As a consequence of the Medical and Political drama and debate about the latest medicine ordered for me by my new Neurologist, She-With-Many-Names over the past two weeks, I have been denied the opportunity to be in the position to work with my doctor and the team there at The University of South Florida at Tampa General Hospital.
I was to speak with doctor's assistant today, I followed her instructions to the period and gained no aid in reaching her. In the morrow morning we will have an opportunity to discuss this further. I have not the slightest clue as to why an insurance company would refuse a patient the right to take medication as prescribed by a physician.
Yes, I am disappointed, in a rather major way, really.
If I didn't know any better, I would say that I am just not White enough for the insurance company. The Not-The-Red-Cross, thinks maybe I am not Spanish enough. Maybe? I don't know.Yes? No? This is my first time being refused medication by an insurance company. I think I'll call the insurance company myself come morning to speak with a customer aid.
The Insurance Company...
...the Pharmacy...
...and my Team-Mates with my Better Health, Mind, Body and Spirit Team, here at the Neurological and Rehabilitation Dept., have let this team mate down.
I am covered by two insurance agencies. One private and one government.
Sad, en'it?
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
An Incident At The Government Office's
This actually happened to my gimp ass earlier this afternoon around 1330, while over at the office's of the Department of Education, Vocational Rehabilitation, Veteran's Affairs, the Tampa Bay Work Force Alliance, and other similar governmental office's.
My Little Blue Bus had just been dropped me off for my meeting with my VR counselor.
As I walked towards the center corridor of this once-a-mall-office building addressed, 9215 N. Florida Ave., I stopped to take an inhale from my emergency inhaler. It was necessary that I stop just for one moment or two to catch my breathe and wipe my globe's forehead, as it is might hot out of doors...
...in this moment or two, in a room the size of the bottom floor of a Sears Department Store, with dozens of computer's with a diverse people's at most of them. While I took in the cool air, took a breathe of medicine, and wiped my skull, there was a young pup of maybe twenty two or three, at a desk maybe four feet from me, with a cubical type partition between us both, who really thought he asked me, "are you, looking at my screen?", I looked over my shoulder to see who he was talking too and asked him if he had me mistaken for some one else...
...well, from this point we had a brilliant show of how not to have a confrontation with an Elder who doesn't take to kindly to being spoken to in such a 'street lingo'. I mean, gawd, you all know I don't fucking curse, um, too much.
Roof-roof, bark bark, woof woof, yackity yack-yack, and acting like two damned fool's.
Kin, I stood up for myself and had to really give that boy a good damned deep down, talking to. Out loud and in public too. I swear, he thought he threatened me with bodily harm and in turn I offered to provide him with a smashed face. Then, out of the deep blue sky, like lightening striking, a dear lady asked, "Will one of you be the Man and just walk away?".
Her words broke the cycle. Immediately. Thank you, Ma'am and thank you, My Dear God.
Because My Dear Lord, somebody was going to have some hurt feeling's today. Might have could been me, I don't know, but I say, this ole gimpy elder would have gotten in some. There might maybe had been a boo-boo or two, or a fat lip and I thank you God, for sending in your Angel, the rational lady with the wise words.
God, I forgive that young pup, and ask that will you please forgive me? I sinned today, I was a part of this incident at the government office.
My Little Blue Bus had just been dropped me off for my meeting with my VR counselor.
As I walked towards the center corridor of this once-a-mall-office building addressed, 9215 N. Florida Ave., I stopped to take an inhale from my emergency inhaler. It was necessary that I stop just for one moment or two to catch my breathe and wipe my globe's forehead, as it is might hot out of doors...
...in this moment or two, in a room the size of the bottom floor of a Sears Department Store, with dozens of computer's with a diverse people's at most of them. While I took in the cool air, took a breathe of medicine, and wiped my skull, there was a young pup of maybe twenty two or three, at a desk maybe four feet from me, with a cubical type partition between us both, who really thought he asked me, "are you, looking at my screen?", I looked over my shoulder to see who he was talking too and asked him if he had me mistaken for some one else...
...well, from this point we had a brilliant show of how not to have a confrontation with an Elder who doesn't take to kindly to being spoken to in such a 'street lingo'. I mean, gawd, you all know I don't fucking curse, um, too much.
Roof-roof, bark bark, woof woof, yackity yack-yack, and acting like two damned fool's.
Kin, I stood up for myself and had to really give that boy a good damned deep down, talking to. Out loud and in public too. I swear, he thought he threatened me with bodily harm and in turn I offered to provide him with a smashed face. Then, out of the deep blue sky, like lightening striking, a dear lady asked, "Will one of you be the Man and just walk away?".
Her words broke the cycle. Immediately. Thank you, Ma'am and thank you, My Dear God.
Because My Dear Lord, somebody was going to have some hurt feeling's today. Might have could been me, I don't know, but I say, this ole gimpy elder would have gotten in some. There might maybe had been a boo-boo or two, or a fat lip and I thank you God, for sending in your Angel, the rational lady with the wise words.
God, I forgive that young pup, and ask that will you please forgive me? I sinned today, I was a part of this incident at the government office.
Monday, April 29, 2013
The Politic's Of Medicine Continues, Week Two
I am compelled to share with my Guest's, that I have had the second week anniversary from the date I dropped off the prescription ordered by my new Neurologist, Dr. She-With-Many-Name's. My God, yes, the drama and politicking continues over a new medication she ordered.
I am uncertain, no, drop that, it is clear to me that somebody or some company has created drama for a person who is a patient in search of a better way of life. It is as it has always been that when a doctor or a doctor's assistant, order's me to take a medication, I eat the medication until I/we know that there is nothing wrong going on within my system's additional pill and or tablet.
It is a total ironic blast to visualize this in my mind, because I am usually the one reporting that I would rather not take the medicine. I have out-right refused medications in the past and all things considered, just may do so again. Yet, I am in dire straits, a place where I understand when the time comes to take a step up and try something new. Then please, let's all be on the same page. All knowing the direction I wish to head. Knowing what we as a Team know now, it is in my best interest to insure all future medicinal transactions be handled well in advance of when I am to receive them. This drama and humiliation beckons me to the reasoning I have in attempting to eat as few medications as I can.
I don't know.
What, with the Meniere's, Asthma, Migraine's, Cervical Spine, and the High Blood Pressure. There is the Sugar Diabetes and Neurological issues, Cervical Spine and lower Lumbar Spine misery. The Thyroid, depression, anxiety, etc, etcetera. There is no doubt in my brain's that I might could have created some form of other Elk shit disease. note: Elk's expel pellets. Please, for just a moment, think of all of the pills I have had to eat in the past four years alone, as I take a moment and try not to remember every injection I have had in this same period. This makes me feel just a little bit queasy, eh?
What is that?!
The Politics's Of Medicine Continues. As a patient, this withholding of medication is something that I have never had to deal with. I don't like the way this has me feeling as a patient, as a fellow Human Spirit and as a Man. If MY DOCTOR, has an idea or concept of change made to MY LIFE, then let MY DOCTOR and I DECIDE WHAT IT IS WE DO WITH ME AND MY BODY.
For shits sake, this is my body. I do not belong to my doctor or the pharmacy. Neither, am I owned by some insurance company, with their gestapo like political agenda when it comes to MY Health, Body, Mind and Spirit's. I am my own Advocate. There is also My Advocate. Maybe it is time to reach out to him. I see and sense that some donkey has gone and had me mistaken for some other son-of-a-bitch. Huh? Why yes, I have been known as both, a bitch and a son-of-a-bitch, and it doesn't matter much to me. They both have so often come to the aid of my own mule ass. This is my life. This is my life in real terms, dig?
Please, please, please, why play political games with a person's well being? I am the patient, my doctor has ordered a medicine that will assist me with creating a healthier routine in life and My Path. I can dream about this or I can advocate for myself until some one hears me. I am committed to being an advocate for me and all of my health. I can also dream, just not about the politics's of medicine as I see it from here.
I am uncertain, no, drop that, it is clear to me that somebody or some company has created drama for a person who is a patient in search of a better way of life. It is as it has always been that when a doctor or a doctor's assistant, order's me to take a medication, I eat the medication until I/we know that there is nothing wrong going on within my system's additional pill and or tablet.
It is a total ironic blast to visualize this in my mind, because I am usually the one reporting that I would rather not take the medicine. I have out-right refused medications in the past and all things considered, just may do so again. Yet, I am in dire straits, a place where I understand when the time comes to take a step up and try something new. Then please, let's all be on the same page. All knowing the direction I wish to head. Knowing what we as a Team know now, it is in my best interest to insure all future medicinal transactions be handled well in advance of when I am to receive them. This drama and humiliation beckons me to the reasoning I have in attempting to eat as few medications as I can.
I don't know.
What, with the Meniere's, Asthma, Migraine's, Cervical Spine, and the High Blood Pressure. There is the Sugar Diabetes and Neurological issues, Cervical Spine and lower Lumbar Spine misery. The Thyroid, depression, anxiety, etc, etcetera. There is no doubt in my brain's that I might could have created some form of other Elk shit disease. note: Elk's expel pellets. Please, for just a moment, think of all of the pills I have had to eat in the past four years alone, as I take a moment and try not to remember every injection I have had in this same period. This makes me feel just a little bit queasy, eh?
What is that?!
The Politics's Of Medicine Continues. As a patient, this withholding of medication is something that I have never had to deal with. I don't like the way this has me feeling as a patient, as a fellow Human Spirit and as a Man. If MY DOCTOR, has an idea or concept of change made to MY LIFE, then let MY DOCTOR and I DECIDE WHAT IT IS WE DO WITH ME AND MY BODY.
For shits sake, this is my body. I do not belong to my doctor or the pharmacy. Neither, am I owned by some insurance company, with their gestapo like political agenda when it comes to MY Health, Body, Mind and Spirit's. I am my own Advocate. There is also My Advocate. Maybe it is time to reach out to him. I see and sense that some donkey has gone and had me mistaken for some other son-of-a-bitch. Huh? Why yes, I have been known as both, a bitch and a son-of-a-bitch, and it doesn't matter much to me. They both have so often come to the aid of my own mule ass. This is my life. This is my life in real terms, dig?
Please, please, please, why play political games with a person's well being? I am the patient, my doctor has ordered a medicine that will assist me with creating a healthier routine in life and My Path. I can dream about this or I can advocate for myself until some one hears me. I am committed to being an advocate for me and all of my health. I can also dream, just not about the politics's of medicine as I see it from here.
Dear Google, Help
My Dearest Friends At Google,
I am asking, again and this makes three times, to please have the advertisement's of 'women' on my blog removed. Simply permanently. Dear Friend's, for me personally, this is disgusting. For one, I am not trying to have folks find porn or locations of exotic or erotica scenario's peculiar to me and considering them with questionable agenda's. Scruple's, really?
I mean, really, I have communicated this before and am once again put in the position to have to send this communique. Today's topic by the way, was "Thai Women", and by the photograph applied to my blog, women who very really-really look more like teens in my eye orb. For me, it is Thai food, yes. Thai Women, no. And, no, don't ask.
Google, I am not interested in any form of advertisement's that would have males and or females sell their body's or anything of the sort on anything I publish. Considering you all are the Computer God's, I reckon you all may have the notion that I am wrong with that numeral three. Yes, Ma'am, this has happened a few times. I just stopped counting. You see?
Um, Goggle, I really mean to share that I am uncomfortable with the concern I have for reprisal. I know what the pain of that feels like, please, no reprisal.
I seek your professional aid and am in need of your help. Please?
Warmly,
Me and I
I am asking, again and this makes three times, to please have the advertisement's of 'women' on my blog removed. Simply permanently. Dear Friend's, for me personally, this is disgusting. For one, I am not trying to have folks find porn or locations of exotic or erotica scenario's peculiar to me and considering them with questionable agenda's. Scruple's, really?
I mean, really, I have communicated this before and am once again put in the position to have to send this communique. Today's topic by the way, was "Thai Women", and by the photograph applied to my blog, women who very really-really look more like teens in my eye orb. For me, it is Thai food, yes. Thai Women, no. And, no, don't ask.
Google, I am not interested in any form of advertisement's that would have males and or females sell their body's or anything of the sort on anything I publish. Considering you all are the Computer God's, I reckon you all may have the notion that I am wrong with that numeral three. Yes, Ma'am, this has happened a few times. I just stopped counting. You see?
Um, Goggle, I really mean to share that I am uncomfortable with the concern I have for reprisal. I know what the pain of that feels like, please, no reprisal.
I seek your professional aid and am in need of your help. Please?
Warmly,
Me and I
The Plumber Was An Angel
Kindred,
You all must remember the talk of the plumber in my ceiling and the talk of pipes mating, tubes doing the sexy back. Talks about chasing leaks. And in the mean while, my head was counting calculating and processing and worrying way too much about what the final out come was going to be when time came for signing the invoice came...
...when the second leak was found and the water had been turned off in the South Yard, I approached the fellow known as the plumber in the ceiling. He informed me that he was not going to adjust or change what was given at the estimate...
...I was so moved I began to cry. For one moment almost too uncontrollable.
When the third leak was located and the third hour quickly passed us by, I decided not to approach him on the money piece. I was quite concerned that the third and final leak was going to place him in the position to have to adjust the invoice from what was quoted.
He never did adjust that invoice. Neither did he put into factor that he was here in the attic of my lodge for off and on three hours. In this Central Florida-Skip-The-Spring Summer! Seen.
That plumber in my attic ended up being a real life and alive Angel. He sure was an Angel, for my wife, Bonnitanigua and I. The dude even has the name of a Saint, for God's Sake!
And Hush. I don't want to debate this topic. In my silly big small brain and mind I know that Angels are for real. I know this as a matter of fact, you see...
...I sure hope I was a good host.
You all must remember the talk of the plumber in my ceiling and the talk of pipes mating, tubes doing the sexy back. Talks about chasing leaks. And in the mean while, my head was counting calculating and processing and worrying way too much about what the final out come was going to be when time came for signing the invoice came...
...when the second leak was found and the water had been turned off in the South Yard, I approached the fellow known as the plumber in the ceiling. He informed me that he was not going to adjust or change what was given at the estimate...
...I was so moved I began to cry. For one moment almost too uncontrollable.
When the third leak was located and the third hour quickly passed us by, I decided not to approach him on the money piece. I was quite concerned that the third and final leak was going to place him in the position to have to adjust the invoice from what was quoted.
He never did adjust that invoice. Neither did he put into factor that he was here in the attic of my lodge for off and on three hours. In this Central Florida-Skip-The-Spring Summer! Seen.
That plumber in my attic ended up being a real life and alive Angel. He sure was an Angel, for my wife, Bonnitanigua and I. The dude even has the name of a Saint, for God's Sake!
And Hush. I don't want to debate this topic. In my silly big small brain and mind I know that Angels are for real. I know this as a matter of fact, you see...
...I sure hope I was a good host.
Somtimes When I Get Weird, En'it?
Sometimes, when I get carried away in the moment, I can get so full of things that have been said, or lived and or tasted by force and to remember I have felt myself ripped by rape and the love for or wait, is it the love from the perpetrator's that continues to confuse me because of the things I feel in my Soul. And my Spirit's too. How can I forgive other's when I can't forgive myself? All of me knows that I'm weird en'it? Am eye? Sometimes when I get carried away, I can feeel my innards and energies inside me get full of anxiousness and I can feel my heart skip the beat that causes my pulse to skip and skip and skip. So much so, the folks who take it, (my pulse) ask me time and time again, "do you know you have a skipping hear beat?", and my reply is always the same, "get the fuck outta here!". No, not really, but it sure sounded good there for a minute. And then, I think about all of the awesome foods I ate over this past week end, while Kinfolk from out of town were in town and my sister Kala came over and my baby sister, Lala came over with her children and her ball's and chain and no, I'm not sorry for saying that, the bastard knows I love him. I see that I might can get carried away and weird too, sometimes I'm okay with this. I am me, enit'? Sometimes when I think of all of the pressure I have been up and under over the past few years that I can sense that I am getting carried away with all of these medically imposed issues and acknowledge that I have my problems and know that we all have our problems and sometimes I wonder, "what the fuck have I gotten myself into?", and eventually am able to walk up right as I walk away from what or whoever it is that I am stressing myself about and or over and or both. I don't know, but I know that that at this moment I feel awfully true when I say that I may have somethings I wish to share. So I share and I speak up. How in the hell is somebody going to get things right-right in the mind and life force when there is so little care and or the minuscule amount of support that I am positive this is because I have had my heart broken so many times that I stoped counting when I was eight. I mean, really? I am but a human and one with two spirit's and many ego's and a few personalities. One with enough scar tissue to have layers of this removed, frozen and then sold on the Black Market for them folks who enjoy making lamps from my grafted epidermis. Look, I know I gt carried away, but I don't need some goof ball with their own shit, telling me how to deal with mine. Often times, it is them who share with me their thoughts about the subject of forgiveness. How can I forgive other's when I can't forgive myself. Especially, them who are so full of themselves that I become their sub-servant. Moose Shit! Is what I say to them and I don't give a shit if they are Kinfolk and also don't really give two Water Buffalo shits if their Kinfolk, and yes, I know I said that twice. I know what I meant to say. Damn it, he is so weird sometimes. En'it? It scares me and I am afraid that I am being set up for abuse and am being groomed for more sexual abuse and I think to myself is this really what I am to be forced fed the rest of my fucking life? My whole damned life? And oh, I wanted to say, my whole god damned life? Is this my place in life? Is it to be that I must constantly be on full alert when in the company? When in public I know how to deal with this shit, but personally I have had one issue over another issue and after issues with this fucking shit as a fifty three year old son-of-a-bitch who still believes that I am weird looking inside and out. All of these years I have seen abuse. I have felt the horror of rape. I still deal with the fucking nightmares and I still have my panic attacks and people in position's who want and wish to place more and more diagnosis's on my name with things that are old scars resulting from forced sexual favors. What was that!? How is that at thirteen I was being sexually abused, forced upon by incest and now that I am fifty three the same shit is to continue to happen? What the fuck is that!? I know I get carried away, but folks forget. Folks think they know, fuck, folks don't know why I get carried away. Or why I cry or why I want to bleed and be okay with being this so weird, en'it? How can I forgive other's if I can't forgive myself?
Note: This is what I meant it to be. One paragraph of my utterance's. Seen?
Note: This is what I meant it to be. One paragraph of my utterance's. Seen?
Friday, April 26, 2013
Up There In The Attic
The plumber up there in the attic located another leak when we turned the water back on. This leak was created by the other pipe touching this one, the other pipe. I say, bloody pipes, touching and doing all of that rubbing and fucking each other drama up there. What? Shit happened here.
Up there in the attic, is a room I have never been in. On purpose. You see, I have this dreaded fear of attics. Basements too, eh, but I don't have to worry about a basement here, we don't have one.
After, Mr. Plumber Dude, fixed the first two pipes, we tested the water down below by running the tub, kitchen faucet and what-not's...
...my plumber guest hollered down from up there to turn the water off. I told him that I had already, but he meant at the main source.
He climbed down to explain to me that he had located ANOTHER leak. This one is because of the copper tubing being the "old type" of copper tubing. He said that this type of leak happens often when this type of thing happens. Pipes touching, rubbing, and shit. So, this is now leak three.
Mr. Plumber Dude, calls it, "chasing leaks" now.
It is 1824 and my Mr. Plumber Dude is up there in the attic fixing another got damned leak.
I question myself as to whether I should ask him how is this going to influence the price of that quote he gave me when he first got here, um, naw boo, I think I'll keep it to myself...
...think I'll leave be, Mr. Plumber Dude and him chasing leaks alone.
I don't want to distract or interrupt the going's on up there in the attic. Pressure?
Up there in the attic, is a room I have never been in. On purpose. You see, I have this dreaded fear of attics. Basements too, eh, but I don't have to worry about a basement here, we don't have one.
After, Mr. Plumber Dude, fixed the first two pipes, we tested the water down below by running the tub, kitchen faucet and what-not's...
...my plumber guest hollered down from up there to turn the water off. I told him that I had already, but he meant at the main source.
He climbed down to explain to me that he had located ANOTHER leak. This one is because of the copper tubing being the "old type" of copper tubing. He said that this type of leak happens often when this type of thing happens. Pipes touching, rubbing, and shit. So, this is now leak three.
Mr. Plumber Dude, calls it, "chasing leaks" now.
It is 1824 and my Mr. Plumber Dude is up there in the attic fixing another got damned leak.
I question myself as to whether I should ask him how is this going to influence the price of that quote he gave me when he first got here, um, naw boo, I think I'll keep it to myself...
...think I'll leave be, Mr. Plumber Dude and him chasing leaks alone.
I don't want to distract or interrupt the going's on up there in the attic. Pressure?
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