Regarding Pain Management

For whatever reason, this neuron is firing:

Getting lip service or (possibly well-intentioned) promises of help is worse than getting no help at all. Doublely so, if I never asked for help in the first place.

Think or want to help? Then help. Otherwise, just STFU.

If folks aren't loving or supportive or even diplomatic with the things they say, I'd just assume they keep their yappers shut.

Hollow promises are like hollow chocolate Easter bunnies: on the outside they look appealing, it's only after sinking your teeth in do you realize it's a whole lotta nothing inside.

I Hate People

Yes. I do. However, I do see myself trapped by that statement, as I am, obviously, a PERSON. To clarify, I hate people who are lazier and/or STUPIDER (yes, STUPIDER, to drive home how very STUPID these folks are) than I am. And yes. I'm lazy and stupid, but we're talking DEGREES of laziness and stupidity, and perspective, and perhaps self awareness. I know (to certain degrees) I am stupid and lazy; whereas there are some folks who tool along WHOLESALE UNAWARE that they are stupid and lazy.  And to those folks, I say, "FUCK YOU, ROYALLY. SERIOUSLY AND SIDEWAYS."

How might the statement "I hate people" apply to the "Wild Goose Chase Du Jour," aka, the granuloma discovered in my lung, you might ask?   Here goes.

I call my pulmonologist's office to schedule a consultation to check out my granuloma because I am having surgical procedures 7/23. I very clearly stated this, as DUH, I am not going to a pulmonologist FOR FUCKING FUN. I wanted to schedule an appt w/Dr. V, yet he's unavailable. So they schedule an appt w/Dr. L. Brilliant. So I contact my surgeon's office to see about getting the chest xray results faxed to Dr. L., only for me to do a quick GOOGLE NOW, and realize HOLY SHIT, Dr. L., isn't even a mother fucking pulmonologist.

Luckily I have nearly a full month until my surgery, and I'm very glad that I got my anesthesia consult done as early as I did, because what if I waited two more weeks, then I'd be spending the two weeks before my surgery running around, getting agitated and exasperated. I truly do hate people with the stupids.

I call back and was not even polite about it. I railed into whomever it was who answered the phone, and REITERATE I called to schedule an appointment w/Dr. V., who is a pulmonologist. I very clearly stated I needed to be cleared by a PULMONOLOGIST for my surgery, and yet, the dimwit scheduled an appt with an internist. Well, fuck-me-running, I already have TWO VERY fabulous internists I already see, so why would I want an appointment with some third internist, when that's not what I even effing need?

I'm not even apologetic at this point. I'm annoyed because as a result of their stupidity, I'm now enduring second party stupidity by annoying the surgical liasion at the surgeon's office with emails regarding extraneous shit. 

Best part of this story? The payoff? The doctor's first name?

DIMPLE.

How can I stay angry after reading that as a first name?

Putting Out Fires: One Step Forward, Three Steps Backwards

Yesterday was the day of doom. A day of EPIC proportions. I set my all time new personal BEST (if BEST is even the BEST word to describe the day) of trying to cram as many medical appointments into one day as possible. I do this to maximize my time in NYC, as each time I need to see a specialist, it requires time out of the office. 

So yesterday went thusly:

10 a.m. appt w/Bariatric guy in Morningside Heights. Fabulous appointment. Truly uplifting. Only problem was blood pressure was jacked about 150/100? thereabouts.

11:45 appt w/Renal guy  nr. Central Park East. BP 160/103. This is after 10 days of being on new dosage of BP Rx. Blood drawn, urine sample collected.

2 p.m. appt w/anesthesia consult for surgery in July. Blood drawn. EKG done. SURPRISE! Chest xray. Discussions on the assortment of ways I am an "interesting" patient: No NG tube, BP wonky, and will I or won't I need blood thinners post op? Also, the technician ticked me off with idle chitchat asking what surgery I was having, and when I said "ablation," the inane chit-chat went thusly:  

Idiot: "Oh, how many kids do you have?" 
Me:  "None." 
Idiot: "Oh, I guess you don't want none of that." 
Me: "I never really had a choice really. Too  many things wrong with me, and now I'm old. And with my luck I'll be the 1 in 1000 who gets pregnant after this procedure."  
Idiot:  *crickets* 
Me: "Yeah, it's usually at this point people run out of glib things to say to me." (Also worth mentioning, I'm sure this idiot needed to look up the word GLIB to know I insulted her.)

4 p.m. appt w/Therapist nr. Columbus Circle.

By the time the day was over, I was spent physically and emotionally. And all I could do was cry.

Bring us to THIS AFTERNOON. I get a call from my gyno informing me that before the anesthesiologist will okay the surgery, I need to consult a pulmonologist regarding an irregularity they found on my SURPRISE! chest xray. Apparently I have a granuloma in there. I suspect it might be from my trip to India in 2012. I find I get sick anytime we do international travel. I don't know if it's related to that or what. I'm disgusted at the thought of it being histoplasmosis. Gah. Hurry up and wait for the gyno's office to get back to me to see if I can use a local guy instead of going into the city for YET ONE MORE APPOINTMENT. 

And of course, this is on the heels of the other "fire" that was put out in the last two weeks... the thyroid wild goose chase. 

I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm just getting really angry. Not "WHY ME?" but just angry. I just want to get on with my life and this shit is just wasting precious time and energy.

Thinning (of the herd)

I've been on both sides of the social media "thinning of the herd" spectrum this week. 

Just yesterday I had to use the block feature to effectively put up a boundary to someone who had become toxic to me, who had solicited me for advice and support, advice I gave, which he did not take, hence I cannot support the direction he's taking, which is leading him down a path of fail and possible medical complications. 

He's chosen to go for a gastric sleevectomy (100% support the decision; 0% support on the execution of the decision); however, he's on the balls of his ass broke and JUST NOW, three weeks shy of his cut date, he's realizing he cannot afford all the assorted supplements and protein sources needed for a successful recovery, not to mention being post-op compliant. I can't abide that or SUPPORT IT. 

I am who I am. I'm zealous/enthusiastic about remaining compliant and trying to ensure long term success for my own weight and health. I'm direct. I'm blunt. I don't sugar coat things. I anguish over trying to find the  most diplomatic way to convey things, but when something is 100% wrong, it's wrong, and irresponsibly wrong at that. So no, no support is forthcoming. And BLAMMO. Boundary up. Justifiably so. Not just for my own protection, but also really? He doesn't want to hear what I have to say, and that's 100% okay, just don't make me out to be some monster because I'm calling you out on the ASSORTMENT of ways it's wrong. Furthermore, there's no question in his mind as to how or why the blocking took place. 

He said what he said. I said what I said. We're philosophically opposed to what the other has to say. He unfriended me, but didn't block me. I slept on this. I crafted my final thoughts on the matter, which was appended with my usual type of closing statement in these types of scenarios, "Don't go away mad. Just go away." And well, he replied. I replied back. Which then prompted my final reply, "What part of JUST GO AWAY DO YOU NOT GET?" and *I* blocked him. Done. Finito. Yay me, I had the last word. But there's no question of WHY all this happened. No mystery. And at a minimum, I got closure. 

I guess life is like that. Folks drift in and out of our life, some loudly so, like setting off a foghorn, and others just drift silently like a leaf, skimming the surface of the waves.