(TW: Medical Trauma, Medically Induced PTSD, Medical Gaslighting, Mental Health, & Mentions of Suicide)
Let me just tell you now that if I could literally just insert a clip of screaming here, that would be today’s post. That’s it, just the screaming, because that’s all that I feel like doing right now. I am so sick and tired of the medical community, and medical practitioners in general.
My GP wanted me to get an ultrasound done of my kidneys, uterus, and bladder, so I did that yesterday. It was probably the least invasive thing that I’ve had done medically in the past three years, and I’m thankful for that. It’s not the ultrasound technician’s fault that I’m so angry, so I honestly can’t blame her but, the whole thing was kind of fucked up in my eyes. My GP has been telling me, almost since I met him, that there’s nothing wrong with me. There’s “nothing wrong with me” and that’s why I have CRPS, chronic migraines, chronic ligament instability, and chronic idiopathic angioedema, right? There’s nothing wrong with me, and that is why as I was laying on the table, getting covered in warm jelly I could literally watch as the tech measured out each and every cyst filling my kidneys. Right?
(I can only imagine the things he’s going to have to say about that when I see him on Tuesday…)
I’m then led to believe that the doctor acts like nothing is wrong with me because, “it’s his job to figure out what’s going on.” And that is exactly what’s wrong with the medical profession. They don’t listen to patients. Because, honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass how long you went to medical school for. You see me for all of three, painfully rushed minutes (sometimes less) but, I must live in this body for as long as I am able to stay alive.
But they just don’t get it, no one does. Because he can walk right out of the room when he’s done with me but, I can hardly walk at all because my mobility is straight up shit right now. My pain levels are out of this world, and I can hardly walk at all because, my hip is constantly popping out of its fucking place. Then, I end up on the ground in the middle of Jewel-Osco with Angel and having people staring at us like I’m fucking crazy because I don’t “look sick” and I chose not to bring my walker into the store with us due to their slippery floors, and it’s faulty brakes when we only needed two things.
(Thankfully, my little brother took a look at it today, and the brakes are working much better now!)
But that’s not really the point, is it?
The point is that I have all of these symptoms, and it’s not until I end up in the ER that any of them get taken seriously. Why? Because I’m apparently “too young” to be “this sick.” Or because I’m not writhing on the ground, screaming in pain? Because I might be sitting there eating crackers, or chewing on ice chips, or whatever else, I couldn’t possibly be in pain, right? Even though it’s been found that crunchy foods have been linked to lowering levels of cortisol in the body. Cortisol is released during high levels of stress, and when someone is under an extreme amount of pain, they’re under a lot of stress. (It’s called self-soothing, Karen.)
Now, for example, like how I’m sitting at my desk eating pistachios. Why? To lower my cortisol levels because, the obscene amount of pain medication that I took isn’t helping. Or just like how certain types of neurodivergent people, or people with medically induced PTSD, and victims of medical gaslighting, mask constantly. Especially when they’re in pain because, they have been treated so fucking badly by the medical system that they would rather sit at home, feeling like their about do die, rather than go into the hospital. Because, for every one time I actually go to the hospital, to seek help for my pain, or other symptoms that I’m having, I know that they will either give me IV fluids and help me or cause me more medical trauma by acting like I’m insane.
Or how, I’ve needed to have an MRI done on my brain since September 14th, when I woke up after my surgery complaining about weakness and numbness in the entire left side of my body, and you know what? I was told that it was “probably just the anesthesia” and that I would feel better tomorrow (meaning the 15th.) And you know what? I did not feel better. I didn’t expect to feel better but, I’d tried to trust my doctor. That, however, didn’t change anything because I still couldn’t really feel or move the left side of my face. My left arm felt heavy, and numb like pins and needles, and it was harder to get my left leg to move the way that it should’ve.
(Obviously, they’d just put in a DRG spinal cord stimulator/neurostimulator so I expected some weakness but not like that.)
It took me going to the ER the day after surgery and having the ER diagnose me with Bell’s Palsy to get my pain management doctor to be like, “Oh, shit, maybe there is something wrong?” Then, on the 27th, when he FINALLY prescribed me the MRI, his office conveniently “forgot” to fax it over. So, I’ve now spent almost a whole month fighting to get the damn thing scheduled. Fun fact: it’s still not scheduled yet, and I’m pissed.
Not to mention the neurologist that I had to fight tooth and nail to get a referral for, has now rescheduled me twice. First, I was supposed to see them at the beginning of the month and then they had a “family emergency” and then, I was supposed to see them tomorrow, October 14th, only to get rescheduled again because they “won’t be in the office.” My next appointment (assuming that one won’t get cancelled too) is on November 8th.
The whole thing is just a big fucking mess, and yet somehow, I’m in the wrong when I express even the littlest amount of frustration towards any of it. I’m the one in the wrong because, apparently, they went to school for a very long time to do what they do, as if they aren’t being paid ridiculous amounts of money for doing the bare minimum. Because it isn’t right that I cannot be more than 7-minutes late to a doctors appointment but, these people are allowed to quadruple book for my time slot, and be over 45-minutes late on a consistent basis, and yet they still get to milk my insurance for hundreds of dollars. It’s dehumanizing to have to drive over two hours each way to these specialists, just to spend less than 2-minutes talking to an actual doctor that speaks over you the whole time.
You leave with so many more questions than answers… and you wonder why a lot of chronically ill and disabled folks are depressed or even suicidal. It’s because we’re often treated like we’re less than human, not only by society but, also by the doctors that are supposed to be helping us. I guess that’s it for now, I’m sorry about the ranty post but, I’m just really frustrated right now, and I don’t know what else to do about it. Hopefully, the next post will be less ranting about medical BS and more about my writing.
Coming up, I do have a mini review about a new writing software that I’m trying called Chapterly. Lots of good things to say so far but, I don’t want to spill too much information about it yet. In the meantime, stay safe, and stay healthy.
-Sky
Skyla N. Lambert
Author | Blogger | Bookworm
E. skylanarissalambert@gmail.com
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