My grandmother got sick so I gave her my Zofran. As fate would have it, I immediately got some awful stomach bug and feel like death. I realize that I could go and get more Zofran, but my body is strongly against the “going” part of that plan.
Things have reached a level that neither Advil nor Zofran can cure. I have exhausted the only two tricks up my sleeves, so all I am left with now are empty sleeves and an emptier stomach (since I can't keep anything down).
My grandmother got sick so I gave her my Zofran. As fate would have it, I immediately got some awful stomach bug and feel like death. I realize that I could go and get more Zofran, but my body is strongly against the “going” part of that plan.
It seems to me that our social climate is shifting to a hyper-individualistic one in which "personal choice" is so enshrined that it cannot be examined under a critical lens. It is growing rarer for me to see people examine their behaviors, purchases, and preferences as they relate to capitalism and larger systems of oppression. Everyone should be free to live life as they please and make whatever choices they want, but this does not place our individual choices on pedestals that are too high up for social analysis to reach. That is a good thing! Growth does not occur in states of stasis and complacency. Rather than shutting down unpleasant conversations, it is best to listen to criticisms others have against an action or institution and decide if you agree or not. Whether or not you end up agreeing/changing in any given situation, society will only benefit from encouraging these conversations to continue. Apologies now if I sound like a grumpy old person. I say what I say not due to bitterness, but because I truly believe it is an important part of our development. It just worries me a bit that I am seeing these conversations get shut down far more than I used to.
I am going to start carrying around a little notepad and make a tally every time a patient asks me a variation of, "Are you sure you are old enough to be a doctor?" or "What school do you go to?" I will go get ice cream every time I hit 30 tally marks. I will have some serious blood sugar problems by the end of the month.
I may look young, but my low back strongly disagrees.
I am going to start carrying around a little notepad and make a tally every time a patient asks me a variation of, "Are you sure you are old enough to be a doctor?" or "What school do you go to?" I will go get ice cream every time I hit 30 tally marks. I will have some serious blood sugar problems by the end of the month.
I hate how being chronically ill has taken so much potential away from me. Through all of this, I have done everything in my power to stay as active, engaged, and ambitious as I was before. It is hard to comes to terms with the fact that sometimes my willpower is not enough.
I know it isn’t a healthy thing to do, but I fantasize about a world in which I never got sick. I wonder how much more I could have accomplished by now? I wonder if I would have been able to do more community work and research work? Would I have made a bigger impact? I dream of a world where I can be a physician but also fill all of my duties to my family and community without constantly canceling due to illness, or having to pass on a responsibility that I physically cannot perform.
I feel like I am just surviving. I feel like I am doing “just fine” in my professional and personal obligations. I am meeting the bare minimum... but I am not a bare minimum kind of person. I know that I am making small differences, that I am doing more than some are granted the ability to do, but it never feels like enough in comparison to what I know I could have done. I don’t know how to fully get over that lost potential.
inspired by @maryfagdalene . graphics more now :-)
ID: a digital drawing of a dog holding a human hand in its mouth, drawn in blue pencil and covered in blood. overlaid in pink text in all caps it reads "when the state reaches for your body bite off its hands". an alternate version has the dog drawn in black with red text overlaid. end ID
June is upon us, which means that this month I get to hear a bunch of brainwashed assholes unworthy of the title of “parent” talk proudly about how they disowned their gay child. These people will go to the ends of the earth to defend their other children who have something done legitimately terrible things, like molestation, rape, and even murder. Apparently homosexuality is worse than any of those things, though. These people make me hope that hell is real just so I can watch them burn in it.
If I had the disposable income to buy multiple luxury cars, boats, or vacation mansions and did it despite knowing how many lives I could change or even save with that kind of money, I would never be able to look at myself again. The richest among us must have no shame at all. I suppose that tracks since no one gets to that point shamelessly.
I met this lady who repeatedly commented on how "nice" my veins are. I either encountered a vampire or a phlebotomist. These are equally likely scenarios.
I agreed to take a half day off my clinic to do sports physicals all afternoon at a local high school this week. I am already regretting this since children uniformly dislike me, which I forgot about when I agreed earlier.
My clinic has a lot of transplants in the nursing and administrative staff right now since it is new. Many of them struggle to understand the patients with heavier accents (if you have ever heard a true central Appalachian accent, you understand why that is fair). I have to be called upon to translate frequently.
A new patient walked in today with a very heavy accent as he had an appointment to establish care with me. He kept trying to tell the front desk staff something important about why he made the appointment, but no one could understand him. He got taken to a room where his nurse also could not understand him. They came to get me and said that he is ready to be seen, but no one has any idea why he is here.
It was tuberculosis. That would have been good to know before we all walked into the room without the appropriate PPE...
A lady's insurance company contacted me today to ask why my patient (whose colostomy history I have documented clearly) requires an ostomy pouch. I don't know, insurance company. It is a real head scratcher, isn't it?
It reminded me of that video (I think it was by the glaucom-whatever guy) where a kid's insurance company wanted him to write benadryl instead of epinephrine for anaphylactic shock. It was that level of infuriating, except it was real, not parody, and therefore TERRIBLE.
A lady's insurance company contacted me today to ask why my patient (whose colostomy history I have documented clearly) requires an ostomy pouch. I don't know, insurance company. It is a real head scratcher, isn't it?
My sympathy toward patients who are unhappy with consultants is inversely proportional to how racist they are when complaining about the consulting physician.
Sorry for the sad post, but everything just seems surreal. Now that pap is gone, we’ve taken out the hospital bed and stair lift and all his other medical devices. The house looks like it did years ago before he got sick. When I go over and see that house as it once was, it feels like I’ve gone backwards in time and he should be there, up and walking around again. It all looks like he should be in the other room, working in the garage, or feeding the animals. He isn’t, he never will be again, and I hate it.
My grandfather passed away over this past weekend. We had his services today. I am so worried for my grandmother. She has done well so far, but no one has let her be alone. Every night since he died, my entire family has stayed with her every single afternoon. By “my entire family” I mean at least 15 people at a time on rotation in her home. I am very concerned for what is going to happen when we stop doing that.