The hubby and I had the following conversation after I woke up with my moon face.
H: What is it that prednisone does again?
Me: Suppresses the immune system.
H: Which stops the asthma?
Me: Yes. Usually.
H:They don't have any other medications? You couldn't take something else that wouldn't screw you up so bad?
Me: I don't think everyone else has the problems I do with prednisone. It's effective. Most people are fine. I'm the weirdo. It seems like doctors never see patients like me.
H:Can't they do anything for you?
Me:I'm going to call the pulmonologist and see what we can do.
H: Why not the endocrinologist?
Me: Remember when I asked the endocrinologist about Cushing's and he said I probably had it already.
H: Yeah.
Me: Notice how he offered no treatment plan? No 'watch for this and then we'll test to be sure the adrenals are working'?
H: Yeah, but isn't this an endo problem?
Me: Sure, but, if the only doctor listening to me is the pulmonologist, why would I go to the endo who doesn't care? I have to go where the care is--the specialist doesn't matter at this point.
H:Medicine doesn't make any sense.
Me: Yeah. You would think after diabetes, diabetes, diabetes all day endos would be interested in some variety. You would think people would have some compassion or some interest in preventing problems.
H: Guess not.
M:Not for me at least.
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