So I had the best of intentions to post an amazingly uplifting blog about how wonderful (parts of) my birthday celebrations ended up being despite the amount of pain I’ve been in and the amount of stress we’ve been under here at the Mango household. That WAS the plan for this evening as I ran out the door early this morning with coffee in hand to make it to the first of my doctors appointments scheduled for today.
By the time I hobbled back through the threshold late this evening with my pile of paperwork, lab forms and prescription bag all that was running through my head was “Fuck that shit!”
Its not that today made all the special parts of this past weekend invalid, I just simply can’t think or focus on it right now without tainting the good memory. Today is bullshit and I don’t want to in any way associate it with anything I want to remember fondly. Simple as that.
Doctor number 1. Show up, see doctor, get shoved a prescription for Prednisone (because apparently we’re not discussing my treatment plan together anymore… I’m taking their orders and being a good little patient until my body is cooperating better) and told to go see the Rheumie asap. My appointment lasted less than a minute, I swear, Mr Mango and the kids didn’t even have time to exit the hospital parking lot before I was back out by the entrance.
Home. Made kids lunch. Vomit. Back in the car on the way to the big city. We hit the worst construction we’ve seen in years from the outskirts of the city practically up until a block from the clinic on the other side. Turning an hour long trip into almost 3. Not very good for someone with demon bowels and burning limbs. A big cup of peppermint tea, some quiet stress relieving tears and a double dose of pain medication got me through it… but just barely. I was already in rare form and it was only going to get worse.
Doctor number 2. Totally different experience here. Usually she’s quick, decisive and knowledgeable. Today, not so much. She poured over the test results and notes sent in from my other doctors that have really piled up over the last 3 months since I saw her. She then spent the next 20 minutes poking and prodding almost every inch of me apart from any orifices (thank fucking goodness) with a quite concerned look on her face (especially when it resulted in a wince or groan). The ‘look’ slowly got worse after we discussed the amount of vasculitis related nerve pain and tingling that have been going on. Kind of a mix between confusion and disbelief that I managed to walk on my own two feet through the door.
We discussed immediate treatment options, one of which was heading straight to the nearest hospital for admitting. We settled on another urgent appointment with the GP (you remember the one that saw me for less than a minute and rushed me to here this morning) to completely change up the pain management plan and go for another battery of blood, urine, stool and ultrasound tests as well as seeing at least ONE of them every week until the colonoscopy and biopsies are done in early October. No if ands or but(t)s and if any of my labs come back anything but squeaky clean, my next stop is the ER.
This was the moment I find out my scope is scheduled for the 11th. For all you non-Canadian readers, that’s the day after our Thanksgiving long weekend…. Yea…. guess who’s having turkey broth instead of the traditional amazing spread. What’s next, exploratory surgery Christmas eve? I shouldn’t joke though, my angry guesstimates have a nasty way of being unintentionally accurate.
The important finish to the day that both doctors were adamant about was getting getting the prescription for the high dose short term run of Prednisone filled along with picking up a refill of the sleeping meds, because God knows I need all the help I can get in that area.
A 45 minute ticket time (because treating patients like its a parking lot is the new in thing) followed by over an hour waiting to hear back from doc numero uno on some questions about the refill and they still weren’t ready to send me away with my stuff.
I lost it. I mean tears flowing, emotions bubbling over and a complete lost of control. The pain was overwhelming already but the added stress of feeling helpless and confused. Maybe I could be used as exhibit A of why you don’t stick a chronic pain patient in an uncomfortable folding chair for an hour with Costco commercials blaring on repeat.
While I was embarrassed to say the least, it sure got their act together at least with the steroids. I left without my refill and without giving them an apology for my meltdown. I don’t feel bad about it either. Only that I didn’t manage to fake it as PMS to get some free chocolate from the sample boy watching the show.
At this point we were running almost 5 hours later than we planned to be heading home. The fact that the kids were totally preoccupied with snacks and a Pokemon DVD is probably the only reason that a repeat emotional roller coaster show didn’t happen on the way home as I went through the pharmacy issues to Mr. Mango. Well that and the fact that food hadn’t been put in my stomach for over 24 hours so it was finally leaving me alone (it keeps up like that and I might be happy to skip the holiday dinner). Compared to the rest of the day the trip seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. A scratchy, dry and irritated eye…
Now I’m home. Now I’m processing. Now I’m second guessing my belief that I’m capable of being home, handling back to school and somehow cleaning up after the weekend with the man of the house heading back to work tomorrow morning. Now I’m waiting for the Prednisone to kick in and DO SOMETHING, because nothing just won’t cut it tonight.
Here’s hoping that tomorrow I can afford some time to look back at the nice part of the weekend and spend some time thinking positive, even if not about the near future.