(for today's writing soundtrack we visit an old favorite from way back in 2007, Paramore's Riot!. Yes, sometimes I am a high school girl.)
This week has been a busy one, or to put it more specifically (as I'd like to call it) the Dococalypse of 2013. I've had three different doctor's appointments this week and they've all been fairly fruitful. Let's take a trip down recent memory lane, shall we?
1. Endocrinology/Diabetes Educator on Tuesday morning.
I was a tad apprehensive to start here because my old diabetes educator Megret is pretty sweet and hooks me up with lovely life-sustaining tools like needles, insulin, test strips, etc. and she's just easy to talk to. However now that I'm officially seeing an endocrinologist they have a new team of people for me to go see. Oh boy!.
My fears were for naught as my new lady, Bonnie, is definitely different but still a good resource and person to have in my corner. She was impressed by the amount I already know about my disease(s) and how I know how to take care of myself. Makes her job easier. I get it. Seems to be the common course as I meet new doctors and specialists. They're prepared to give me a dissertation on what's wrong with me but I kind of beat them to the punch. Speaking as a professional patient I will say this, kids: it is in your best interest to know as much as you can about what is or could be potentially wrong with you. Makes the healthcare rat race smoother and with no short bit of hyperbole could help save your life.
The More You Know... (cue music)
After what took longer than expected I was good to go on to my next appointment of the day with my primary care doc:
2. Dr. Mark Berman, Tuesday afternoon.
I've been seeing Dr. Berman ever since I first got sick and he's a good guy. My one point of contention is that his office is at the top of a bomb-ass hill by Wentworth-Douglas and it's a literal pain to walk up that hill. Let me back up.
I had a few hours to kill between appointments so my father dropped me off at my place in Dover to hang out for a bit while he and my mother were off to take care of some business of their own. It was the first time since the end of January that I spent any real time in my place and it was kind of nice, except that I need to clean like a motherfucker. See, leading up to my Happy Go Lucky Barrel Of Monkeys Spleen Time I was getting increasingly sick so apartment upkeep was the least of my concerns. No more! I'm clearing out the aura of awful, getting a new fish (RIP Captain Ahab) and going to enjoy my little slice of Dover.
Back on track: the walk to Dr. Berman's from my apartment is only roughly 7/10ths of a mile but it's almost entirely uphill and after being bed-ridden for over a month it was quite the arduous task to make the walk but I did it, damnit and I'm glad I did. I need to keep pushing myself at this point even if that means facing an unpleasant death march to see my doctor.
Upon arriving early the receptionist checked me in with nary a word from me and after some perusing of Fall Out Boy and Muse articles in Rolling Stone my number got called. A funny thing happened that makes me uncomfortable every time it does. The intake nurse (who's name I forget but she's always my intake nurse there) started in on how I look good despite everything and that they've all read a lot about me the past few weeks and were concerned. Nothing big there. But then she pulled out the big guns and told me how strong I am for enduring all of this. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE DO THAT. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't consider myself to be a terribly strong person. I have/had great doctors and I happened to pull through this so far. The fact that I should probably be dead many times over by now is not lost on me, however I don't think of myself as some stoic soldier of resilience in the face of death. I live. It's what I do. It's what we all do, just some of us do it under worse circumstances than others.
So to recap: if you see me on the street or something please do not stop me and pull any of that crap. I'd like to live as normal a life as is afforded to me at this point, thanks.
Sidenote: my left wrist tattoo says "We are blessed, we endure", a line from a Five Iron Frenzy song that I got when I was 20 or 21 and it's only since I got sick that it's really taken on a more profound meaning than I had originally intended. Funny how that works out.
After my slightly awkward intake I got to see Dr. Berman and he was beyond impressed with everything. His exact words were "You look better now than I've ever seen you." Score! How's that for post-surgery living? After that I met with the case manager and we chatted for a bit. She wanted to know how things were, if there was anything else they could do at this point, etc. No thanks madam, I'm all set for now.
3. Infectious Disease on Wednesday
Last appointment of the week. Whew. I had to go back to W-D to see Dr. Mendoza at ID. This was my most nerve-wracking appointment because I hadn't yet heard the results of some recent blood work I had done and the last thing I needed to hear was that my insides were still abuzz with microscopic critters. Nope, he came in and let me know that my white cells are good, platelets are good, and I'm showing no signs of continuing infection. Huzzah! Unless something comes up like serious vomiting, fevers, chills, or general signs of sickness I'm cleared to not have to see him again. As much as I like my doctors personally it's nice when I'm not required to see them.
So that was my week of the Dococalypse. Next week I only have one appointment (with Dr. Auty) to *fingers crossed* get my feeding tube out. My JP hasn't drained much of anything since I left the hospital save for maybe 25 or 30ml which means my stomach has finally healed up and I can start to get back to normal. Unfortunately Dr. Auty says that even with the feeding tube out she wants to keep the JP in place for a few more weeks to make sure nothing's wonky on the inside. Alright madam, I'll see your caution and raise you discomfort. But it's not like I haven't had JP's before.
As for real life I was/am? supposed to spend some time with a friend today but she hasn't called or contacted yet so I'm not sure if we're still on for anything. Harumph. On a bright note my dear old friend Mike has graciously gifted me a guitar to replace the one that my asshole brother walked off with. What a guy, right? She'll get put to good use as I'm set to make my return to the stage at the end of the month. Real life, right?
Alright kiddos, that's enough for now. My back is sore from being in this chair and I feel like working on some new songs. Later skaters.
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