Pet Peeve

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?

That pet peeve is snotty, bitchy hospital staff, and you would not belive how many times these lovely "professionals" have made me cry and want to hang up the phone and die because on top of what ever extreme suffering I am experiencing I don't want to deal with their attitude.

Today for example, I realized I forgot yesterday to get my scripts for pain control.

I had a PET scan. I was given xanax. It came back positive. I had a lot on my mind and forgot which is a big pain in the ass since these need to be handwritten and arre generally, sensitive to write or get written.

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.
WHOA bitch.
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.
CONTROL YOURSELF.
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.