I thought about, maybe, not posting this today, on a Sunday, a peaceful day, but I wrote it this week and it mirrors the sentiment of the past couple days, or even years, of treatment. Why not let it out now, even if it is a little angry on a Sunday?
No prob, I've been a patient for four years.
I have a chronic cancer.
I'm familiar with four practitioners and the palliative care team.
I call and get put on hold.
Ten minutes goes by, the sectetary, not who I usually work with, for anonymities sake let's call her "Bendy," comes back and asks if I can hold, I say yes, but I've all ready been holding ten minutes.
No judgement. No problem. Just a statement.
"No, Hillary, I've been dealing with you and it has not been ten minutes." Comes the retort.
Actually the miracle of modern technology is I have the exact time I've been waiting in the palm of my hand. I also have two other witnesses.
Then she comes back and wants to know my exact scripts, which I'm not comfortable with since she's not a provider, but I give them to her anyway not wanting to be snapped at again and made to cry.
Finally, I did get a provider (a nurse practitioner) and my scripts, but why make the experience miserable?
I know she's probably busy and calling for narcotics is sensitive, but I can gaurantee that my cancer reoccurence and the fact that I'm on my ass attached to a pheresis machine with my blood being drawn in and out for four hours twice weekly makes my life a little more difficult than hers.
Where's the love?
If you're not capable of maintaining a standard level of control and empathy with each patient then maybe a doctor's office is not the place for you.
And this isn't the first time.
It always happens when I'm devastated and panicking.
Last July, I experienced a reoccurence where my neck swelled and stomach bloated terribly.
I called for help and the np wanted to know why exactly I was calling her and what I thought she could do about it. It wasn't my fault I was straightlined to an np.
Bitch, diagnose the cancer. That's your job right?
But instead I burst out crying. How terrible.
I'd like a big clan of you to get together and give these people a big swift kick to the head.
I suspect this is partly caused by the stigma associated with pain management. All this short sighted woman saw was a drug addict, and it's not even her place to have this information.
but on many occasions I've called for medical issues and been denied, Told I was calling to much, That my questions were inappropriate and would only be answered during appointments.
Do you know how much I pay? I certainly know how much you make. I'm paying for a product and when my life is the stakes I don't really care about being polite.
But I am.
There is no reason not to be, except when confronted with a bully on the otherside, which unfortunately happens to often.
I doubt they realize the damage they do to somebody all ready struggling, hopefully, they can learn to care.
Baldies' Blog began originally in the UK by a 26 year old journalist with a blood cancer on a mission to inform the world about bone marrow donation.
He has since died, and I took on the cause of making cancer care more transparent for everybody.
Cancer is a disease that will touch everybody through diagnosis or affiliation: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed and 1 in 3 woman will hear those words, "You Have Cancer."
I invite you to read how I feel along my journey and
how I am continuing to live a full life alongside my Hodgkin's lymphoma, with me controlling my cancer, not my cancer controlling me.
I hope that "Baldies' Blog" will prepare you to handle whatever life sends you, but especially if it's the message, "You Have Cancer."