To go or not to go? After they took alllllll the freaking blood out of my body yesterday, I REALLY REALLY don't want to go back. They made me sit and drink a cup of orange juice and eat a freaking cookie. I've never had so many vials taken of my blood at one time. The GOOD thing is the nurse LISTENED to me when I told her that she really should use a butterly, or a 21-guage needle. MOST of the time, nurses use a 16-guage (big rubber hose, NOT designed for my tiny veins). She did; and although it took FOREVER to get my blood, she finally did (and yeah, they had to use ammonia to get me up...lol). I just got a little light headed. No biggie. Cheet. Then, the nurse said: "See? I always listen to my patients." Well, thank GOD someone does. Don't you think we know what's going on in our bodies MORE than a doctor? I mean sure, they can do blood counts, etc. etc...but WE KNOW what feels bad. I think that some patients simply don't think to tell the doctor all their symptoms or don't recognize them properly in order to articulate. Then they expect physicians to be God. Lemme tell ya; they're not. I have a cousin who is, and um...well, that's all I'll say about that. YOU have to tell your doc what's wrong and be very specific about it. Leave out nothing. If you run a fever EVERY DAY, TELL HIM. I think our bodies tell us things; we just don't listen.
Of course, they forgot I was supposed to be there. LOL. And I USUALLY cancel every appointment (which is the irony...or maybe not...maybe they EXPECTED me to call back and say 'not gonna make it'). THIS time, I got to wait with all the veterans and their wives (who take care of them). In retrospect, I had some very interesting conversations, all of which were listened to (with rapt attention) by the rest of the room (who eventually got brave and joined in). First, an elderly man and I were chatting it up about computers, technology, the internet and his grandkids. Aw. I listened. Then, when we were moved to ANOTHER waiting room, he waved at me on his way to another test ("heyy are you following me around?" he said, laughing and waving like the Queen of Angland). In THIS waiting room, there were some of the same who followed me (this is AFTER vitals...nexxxxxt). In this one, an elderly man (aren't they all? and they were ALL -- I kid you not -- in wheelchairs) and I got into a deep discussion about theology. Then, a black woman (who had brought her dad), joined in, and she and I started talking about knee surgery, hysterectomies, 60 Minutes, how the V.A. basically sucked and was staffed with throw-aways and students...all of this for the entertainment of the waiting room crowd, and in reality, help me NOT think about what I was going to be told or have done to me in the office when it was MY turn. Which made me wonder about some of the elderly people. I wonder how scared THEY are? Initially at the V.A. everyone talks about what happened to them while in the line of duty. I've heard some horror stories. I've saved a lot of them in hard-copy journals. You look on the face of a man who seems so kind, and WEAK...and you feel humbled by not only what he's done for his country, but the wisdom behind his eyes, the stories he has to tell, and his ability to still be glad to be alive, DESPITE how his body is failing him. Because his spirit isn't. Isn't that how good soldiers always are?? I think it's more common to see non-commissioned officers in the V.A. Ones who were commissioned moved on to bigger, better things, take advantage of their insurance/medical benefits elsewhere. So...I get the double advantage of hearing the trench stories, since the officers aren't there. This is a good thing. I was both, so I can tell you with surety that not MANY officers were EVER put in harm's way. Thus, no disabilities (but a nice umbrella when they retire). Yes, I have insurance; but I have to maintain a presence at the V.A. for disability reasons...so don't even ax.
What I found REALLY FUNNY was the amount of people who asked, upon discovering *I* was the patient, not my dad, "Were you in the air force?" BAAAAA HA HA HA HA. NO...I WORKED MY ASS OF TO KNOW WHAT I DO. In the Aaaaarrrrrrmy. Let's get real. If I was in the wimpy lil air force (and you air forcians know it), I wouldn't still be walking OR talking; you guys NEVER had to do as much P.T. as WE did, nor have to do so much to pass your PT test. So there. We worked harder, longer and with crappier equipment (but all armed forces were trained together in my speciality). In fact, a month after I was hit, the doctor finally told me that if it wasn't for the fact that I was in superior physical shape when I was hit, I would've most assuredly died. Uh. Sometimes, when it gets really bad (take yesterday for example...please), *I* wonder why I didn't.
So this morning, when I got up, I checked my temp. Yep. Still running one. So I've made a command decision from this point out, and for as long as I have this little journal -- not going to talk about things that go on every day (knees, fever, etc.). I'm boring ME with it, it occurs every day now, and is quite frankly depressing :D If I do, they'll be locked posts. So I'm sparing you guys :D
They co. pres. two-wayed me last night to go over manyyyyyy details of a new system we're implementing for a utility company that I have to spearhead. I'd THOUGHT I'd be able to do it last night (dum de do de dum). I'm still wondering why he didn't call on the phone; and it's not complete. Argh. Excel spreadsheet tied in with Access and back to Excel, on several formats, tying in to men, money and footages. Don't EVEN ASK. Cost analysis, in other words. I can't WAAAAAAAIT. I was in no state to be doing this last night, so...as you can see by my lack of entry -- I went to bed.
On a GOOD NOTE...I did tell the whatever he is (attendant? he's not a nurse, not a doc) that I'd prefer they WRITE my prescriptions so I wouldn't have to get the V.A.'s. I also explained that it would save THEM money. He grabbed his script book and flew out the door (no joke...he went first, his little white coat?? after him, getting snagged on the knob...was funny), and returned out of breath with my scripts. NO MORE GENERIC, OUTDATED MEDS FOR ME. THEY DON'T WORKKKKKKKK. The end.