Do You Believe in Miracles?

TODAY'S MENU
Busy Little Bee
'Squeezing IN' a Lunatic
Dr. SOB
Medical Messiah


My family & I recently watched the movie, Miracle, about the United States Olymic hockey team that beat the Russian team way back during the ‘Cold War’.

Anyway – I’m not into sports…at all; but I did enjoy this movie.

I think what stuck with me most was the line that Al Michaels, the sportscaster, spoke as the final hockey puck went into the net allowing the US to win. He said: “DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?”

That line gives me chills even now.

I’ve been in need of some miracles lately. What occurs to me, though, is that miracles are all around me – yet I have to be consciously aware of them. I have to be in an emotional/mental place where I notice them.



Busy Little Bee
It's hard to notice the daily miracles when you keep too busy.

I’ve been so damned busy lately – you know, going from doctor to doctor getting pissed off at their ignorance and bleeding into tubes for them so they can say, “Well, your tests results all seem fine.”

“Golly, gee. Really?” I say, with as much sarcasm I can muster. What I’m really thinking is, “It’s because you’re looking in the wrong direction you stupid f’ing jackass! I’ve got chronic Lyme. Do I need to spell it for you?” One of these days I’m afraid that’s going to come flying out of my mouth. Oh well, so be it.

Anyway, I really don’t know how my time disappears so quickly. And I’ve been feeling bad that I haven’t been keeping my blog up-to-date.

I’ve got these obsessive-compulsive perfectionistic tendencies that I really need to let go of, you know? I’ve been in therapy off/on for the last damned decade – you’d think I’d be over it. Actually – I’ve grown so much (and not just in my ass size, either) over the last decade…just think how f’ed up I was 10 years ago!

Since I actually have an audience of more than just my Mom – I’ve started to feel the pressure to please you. I hate that. I’m a people pleaser by nature. I know that you’re having a hard time picturing that – if you’ve read any of my writing at all, but it’s true. (I hate the questions, “Are you feeling better?” because it almost seems like I’m supposed to say “yes” even if I feel like the maggot in a pile of dog shit.)

In my obsessive-compulsive perfectionistic mind I’ve been thinking that I need to write my complete experiences, keeping you all informed, all the while documenting this hell that I’m living through daily…so as not to forget if I ever want to write some tear-jerker novel about a BEAUTIFUL woman’s struggle to find a doctor that’s not a stupid f’ing jackass. I’m sure it would be a best-seller because I will beg you people to fork over the $24.99 to buy the hardback version – since I’ll certainly be scribbling my damned pen name across the front page…and you’ll have the ability to say: “I knew her when she was just a miserable damned blogger.”

Anyway - it’s difficult sometimes for me to MAKE the time to sit down and write for hours on end. If I’m feeling like total crap – or if my head is in some surreal fog – or if I’m having trouble getting the damned oxygen to my brain – writing is a monumental task.

Therefore, I’ve decided to write a little bit at a time. If I don’t start updating this blog regularly – you may feel free to badger the crap out of me at:

dr-wiseass@sbcglobal.net.

Please don’t spam me or send me your damned viruses. I shall be pissed…and my mom is like this magical computer wizard and will track your ass down and….well, I don’t know what we’ll do – but you’ll just be sorry you miserable son-of-a-bitch. Now for the rest of you, fine fine citizens – I trust you will be kind to me in your emails, knowing that I’m suffering through this Lyme crap too.

So – do you believe in miracles? DR Wiseass has taken just a few minutes to update the blog!!! It IS a MIRACLE!

I shall be back again – hopefully later today to add more. But as I type this I notice that either my DSL connection is messed up - or the blogger program is screwed today. (I can't seem to format any shit right now...deal with it.)

Also, if I come back & decide I don’t like what I’ve written, I will edit it and move shit around, correct some spelling errors and probably make some new spelling errors...again,deal with it. It’s my new way of blogging.




'Squeezing IN' a Lunatic
I’m so glad I keep a calendar, otherwise, I might forget all of the forthcoming details that are just a bunch of bullshit. BUT here it goes anyway.

After my melodramatic visit at the end of February with my PCP doc, Dr. PCP, she decided I needed to wear a 24-hour halter monitor to check my heart..since Dr. H – my cardiologist – neglected to think of that idea.

She couldn't "squeeze in" the halter monitor set up (even though that's the nurse's job) so that meant I'd have to come again the following day...and then the following day after that to have it removed...because apparently whatever I already had scheduled was of no importance to anyone but me!)

Also, Dr. PCP wanted to take me off my latest anti-depressant because she was thinking perhaps that was causing these new symptoms. I said “fine”. Sometimes I just have to humor them.

(I can't remember if I included this in my last post - but Dr. PCP did not want to refer me to Dr. N - the only LLMD in my area that treats chronic Lyme with long-term antibiotics - which is what I needed. I didn't ask Dr. PCP WHY at the time because I was having a hard time breathing, as I've mentioned too many times.)

Naturally, I’ve got tachycardia almost the whole damned time. I pushed the button whenever I felt anything “unusual”, and the next day I returned to have it removed. I was told that I would know something in a couple of days.

A “couple of days” passed…several times. Usually when I don’t hear from a doc’s office about a test, I have the assumption that everything was “A OK” since my thoght was "I’d certainly hear from them if they thought I was about to drop dead. Right?"

Meanwhile, a few days later my symptoms seemed to get much worse, so I called my pulmonary doc’s office to ask about getting a damned oxygen tank…explaining once again, that it felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen to my brain.

The nurse told me to go up to the hospital to get another ABG (arterial blood gas) and another breathing test. I said, “Fine”. I didn’t really want to go to the f’ing hospital again, as I had explained: "I’m having a hard time breathing!" Getting ready for a voluntary trip to the hospital takes some damned energy!

Because of my symptoms, and the fact that I had once just stopped in my tracks & laid in the middle of the floor to rest, I knew I couldn’t drive – so I called my neighbor. I now owe my neighbor so many favors that I’ll have to live until I’m 120 just to have time to “pay her back”.

My ABG was “normal”. Great! But I still couldn't breathe well.

My breathing test was “normal” – although the tech did say it seemed like I was hypoventilating a lot. Great! But I still couldn't breathe well, and I'm curious as to why I was hypoventilating when I was breathing deeply and as consistently as my new normal. (For you "newbies" - hypoventialing means not breathing fast enough - as opposed to the term: hyperventialing which means breathing too fast.)

Upon my REFUSAL to go home while “not breathing well” the respiratory tech called my doc’s office & I was then wheeled over in a wheel chair where they would “sqeeze me in”.

I thought it might be nice if my PCP’s office could fax over the results of my halter monitor test so maybe Dr. L, the pulmonologist (a/k/a Dr. Hooters) could look at both sets of information together – as a whole. I am a whole person. My organs communicate with each other – I thought it might be a nice change if someone would consider that.

So I called Dr. PCP’s office and asked them to fax it over. It was late in the afternoon, so I called them myself instead of waiting to ask the nurse to do it because I KNEW if I waited that long Dr. PCP’s office would be closed.

Dr. PCP’s receptionist said that Dr. PCP had not read it yet and that she must first read it and “sign off on it” first….and that Dr. PCP was really busy with patients now.

So – here’s the miracle….

I did not call the receptionist a f’ing bitch. I did not scream into the phone about how irresponsible I thought it was to leave me hanging by a damned thread while Dr. PCP was busy collecting her co-pays from all the people with the snotty damned noses.

I know that being chronically ill can make one a little narcissistic, but is it really that unreasonable to expect that the sickest people get some shittin’ damned priority????

I hung up the phone, and then used a lot of my energy to propel my fat ass out of the wheelchair & I went & sat in the hallway so that I could just break into tears. I did not want the others in the waiting room to know how hysterical I was becoming, so as not to scare the holy crap out of them. See? I am thoughtful...perhaps a bitch at times; but a thoughtful bitch.

Naturally, I wasn’t real fond of the idea of everyone in the hall hearing me…but there are moments in your life where you just have to let your pride go. And that was one of them.

In a few minutes, the nurse, the one that I like, came out into the hallway & helped me up. She listened to me make my little speech, and then said: “OK, well then I’ll call them and ask them to fax it.”

She did. They did. I was relieved & still pissed simultaneously.

Eventually both my mother & husband showed up at Dr. L’s office. Hubby had to show up because I had no other way home. My mother showed up to make sure someone was bitching at the doctor with enough vim & vigor. (Poor Dr. L didn't know what was coming...)

I felt like I was at the end of my rope. I was honestly just ready for them to put me into the hospital and perform whatever test they needed to figure out what in the piss was going on!

Dr. L said “All your tests are fine. You are not dying. You are OK.” She may not have said it all that way – but that was the sense of it.

Both my mother & my husband were ready to have me hospitalized, and I was reluctantly ready, too. But Dr. L insisted that she had no reason as a pulmonary doc to admit me. I understood that – but I was still frustrated as hell.

See – my PCP doesn’t have hospital privileges. In the past this hadn’t been a problem. And despite her office “procedures” – I still like her because she does listen – which you just don’t get that from most docs…especially the ones with a penis. I know that sounded sexist…that’s just been my experience, unfortunately. (That’s not to say that I haven’t ran into my share of female sons of bitches…I have! I just think those particular female docs must feel the need to strap on a plastic penis every morning & maybe shoot up with some testosterone so they can “handle” their tearful, overly emotional female patients. I digress.)

I explained to Dr. L about chronic Lyme. She looked like she was listening, but did admit she didn’t know that much about it.

I told Dr. L about the term "air hunger" that I've heard many other lymies use on internet message boards. I felt like my breathing problems matched the definition of "air hunger" so I adopted it. Dr. L looked at me like I was a little crazy and shook her head "no".

So here was a pulmonologist who specializes in disease & issues of the lung and she has NEVER in her career as a doctor heard the damned term "air hunger"? How is that possible?

Naturally, Dr. L ended up our little conversation with the following advice:

"Be careful of what you read on the internet."

(REALLY? You mean I can't trust EVERYTHING I read on the internet? WOW! I'm so glad you told me this...I'm such a f'ing idiot -- I thought it was ALL true!" Sometimes mental fantasies of what you would like to say are very comforting. Sometimes.)

She also said she wanted me to see a rheumatologist, because I did test positive with a small amount of ANA…which might imply Lupus or other connective tissue disorders.

(Note: Because Lyme disease mimics anywhere from 200-300 other disease, many people are often misdiagnosed. Many people with Lyme disease will come up with a small "positive" on the ANA test. If you know of anyone with Lupus, Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson's Disease, ALS, etc...you might suggest they get tested for Lyme...from a lab who specializes in Lyme, such as IGeneX, located in California....and no, I do not work for IGeneX at all!)

So I agreed to see her friend the rheumatologist, only because I was so damned exhausted and I was hoping by doing so she would call the ONLY LLMD around that prescribed antibiotics, Dr. N. She agreed to do so, even though she did not know him and could not recommend him. I told her all I needed was for someone in the medical field to pick up the damned telephone & dial his number & speak my name into the phone!

I left that day at Dr. L’s office so exhausted, but hopeful that she would make the call.


The next day I had an appointment with Dr. C (for CFS doc who discovered the Lyme). My husband kindly took a ½ day off from work so he could drive my dizzy ass across town to see the doc.

When we got there – the receptionist informed me that my appointment was scheduled for the NEXT day.

That’s when I really just lost it. I doubled over crying like some lunatic. I felt certain that I was losing my mind.

I looked at my calendar and discovered how I screwed up, but it still did nothing to appease my guilt of screwing up hubby’s day, and my embarrassment of not being able to keep track of what damned day it was!

Dr. C kindly said he’d “squeeze me in”.

About 4 ½ hours of waiting (and using that time to conduct several useless, yet dramatic arguments with hubby while we were alone in the patient room) Dr. C finally came in.

I updated him on all the bullshit I had endured since I last saw him and then proceeded to convince him that I needed to see Dr. N (the neurologist – the ONLY LLMD that treats with long term antibiotics in the area.)

Dr. C did not want to refer me to him because he is against the idea of long term antibiotics…also, on some level I knew he was afraid that I might not return to his office & fork over the big bucks if I decided to just stick with Dr. N’s plan for me.

I tried to reassure Dr. C that I was still “in to” the alternative stuff – that I did not lose faith in the value of what he & his office could offer me – I just reiterated over and over that I needed to be able to talk to Dr. N about the use of antibiotics because it was ME who ultimately needed to make the decision. What a concept, huh?

Once again, Dr. C informed me that according to his research, only 30% of people respond to antibiotics….

…now here’s the miracle…

At that point, I slammed my hand down on the table and said: “And perhaps I am part of that 30%!!! I need the opportunity to find out!”

The doctor was man enough to take me going toe-to-toe .. sitting face-to-face & insisting that his way may not be the best way for me. I respect him for that. Most docs would have been pissed off and gotten up and left me there.

After that, Dr. C FINALLY agreed to do it. (YES, ANOTHER MIRACLE!) He said he would call Dr. N and refer me (not because my insurance demanded it, but because Dr. N is so busy that he demands it.)

I made a note for Dr. C – a reminder to call Dr. N – and I kept putting it on the top of my chart, lest he forget.

I left Dr. C's office that day totally exhausted, but slightly hopeful he’d do the right and honorable thing and make the call, just like he promised.

----------------------

OK – I”ll admit it: I get sidetracked a bit. I really want to keep this damned blog up-to-date, but shit – life just keeps rolling along so fast it’s sometimes hard to make the time to sit down; reflect & then regurgitate it for your reading enjoyment.

I need to catch up – so I’m REALLY REALLY REALLY going to make an effort at being concise so I can finish up with this post title. And you can certainly judge my intentions to do so by the number of adverbs I just used….which for those of you whom are more ignorant than me – when a writer has to depend on heavy adverb usage or lots of profanity…they generally suck as a writer. Welcome to Suckville. I shall be your hostess.



Dr. SOB
After my last encounters, I then went to see yet another new doctor, the rheumatologist that I PROMISED my pulmonary doc (Dr. L) I’d see – in hopes that in exchange she’d call Dr. N and tell him I desperately needed an appointment with him.

I think I went to see this rheumatologist with a fairly good attitude considering I knew I was wasting my time, money, and most likely a few vials of good blood. (Well, maybe it’s not “good” blood since it’s filled with Lyme – but I consider it to be useful for me…even necessary.)

The rheumie’s office had a shit-load of paper work for me to fill out – and me, being the professional patient, mostly wrote things like: “See MY list” on those little lines they provided. I mean, REALLY! Give me a damned break. I’ve got an Excel spreadsheet listing all of my prescriptions, supplements, & their dosages; and they expect a person to list all that shit on 2 single spaced lines? That was my first clue this guy was an amateur…and I didn’t care how damned old or how long he’d been in practice.

And speaking of the word “practice”, as in “medical practice” – that’s what YOU and I need to ALWAYS remember. Doctors are “practicing” medicine. They haven’t got it “perfected” yet – despite their God-complexes. I know that I long for the good ol’ days when a person could idolize their doc and think they knew everything…but wake up and smell your blood pouring into the little tubes. THEY DON’T KNOW – that’s why they have to steal half of your blood and run those damned tests…over and over. And then they take an educated guess and call it a diagnosis.

OK – so back at the rheumie’s office, I handed over my beloved black notebook. And this is nothing like the little black notebook carried around by the stereotypical womanizers looking to get laid.

OH NO – MY black notebook has MY copies of all my recent, pertinent medical labs & information such as the above mentioned list of medications, doctors names/addresses, etc. That way I don’t have to fill all that bullshit out over and over. I just write: “See MY list” and then piss the office personnel off because they have to copy all that shit. (In the past, I’ve gone with copies already made. But I’ve just gotten tired of doing all that work for a doc that’s probably gonna disappointment me and then expect me to pay for it! So if they want it – they can copy it using THEIR ink tanks – not mine!)

When I finally met the rheumatologist, it didn’t take me long to realize that this was the doc for whom I’ve been saving that special title. It didn’t take him long to convince me I was dealing with... Dr. SOB!!!!

Remember back in my post: Sporadic Rant when my gynecologist decided to partake in a little Lyme-bashing while I was almost naked, and I decided to just keep my damn mouth shut because that’s usually the best policy if you’re going to be probed with cold, large, metal instruments? Well honey, I was fully dressed; had my legs crossed; and I wasn't following the "keep your mouth shut" policy because Dr. SOB just kept pissing me off...and I wasn't in the mood!!

Dr. SOB basically said that doctors that believe in chronic, persistent Lyme disease are practically “CRIMINAL” (and that was the exact word he used!) AND that those who followed that line of belief were akin to a “CULT” (again, that was the exact word he used!)

Dr. SOB went on & on about some bullshit about IGeneX being “PAID OFF” so they would get positive results for ALL their Lyme tests. (Of course, I had previously surveyed quite a few people about lab results from IGeneX…and MANY have come back negative, so I knew that was just more bullshit!)

Anyway, Dr. SOB proceeded to try to “eat my lunch” by blathering on about fibromyalgia, and how I’m in the worst 2% and there’s no way it’s Lyme Disease, yet there’s nothing he can really do about the fibromyalgia…blah blah blah . He was so fervent in his disgust - just at the thought that fibromyalgia could be caused by Lyme that it was obvious to me (being the sensitive female that I am) that this was a “hot” button issue for him. It was most likely because he realized at some deep level that he’s just an ignorant son-of-a-bitch but he doesn’t know how to change because it would require him to swallow his very large pride - a pride he probably doesn’t even deserve to have! A shame really.

But HERE’S THE MIRACLE…

While Dr. SOB was talking – bashing lymies with such adamant disgust and literally talking down to me….I RESISTED THE URGE TO LUNGE ON TOP OF HIS DESK AND RIP HIS FILTY TONGUE FROM HIS MOUTH, AND RAM MY CANE DOWN HIS THROAT SO HE WOULD SHUT THE HELL UP.

I, being the sane, rational person I am, calmly told him that I needed him to speak to me with respect. I suggested that we come to understand that we disagree & suggested that perhaps we ‘move on’ with the exam because nothing he was saying was going to change my opinion with regards to what I have personally researched.

OK – I probably didn’t say it exactly like that because, like I said, I was RESISTING THE URGE TO LUNGE ON TOP OF HIS DESK AND RIP HIS FILTY TONGUE FROM HIS MOUTH, AND RAM MY CANE DOWN HIS THROAT SO HE WOULD SHUT THE HELL UP.

Multi-tasking is hard for me these days. Give me a break. I said something like that. This is one of those stories that changes a little bit every time it gets told….deal with it.

Anyway, Dr. SOB wanted to take about 7 vials of my precious blood, so I gave it up just so I could have the test results to show to future Dr. Dumb-Asses. I actually liked his office staff, despite the fact that the lab gal didn’t get my blood to clot so while I was checking out with the receptionist gal & she was telling me it would be $90 (which is about $60 more than my co-pay) and I was respectfully debating that, little did I know that half a pint of my blood was pouring from my arm onto my only good pair of fat jeans and onto Dr. SOB’s carpet. I was so upset about my jeans.

I told the lab gal I was on heparin. You’d think that would have meant something to her.

Hey – it just occurred to me that I haven’t told YOU about me being on heparin now. OK – I’ll do that later…don’t want to get side-tracked again!


Medical Messiah
A few days later a friend that I met over the internet came into town (from a far away place) to see the very doctor that I had been wanting to see: Dr. N. (When a person travels hundreds of miles to see a doc – that’s a pretty good indication that the doc knows a thing or two.)

We’ll call my friend: “BB” Although it kind of makes her sound like a stripper –I assure you she is not! She is a refined lady, and I am puzzled as to why she & I hit it off so well.

BB & I had a wonderful Sunday afternoon talking about a variety of subjects –mostly Lyme of course – which bored my family – but thrilled me to have someone to talk to about treatment protocols, antibiotics, alternative therapies, vitamins, magnesium, the political controversies, Camp A & Camp B… It was fun!

The next day, BB went to see Dr. N. During her appointment, BB mentioned that she had met me and gave Dr. N some information about my physical condition with regard to the Lyme.

According to BB, Dr. N said:

“Because you have told me this, it is now my moral obligation to treat her.”

(That quote is according to my memory, based on BB’s memory…and could very well change the next time I tell it.)

Anyway, Dr. N picked up the phone & called me. Naturally, I missed his first call & called him back as he instructed me to do on my voice mail. When I called back, the receptionist pulled him out of room where he was seeing a patient, and he talked to me on the phone for a couple of minutes asking me questions.

Then he said…

and HERE’S THE MIRACLE:

“Can you come see me TODAY at 4:30?”

Can I? Hell, I would have canceled a meeting with the President to see this doctor!

Getting in to see this doctor was an answer to prayer. I thank all the people that have been praying for me, because I really believe this doctor will help me.

I know, it sounds like I’m saying I’ve found the "Medical Messiah of Lyme" and I’m ready to worship at his feet. But that’s not it. I still realize, damn it, that doctors are human and are capable of mistakes. I just feel like my survival rate has increased because he has taken me on as a patient.

I FINALLY feel like I’m in competent hands with regards to the Lyme disease. That is a HUGE relief!

I know I may not always like what he says or does, and that I certainly don’t have to endure any bullshit if he wakes up and decides to give me some. BUT – I NEED a doc that knows about this disease.

Dr. N KNOWS about this disease….and at this point that is a miracle, indeed.