Hanging

First, here's a picture of the desk. Don't mind the window, the curtains haven't arrived yet and hubby taped up some white paper so the neighbors don't catch us in our 'undie-wear.' Also, I bought myself some flowers during a very ambitious trip to the grocery store. With the toddler even (which I only attempted because I knew I could strap her into the cart and wouldn't have to carry her).

I figured I had earned some floral therapy--although, as you can maybe tell, I know jack about actually arranging flowers.

But isn't the desk purty? I really love it and it is perfect for what I need; a place to work where I can still keep an eye on the toddler.

As for me and my stupid, moronic health. Things are in a holding pattern.

After not hearing back from the pulmonologist, I called one of the many endocrinologists I've seen of late to see if they could be motivated to do anything.

Turns out that was a good move on my part. Maybe.

Because when the pulmo finally did call me, I was told my symptoms could not possibly be adrenal in origin.

Through clenched teeth, I advised that this was exactly what I went through before when I had documented adrenal suppression. The data for which is readily available to the pulmo.

So they promptly handed me off to the primary care doc with the intent of getting endocrinology involved.

Which, big eye roll from me. Good thing I already called an endo and that I'm pretty sure I'm not dying. Although last night I was truly truly scared, being up most of the night with muscle cramps, back pain (my kidneys felt like they were on fire) and nausea that kept threatening to do something. I told the hubby if I actually threw up, I was going to the ER, but, thankfully, nothing happened.

I need to call the primary doc now because I know better than to think the pulmo's promised message is going to get anything moving with any speed. (If you're wondering why I'm not waiting for the endo I called earlier today... Well, at this point, whoever gets to me first wins. I am not playing around over here. I want to be sure I'm okay and I'm going to call every Doctor Tom, Dick and Harry until someone listens. It is becoming clear, I can't count on anyone so I'll play phone-a-doctor until I find a winner.)

You know what the real problem is? The doctor who saw me through this before, who knew me, moved out of state. So even though there are lab reports and, I assume, doctor's notes in my file about the adrenal suppression, it's not Good Enough because the current batch of doctors haven't seen me sick like this before.

Nor am I considered, apparently, a reliable or credible source of information as to what I am feeling in my own f*cking body. This after working with the pulmo for almost 5 years now who considers me to be a compliant and "medically informed" patient (their words). Seriously what the f*ck does it take?

My physiology has to prove itself all over again. I'm starting from scratch which is beyond ridiculous.

Medicine makes no f*cking sense. None. If I didn't have the previous history or if they didn't have my records, I could understand the Chinese fire drill. However, I purposely stayed in the system where all this happened before precisely to avoid a situation like this ; me saying 'something's wrong' and everyone ignoring me. I have been nattering on about the prednisone for the last two weeks; to primary care, to the ER, to the pulmo and...nothing.

Like I mentioned in a previous post about me being okay despite not going to the ER not being reflective of a good choice on my part. The same logic applies here. Just because I've limped along this far does not mean I've received good medical care nor that the physicians I've encountered have done their jobs.

As for how I feel, my stomach and back still bother me, but it's not as pronounced. I was very slow moving and weak at the grocery store, but I sucked it up. I'm trying to push as much as I can because life goes on whether I'm capable of living it or not. I'm doing what I can.

It would be nice if the doctors in my life would do what they could too.