Am I The Bad Patient?
Fibromyalgia Diaries 01



I've been wanting to take a shift with my writing for a while now. I've loved writing for such a long time that I'm really starting to feel the need to write more and more. I've been struggling with timing fairly recently because of how up and down my health with Fibromyalgia, CFS and Migraines can really be, so I thought a great opportunity I could take was to start talking more seriously about my chronic illness' and how I tackle it in my day-to-day life. This starts with a new series I'm calling, the 'Fibromyalgia Diaries' where I can discuss, on a more casual level, the ins-and-outs of normal life when you have a disability. 

(I'd just like to add in too, that these are only going to be based on my experiences and opinions; so if you've experience something completely different or something similar, I would love to hear your outlook on the topics too!)


If you're someone, like me, that has to take regular trips to the doctors office, you might sit for hours each month, looking at the people in the waiting rooms. I wonder what they're coming in for? Do other people put off their problems because they don't want to discuss it with another human being? How do THEY bring up their medical issue?

But then it really got me thinking, who are the bad patients?

I thought about this when I was going into a new doctors surgery this week. I already felt sorry for the doctor while I was in the waiting room because I knew I wasn't overly ecstatic to be there. Countless doctors before this one had greeted me with a smile, asked me what was wrong like I was there long-lost daughter they were asking, 'how's work? you doing well?', to then have their face drop, their voice lower and the impatient look in their eyes grow when they read the word, 'Fibromyalgia' on their computer screen. I'm not sure why it's a bad word. But it is.

Suddenly, I'm nine years old. My voice is trembling, and my hands are shaking. I'm being told it's just 'growing pains' all over again as she doesn't even attempt to hide that she's rolling her eyes. I could tell her anything right now, but I have an invisible illness, therefore, I'm not truly ill, I'm a hypochondriac.

She asks if the Tramadol is helping. 

I want to say, 'God yes. It's been amazing.' because it has, for me. But then I'll sound like an addict. I want to say, 'Yes, it's been the difference between not being to stand, to being able to walk round the house or the shop without clinging onto just about anything for dear life.' because it has. But is that too much information? I don't want to go on. 

But now I'm overthinking it. My body's going into panic mode and I'm crying at this poor doctor, again. No one wants the patient that cries on them.

So I just say, 'Yeah, it's helped.' - but then I sound ungrateful. She gives me the talk about how dangerous they can be, that I should be taking something else, and that I shouldn't sell them on, illegally.

She then writes me off another prescription while looking me up and down, she's not overly happy about it, but it's the pain slightly relieved for another two weeks, and I have to be grateful for that, right?

I open my mouth to speak and that first little gasp of air warns her that I'm going to be the patient that queries more than just needing a few prescriptions renewed. I'm conscious of time and I'm trying to talk fast as to not waste a lot of hers, but I should know by now, that's not good enough. 

The more symptoms you have, the crazier you are, right?

She might inform me that I'm too young to be this sick, that I look just fine and would feel so much better if I just got outside or drank a few more glasses of water. She might be really kind, and offer advice for me to work on or information to look up online.

But now I'm too scared.

I've wasted too much of her time, and Fibromyalgia might not even be 'real' in her world, anyway. I'll just try again another day, when I'm not being that patient.





Follow

1 comment:

  1. I get you 100% I am from Quebec/Canada and when I got married, my husband is American, I tried to find a doctor; there is one that told me that fibromyalgia did NOT exist. I am pretty sure you know what was my next move... I never saw that doctor again. Than I finally found one that I saw for close to 3 years... I live in Alabama and that year the DEA was going hard on doctor and I had been asking to that general doctor for 3 years, yeah! since the first day, a reference to a pain Clinic, but I waited and waited... So for 3 years he was prescribing me my tramadol and some breakthrough pain medication (hydrocodone). So to get back to that last year, he put my info on the internet (they got stolen), he got afraid of the DEA so he finally gave me that reference to a pain clinic but left me without medication until they could see me and last nice thing from him was to hear him tell me how much I should loose weight because I was overweight, knowing I couldn't move a lot because of the pain, that he wasn't prescribing me anything for pain anymore and the killer; that I had an eating disorder that I just told him I felt I was about to go down the hole again... So that doctor did help me a little, but in the end, he destroyed what took me over 5 years in a private clinic to get over.... in less than 1 month and a half (probably more 1 month) I lost over 50 pounds if not more, and it's been over 1 year and a half and I still can't eat normally, my pain is worst than ever (I had to change the tramadol for the nucynta because the tramadol was not strong enough anymore)...

    I feel like all I do is bitching at my husband. I can't do anything I would like to do, I don't have friends, I don't know anyone and the only persons I talk to are my husband and my doctors (pain and psychiatrist)... I have 3 dogs, more 2 because 1 was already here with my husband and she hasn't really taken to like my puppy has taken to my husband... and there is the one we got together, but she is more mine... she is kinda my baby, since I don't think I will ever have kid...
    Anyway, I don't know if it's that kind of sharing you were looking for... and I am sorry to have impose on you all my whining... or maybe would be better said thank you for reading (listening).

    ReplyDelete

Powered by Blogger.