keep the ureters open so my kidneys wouldn’t fail again. The Urologist was going to biopsy the ureters and change the stents. I’m not good with anesthesia. I was quietly waiting for things to start.

The entire team that would be in the room came over to talk to me. They had just given me a mild sedative. The Urologist is making jokes at my expense. He says to everyone “This one is trouble! The demands she makes! WOW! She is demanding!” At this point he does a little hop. The head of Anesthesia says “She won’t be doing that in my hospital!” The entire time I’m lying there wanting to defend myself but can’t. I found myself unable to speak. The Urologist made me look like a “problem” patient before they even started. I was angry and confused. I wanted to tell at him. I wanted to tell him “Demanding? Your lucky I’m not 250 pounds and a drunk anymore because I’d shove my size 8 1/2 shoe up your ass” but I just stayed quiet.

They wound up taking biopsies from my bladder and kidney as well. The Urologist called my sister and told her he thought I would still need another biopsy where they do a coring of the ureter. So I’ll have to go under again. I had to be intubated which I’m not fond of and they never mentioned. I cried coming out of anesthesia. No one cares and my sister hadn’t shown up. I had seen my mother while under and didn’t want to come back. A nurse had blown a vein without my knowing it. The doctor didn’t talk to me just my sister. She showed up a half hour late to pick me up then yelled at me for being upset.

Why don’t the doctors take the time to read my chart? To see that I am Bipolar and have Conversion Disorder. And also see that I watched my mom die in that same hospital. Why don’t they know the mind and the body are connected? Why would they make jokes knowing I am scared and vulnerable? Telling them the last time to just leave under and don’t bring me back should have clued them in. My sister? She is who she is. That isn’t going to change. I’m alone in this and I better get used to it.