The state of the state. Of me. Or something.

This is all about what's been going on for the last month in terms of my health. There is NOT a test later, I promise. If it bores you, please do skip it. If you're here for fiber, tune in tomorrow (?) for the gist of the spinning lesson I gave my bud M on Sunday night. (Twist and fluff and friction and balance and like that.)

I'm only writing this down for my own records, the one or two of you who are interested, and to vent, because boy howdy, the bullshit.

I guess the whole thing started last autumn. It's a combination of weather and emotional stress (it's like half my family died within a couple months of each other, WTF, you guys?). My GP was concerned because the constant pain was triggering sustained high blood pressure. I saw my pain doc, and she unenthusiastically dicked around with my meds a little bit, and sighed heavily at me. We went back and forth, annoyed each other, got nothing accomplished, and by the time I kicked the flu at the end of January, my blood pressure was back to normal and I was fed up and fuck it, we'd deal with the blood pressure when it came up again next October.

Stress makes the pain worse, and it really annoys me when the doctors who're supposed to be helping, make things worse. Especially when it's avoidable stress caused just by being an asshole.

So, end of February, the 21st, I went to see my pain doc again. My GP and I were poking around trying to find a different specialist, and did I mention fed up? I figured I'd try to force the issue. Yes, I was backing her into a corner, or trying to. Not for anything in particular, other than SOMETHING. What we were doing wasn't working. We needed to try something new.

What I got instead was a flounce that was worthy of the internet, a refusal to ever prescribe narcotics to me again, and a whole lot of attitude. Did I mention flounce? She told me she'd give me a prescription for a different topical cream to try, and I should go to the Interdisciplinary Medicine clinic. And then flounced. In a swirl of lab coat. Like a female blonde Snidely Whiplash without the mustache.

Yeah, fine, I'm bitter.

She told me "if one narcotic doesn't work, there's no point trying another". So not only am I an addict, I guess, but I'm a moron, too? I did a paper on opium while I was studying botany. From an organic biochem viewpoint, I may know more about it than she does. Remember this? Yeah. Not amusing.

Plus, if I'm an addict, why am I not getting sent to a shrink or detox or something? Not even a drug test? I mean, really. If I'm so fucked up I deserve that flounce, I should really be at a mandatory shrink appointment somewhere.

Monday (the appointment had been on a Friday), I called the Interdisciplinary clinic. I'd been asking to see someone about acupuncture and massage for four years, and the pain doctor had blown me off; now as a 'punishment', she'd sent me there. Damn right I was following up.

They'd never heard of me. Pain doc never sent the referral. (Apparently I was supposed to be crying in my beer about no more narcotics and not want anything but drugs.) Right. I talked my way into an appointment anyway. Because finally! It's two days from now, on Friday. I feel like it's a pain control amusement park. I wanna try everything, then go back and redo everything that worked.

Obviously I'm only in this for narcotics. Yeah, I'm still bitter.

Oh, and the topical cream? She never sent the prescription for that, either.

I need to write a hate letter to the HR department. I will just as soon as I can discuss this without swearing.

ANYWAY.

Laid the whole thing out for my GP. He's been awesome. He found an actual RSD specialist - the entire University of Pittsburgh Medical Center apparently has two, and the other one was an asshole I'd met before. (He walked into the exam room, first visit, stuck a temp gauge against each of my hands, told me I didn't have RSD, and walked out. There is a distinct relationship between half-assed exams and 'you don't have RSD'. Plus I'd been sitting on my hands to keep them warm, so the data was worthless, into the bargain.)

Monday I saw the new guy. He and his minion/resident spent forty minutes taking an actual history and doing an actual exam. In news that shocks no one, doc agrees it looks like RSD but wants to do some tests to be absolutely sure before he starts treating me. This is annoying but absolutely the responsible thing to do. Otherwise he listened, didn't treat me like a moron, and y'know, acted like a doctor. So that's good. Also nice, humor does not equal 'oh you must be fine'. Which is good, 'cause the more pain I'm in, the more sarcastic I get. Y'all may have noticed.

Drawback, I'm going to spend the next month getting needles stuck in me, so I'm gonna be real happy. I'll try and blog some sarcasm for y'all , I know you guys like that.

My EMG is scheduled for April 8. That means I can go see "The Winter Soldier" in the theater, the night before, to make sure my nervous system is good and fucked up.

Whee haw. Pass the chocolate.

Here, have some fiber. It's like Valium, but doesn't pop on drug tests.

Ohm.

Oh, and during all this? Kid and her teacher had a meltdown at school and I'm having to do meetings with the principal and other shit. Yeah.



You know, if I could have medical marijuana and unlimited Toradol without getting arrested or having kidney failure, I'd never ask for another narcotic.