Friday, October 24, 2008

I've Been Hornschwaggled!

*Author's Note: Due to a rotten little dog who decided to chew up the cord to our computers, we had to order a new cord which took several days to get in the mail. Besides the irritation of not having internet access for a few days (EEK!), we were very disappointed that he was not electrocuted by chewing up an electric cord. We would not have cried too much if we had woken up to a charred little Midget Poo Poo Platter. Alas, karma only lies in wait for the rest of us and not little dogs who really deserve it.

While having a love affair with my couch, my neurologist's nurse called me to schedule an appointment because it had been awhile since she last saw me. I was happily sawing logs when she called but my little sister's bf/f answered the phone, and not knowing my deep hatred of being woken up, woke me up and gave me the phone. I was forced to make an appointment for the next day, much to my dismay: I was hoping to avoid having to go to the doctors anytime soon. It had been awhile since I last saw her and, while I like her, I get tired of doctors in general. It irritates me that after nearly 4 years of MS'ed bliss, I still have to see my neurologist every 3 months due to my aggressive disease. I envy those who only have to go once or twice a year and remember reading somewhere that an MSer should see their neurologist at least that often; I was jealous of those who are so stable they are not chained to their neurologist as often as I am. I stretched out this last doctor-free time to 4 months and was feeling like I was getting away with a crime when they called and strong armed me into coming in. Not willing to let me slide like that again, they scheduled my appointments for the future so I couldn't get away with coming in late again. Darn it! I hate when they know me well enough to know that if they don't pin me down I will avoid them.

Anyhoo, I always write down any questions/problems/suggestions/thoughts/concerns before going in, so I had a nice little laundry list of things I wanted to discuss with her, beings as I had to go. I expected this visit to be much like every other visit, but I was dead wrong. I left her office hornschwaggled and worn out from being put through the wringer. She made me do the usual stuff like walk on tip toes and my heels, but then, being the diabolical thing she is, she had me try to hop on each leg and do all these different ways of walking to see how my balance is -- crappy, in case you were wondering. I told her that my fatigue is kicking my round behind so she wanted to check my thyroid to make sure that wasn't adding to my overwhelming desire to marry my couch, so I got a blood draw and a huge, ugly mark from that. My bladder has recently sprung a leak (instead of the usual 5 minutes to get to a bathroom, the time has narrowed to about 2.7 minutes and then it will let go) so I had to give a urine sample to see if I had a bladder infection that was adding to the problem. At a general doctor's office, there are about 50 million urine samples in the bathroom and 75 million of those little wipe things they give you, but at my neurologist's office there were none. Normally I throw away those little wipe things because they stink and leave one too wet and moist in an area that I don't care to have feel so... moist. But because there was not a trash can overflowing with those wipes, I had to use them or risk getting caught not properly preparing my urine sample. The nurse asked me if I wanted a hat, and my poor MS addled brain misunderstood and thought she meant a real hat, so I declined, not feeling I would wear a hat from the doctor, so I had only the little cup to try and catch urine with my shaky hands. The nurse was so amused by my gaffe, I was embarrassed by her laughter.

Because I suffer from the crazies, my neuro wants me to see a psychiatrist to evaluate my antidepressants and see if maybe there is something that will work better and have less of a sedating effect on me. When I first started my current psych meds I was suffering from severe anxiety so they were appropriate at that time. Now I have more of the crushing depression and fatigue, so she wants me to be reevaluated. She also feels that I have an undiagnosed mental illness that if we get a proper diagnosis for it will be easier to treat me and have a better effect on my life and outlook. I agree that I could use a better regime of psych meds and that I probably do have an undiagnosed mental problem -- I have extreme ups and downs and I am a little OCD, as much as that pains me to admit. I will only eat an even number of things and have certain other rituals that I am too embarrassed to admit to on here, but I did tell my neuro about while my face burned a bright, hot red. She thinks I need a mood stabilizer and I agree. So I now have to see the psychiatrist too.

While doing all my walking and stretching and other things to see how I am doing, she asked me if I have been exercising. It is a HUGE downside to my personality that I am not a liar, so I told the truth: no, I have not been exercising for the last few days... or years, but who is keeping track? Sadly, she is. On top of everything else I have to go back to physical therapy, which is a fate worse than death! I HATE HATE HATE physical therapy. It sucks eggs but I also know how much good it does for me, but it sucks eggs too much for me to really care about the good that comes from it. I also need to get an exercise program and stick to it, she doesn't care if it is the YMCA or the MS exercise facility here in town, I have to get off my butt and DO IT! I know I need to, but sometimes when one is battling depression one doesn't want to go exercise even though one knows it will make them feel better. And this one would rather stay on the couch and flip channels for a little while longer before having to run the gauntlet in PT.

She also made me get the flu shot yesterday. The shot itself was nothing; barely felt a thing. I was pleasantly surprised that it was so painless and easy and thought to myself that I had been being a baby and dragging my feet for nothing. Ha ha and ha. The joke is on me. The shot was nothing, but my arm is so sore and stiff now and of course I had to get it done on my left arm because that is the arm they drew blood from so I figured keep all the ugly to one arm. Too bad I'm left handed and just want to keep that arm curled up against my chest because extending it or using it HURTS! But I am so left handed that I have no choice but to use it, my right hand being an almost useless appendage.

So I was hornschwaggled into the appointment, having been asleep when they called and forced me to come in. Then I was hornschwaggled at the appointment by being forced to see a psychiatrist, go to physical therapy, get a flu shot, have blood drawn and pissing all over my hand because I didn't want one of their hats. The only good that came out of yesterday is that I am getting a copy of my MRIs. I figure that I bought and paid for those little boogers, so the least they could do is let me have a copy of them to put the pictures on my Christmas cards this year. They knew that if they didn't pin me down while they had me I would avoid them for as long as I could, so they scheduled my next 2 appointments with them while I was there. And I foresee more hornschwaggling in my future.

7 comments:

Jen said...

Okay-- I just got back from buying a gigantic pair of sunglasses for my melon-sized head (it's true-- I have an extra-large head and face that is disproportionate to my short stature.) Went right to the men's sunglasses to quicken the process. Anyway, I forgot to stop and get some stupid basics-- tp, tooth paste, shampoo, conditioner--- so I'm going back out to Target and will return with a cup of tea to read this entry. It will be the excitement of my very mundane day.

Jen said...

Sounds like a real rigamerole.

PS: I think I might have my own problem with only posting comments in two's.

Weeble Girl said...

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Weebs

Denver Refashionista said...

Well. I hope some good comes of all this.

BRAINCHEESE said...

So much comment fodder in this blog...so little CREATIVE comment fodder to add!

At first, all I could think was, "and your little dog, too!" (said with my best Wiz O' Oz accent)...then the pissing on the hand reminded me I needed to clean my cat litter box (don't ask!)...and still there is the romantic involvement you have with your couch. Personally, I think we could double date on that one.

Linda D. in Seattle

LISA EMRICH said...

Hey, I laughed so hard at this entry.

Once, and only once, I graduated to a 6 month visit with the neuro - only to have a relapse and start the 2mo/3mo/3mo routine again. Maybe after November's appointment, I can at least go back to 4mo.

I have yet to move beyond 4mo visit intervals with my rheumo. Even during this last visit, she wrote prescriptions for 6 months and pointedly said, "that doesn't me that I don't want to see you in 4 months, k?" Yes, mistress, 4 months.

I managed to go 16 months without visiting my PCP, but those last four months without synthroid were not a good idea. So I got gently reprimanded, tested for thyroid levels and Vitamin D levels, given prescriptions for both, and have to go back in November.

I could go on, but why?

Diane J Standiford said...

As my 101 yr old great-aunt say, "Never go to a doctor. They always find something wrong with you." Dang her genes.