They May Listen, But Do They Hear?

 Listening and hearing are different!

Are you listening to the words spill from my mouth while dreaming about this upcoming weekend?  Did you understand?  Did my words have any impact?  Do you sense my desperation?  Will you follow up with pertinent questions or offer valid suggestions?  Did the impact of my words move you towards finding a resolution to my dilemma?

In the previous post I wrote about my two new doctors that I have yet to meet and their "Miss-Two-Hats" clinical assistant go between.  A pleasant person to be sure, but my words, my frustration, my desperation, simply had no impact.

I reiterated my various pains:

• Neuogenic nerve pain - burning from the knees to the toes
• Sciatic hip pain - hurts on a good day; on a bad day if feels as if the devil is hammering a hot nail into my hip with every heartbeat.  I curse my heart for beating.
• Torn tendons in both shoulders; at my age, told to learn to live with the pain.
• Painful contractures in several fingers of both hands plus the beginnings of arthritis in my thumb.  Met with a plastic surgeon last spring but still unresolved.  Does the doctor no longer relay results? Is it up to the patient to chase the doctor?
• Painful leg spasms that last for hours, preventing sleep 
• Mental anguish of recently being housebound (unresolved)
  

I tried to relay my desperation; and no, I don't want narcotics.  I'm looking for some degree of relief.  I'm looking for a path forward.

I explained "Miss Two Hats" that I have no children and I have no relatives, but that I have significant pain and anxiety.  I told her that my worst fear is that I live in this state for as long as my parents lived--my mom to her mid-eighties, my dad to ninety-three.  As of April of 2022, I've become house-bound--dependent on public disability transport as I no longer able to get into our family vehicle; that issue also left unresolved by my "revolving door" of doctors in the medical community.  Life sucks!!

I followed that revelation by telling her that I've lost all faith in the Canadian medical system.

You'd think that either one of those verbal "bomb-shells" would elicit some words of understanding, perhaps sympathy (though I'm not looking for sympathy).  You'd think she might defend the medical system in which she is a participant in some capacity.  Yet it appears that my frustration, my desperation made no impact. 

She politely listened but did not hear--immediately concluding our phone conversation by saying she will follow-up (CBD oil efficacy) in the near future.  Goodbye.

I guess I had hoped in vain for suggestions as to how to proceed, how to resolve, lessen or at least manage the discomfort that envelopes my life.

*   *   *

Changing Hats

The preceding posts outline my current frustration with our medical system--how I'm on my fourth doctor in five years and my immediate problems remain unresolved.  I still want to add to the absurdity I experienced with the current medical clinic.

An appointment was made for what I believed would be a "meet & greet" initial session where the doctor and I superficially get to know each other, review current medications, discuss immediate concerns, etc., etc.

I was welcomed by a pleasant young woman who I assumed was a clinical assistant with some medical qualification. We began by discussing all the issues, as above, at some length.  I began to wonder when she would finish and bring me over to meet my new doctor.  It then dawned on me that this interview was my welcome to the new clinic.  I would not meet the doctor.

During my interview with this clinical assistant, I raised the issues of my neurogenic pain and spasms--both severely impacting the simple joy of living.  She suggested I try CBD oil (cannabis derived oil which has no euphoric, psycho-active properties).  Desperate for relief, I agreed.

 

 

Days later, I received a phone call regarding the CBD oil trial.  The young lady who questioned me identified herself but it didn't register at the time.  I now suspect it was the same woman who I interviewed me at the meet and greet.  We had gone over all that previously.  If it was her, she should have already known my answers; if not her, then the information I relayed should be in my file.  She then told me that in order to qualify I would have to be interviewed by Doctor so-and-so either in person or by a video conference.  Because of my current mobility difficulties, I chose the video conference.

Now, I'm not a fan of Microsoft's Windows operating system--they should have stopped at Windows-7 (I use Linux).  However, I have a laptop with Windows-12 or something like that.  Though I check all the parameters to the best of my ability, some permission was not set so when the allotted time arrived, I couldn't connect.  I phoned and apologized--now leaving the face-to-face interview with Dr. so-and-so as the remaining option.  I make the appointment.

I bolt on my footrest and make an appointment with disability transport.  I arrive at the clinic expecting to meet Dr. so-and-so but instead am once again greeted by the young lady who interviewed me at the initial meet-and-greet in place of my new doctor--and the person who suggested the CBD oil in the first place (most likely the same who had initially phoned me).

So I'm re-interviewed with the same questions when 1) at the initial meet-and-greet she suggested I try CBD oil; 2) she most likely interviewed me days later by phone, and now 3) I meet her again and not Dr. so-and-so face to face.

I have to wonder, why all this interrogation?  Are they making sure my story holds?  What story--that my legs burn and dance each night for hours on end?  This is not a psycho-active drug.  I can't abuse this or re-sell it as some dope peddler on the black market.

And so I have yet to meet my new family physician and I have yet to meet the cannabinoid doctor.  My only connection to this clinic has been through this clinical assistant, resident, or whatever.  She takes off the family physician hat and puts on the cannabis CBD oil hat.  I have to wonder if she has any other hats in her wardrobe.

I guess you have to show up bleeding or have some appendage dangling before an MD will grant you a face-to-face interview.

My how healthcare has changed