Folks,
I try to reach and connect with my professors. My doctors, and professionals. Them who are a part of and important pieces to my Better Health Team. These are the crème de Le crème of health care professionals. My doctors and their staff, and I am well aware these clinic are very well paid by my insurance, by my long term disability insurance, and cash money from out-of-pocket. Shoot, I have even had one of my most close to me, not knowing their clinic sent me to collections. For shits sake. Where am I to pull money from? I have even exhausted my little collection of a few hundred dollars in two dollar bills and dollar coins to pay medical bills and groceries. I have had to take from a 401K so we know how that plays. The damned government gets a cut. I have always been passionate about my relationships with my doctors and their clinics. Their associates are all members of my Better Health Care Team. I mean, even with all of our vendors, we carry a responsibility to resolve our debts, but Mystify, there's only that much money in my life. Our lives. My Bride Botswana and I. My Kin Folk, my Kindred Ones, and Friends, this is something that I feel absolutely necessary to speak about, share and talk about to get this shit off my chest and remove the gunk that is getting so complicated it is choking my breath from my lungs and chest. Then tonight my dearest spouse Botswana asks me, why are you so troubled? what is bothering you babe? Why are you breathing so hard? Oh my dear Babe, I'm so sorry. Well God, you know Sir, it's like this. I have become majorly, with full reality concerned about a couple of incidents I have had over the last year or so, when my Neurological Pain professor came into my life, she became a part of my team. She-With-Many-Names and her sometimes very disrespectful staff. Yes, they work hard and yes, I see their work load - I see this every time I am there, but It does not make right - wrongs that I have had done on to me. For example, last month, I had an opportunity to be have a conversation with the Administrator of this Burn, Pain, and Neurological Pain Centre. We had a kind conversation that was professional, she over asking a question, "what can I do for you? Asking this question several times, while exchanging pleasantries and good talk about the clinic. While speaking with me she mentioned if I was the patient who was calling about "his Oxycontin"? A very powerful drug that is abused out there on the streets of our USA and is a medicinal drug I am not prescribed. You see, this is when I realized and knew right then, that what I had heard so many months ago was too damned true.
I am scared. I do care about this conversation, the talks with her assistants, and her RN assistant. I know very well that I have been discriminated against and very seriously, I have had my mental and emotional status more than upset because of what I had heard and experienced at this clinic for months. This issue here was when a nurse made a comment, I was out of her sight in my exam room, and she not realizing my door was ajar, with my hearing aid in and my BAHA implanted - I heard her say, "he's trying to get medicine from the clinic". Yes, I heard. A nurse. No, I'm not going to go through this whole story and process again. I won't go through the explaining of the hell these people have put me through. I mean, I have been so intimidated by a couple associates that I place passing grades on my surveys, as I was instructed to do so. So I did as I was told.
The first major incident was during our processing me into the clinic when a one nurse asked me in the presence of my spouse whether I was afraid of being harmed by a friend or family member? Unfortunately, this was just the most incorrect question to be asking anybody, especially me in front of my wife who ever may be present with any patient. This is a huge HIPA and a Patient Right betrayal, I mean, NEVER are these type of personal questions ever asked in front of another no matter who without a consent...
...this NURSE did not have my consent. Never was there a private chat prior to the Q and A - she leaped straight into it. When I interrupted her questionnaire, she became quite bitter and was no longer that sweet nurse with the wonderful accent processing me into the system. No, shit was never the same since. I will say that it was not she who uttered the mistake about me being there for medicine. It was a white woman who spoke those words. Getting back to the NURSE, she has raised her voice at me on several occasions over the telephone. She has spoken down onto me as if I should kneel before she. This NURSE has made too many errors with me. Another being, not calling me back for up to two days and then apologizing. No. This is a story about my life. About this damned pain that at this moment, is driving me mad! So bad I am on the verge of emergency. My bones. My muscles. My head - which is my scalp and skull hurt. I am beat.
But. I. Am. Afraid. I want to curse and cuss so bad, yet I attempt to restrain myself because I may be sending this communique out. Where, when, and to whom, or who, I don't know yet, but look, the all of this is simply not right. I get better treatment from the House Keeping Lady's and the Admitting personal than this NURSE. I am ashamed to have to speak of this because I am over this. I am tired of being looked over and away and shunned. I am being smacked about like bad mitten between three different doctor offices. Yes, this my life..........
...........no Mario, that is a Neurological issue - you have to see She-With-Many-Names. Then She, says and tells me, Oh no, this isn't neurological, this is Meniere's Disease related and I know this. And I knew that! And then at my internist, folks this, is this something that you have to see so and so about this and that's. Shit. Please. Calls are not returned. And I don't call that damned often - for shits sake, I keep a log. Yes, I damn sure do - with notes. So to hell with this do-do. All of this fakery is just prolonging the misery of my condition. You, my administrator, my professor, my doctors, you all don't even know what I am feeling as a patient and I'm sorry to say I wonder if you all really care for me at all. Yes, I know these are same old damned words and I don't give a shit if we are at a maximum performance presently. I'm not going to ask why me? Because I know every things going to be alright. It's like I'm treated differently. I see and listen and hear how other patients are being treated. Then to have my Rights as a Patient betrayed is just becoming too much for me to bare.
Is it because I'm a Mixed Blood, a Mixed Breed? I say, yes, and seriously, I begin to think so, more so. This pain is eating at me twenty four hours a day. Every damned day. I don't request medicine. Never had, it is you all who prescribe my medicine and I take them as you direct. I do not know what to prescribe. You do. All I ask is that all of you get on the same page. Get on same page and HELP me please. I feel like a lot of this is my fault because I let go and let God. These folks betrayed my faith and my trust. I think maybe I get back into action and talk face to face and involved with my health care.
I am suffering. I hurt. I'm sleeping my life away at a fifteen to twenty hours a day. And by the way She-With-Many-Names, this is a Meniere's thing, you wouldn't understand and Doc., I read you would/could/should. My hearing is leaving me with a quickness, I sweat like a pig every damned day and night, I live with dizziness every day and nothing helps. I fall and who's here to help me up as I let my hound lay there with me and lick my arms or face to let me know she cares. That every thing's going to be alright. I puke sustenance and whatever contents of my stomach on a regular basis. I hurt myself every damned day by bumping into stuff. Walls, chairs, a huge damned ice box and my garage is a danger zone. My spouse and I have created paths in our home, but sometimes paths are not good enough.
Maybe, just maybe it is time, I snap out of this peculiarity. Unfortunately, this is all an extra complicated scenario. I simply expect respect and proper care for these diseases I walk with every day of my life. That's every day. All I ask for is your understanding, you see. That's all.
I know damned good and well that not one of you, my dear doctors, know what it's like to live like this. Or to walk in my shoes or boots. You don't know how I live with these diseases. I have professionals playing hop scotch with me. Oh God, this process of speaking up is long over due. I as a patient, am approaching the last of my wits and I have my last nerve to bank on. I swear, I just don't understand. Your staff, your nurses (except for the intimidating one) are superb Folks, and I love literally so many of them. But doctors. But then, when? But really. Really.
The pain is becoming unbearably horrific. It is time for me to go rest. Sleep. And not think.
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