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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 4 of 4. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Racer on May 5, 2004, at 11:38:56
Yesterday was the worst day yet. Up until now, I've been able to keep everything at bay pretty well -- occasional crying fits, but mostly just sort of dull and stunned. Yesterday, though, I fell apart entirely. I've sent off the scans to a friend's father in New York for a second opinion, so I've done what I can. The big problem, though, is that I had a root canal, and took a painkiller. It stripped me of my ability to keep going. It was just impossible. Crying desperately, feeling as if I were going to fly apart without any way to survive. I finally got out a bottle of xanax my dentist had prescribed some time ago, and just knocked myself out with it.
I don't know that I can go through much more of this. I still haven't heard from the clinic that will be arranging the next set of tests, still no way to ask the questions I have, all I can do is wait for someone else to do something else and hope that I can survive the stress of waiting. I've read the report myself now, and it's not quite as bad as it sounded when the physician's assistant called to say it was "suspicious for malignancy," but it's bad enough and I want someone to tell me what it means. Sure, I understand the words, but I have no clue what it means from a medical standpoint.
It was so bad I called my therapist, who couldn't talk to me because she was too busy. She referred me to the afterhours support at the agency, but the person there wanted to "solve" it -- "well, call the doctor..." Guess what? That's not an option, because I have no doctor to call! That's another problem with this damned county system. There is no doctor to call, and I don't even know the number of the clinic to call. All I can do is wait and worry. ("Oh, don't waste your energy worrying until you know what it is..." Sure. You try it.) I need something NOW, and my only real option to get anything NOW is to go to the emergency psychiatric room. I'm at the point of doing that, because I just can't cope at all with the stress of this.
And you know the worst part? I know that they'll say the same thing I've been hearing from everyone else: "Well, you don't know what it is, so don't think about it..." It's just so totally unreasonable of me to be out of my mind with worry about this, since it might not be cancer. Didn't Tolstoy already tell us that it's impossible not to think of that white bear? Should I keep working on putting my life back together? Or should I start working on setting my affairs in order? What should my priorities be? Making it easier on my husband when I die? Making it easier for myself while I'm still alive by arranging our lives so that I can stay home as long as possible?
How can doctors do this to people? I know, because they've told me in so many ways already, that I obviously don't deserve respectful care since I'd have insurance if I deserved any consideration.
The most ironic thing is that I'm so afraid I'm going to die, and yet I'm so overcome by all this that I'm wishing I could just die right now to get out of this hell.
I guess if it made sense, I wouldn't suffer from mental illness, huh?
Posted by Racer on May 5, 2004, at 18:14:23
In reply to Utter meltdown, posted by Racer on May 5, 2004, at 11:38:56
This is just unbearable.
I spoke with my therapist earlier, and after going through the "well, what can you do to help yourself get through this?" routine, I finally said that the only thing I could come up with was to be as close to comatose until my next appointment. (Mind you, this was after a dozen other telephone calls to try to get some real help -- like a quicker appointment, or could the emergency psych ward help keep me from totally freaking out, etc -- and she said she'd talk to the doctor about ordering some benzos to get me through. Well, turns out my husband also called to try to talk to the doctor.
Haven't heard back from the therapist, but the doctor's office called my husband to say that he wouldn't do anything for me because I'd missed my appointments.
OK, that's reasonable -- from their standpoint. From my standpoint, it's back to the land of being punished, distrusting him, etc. Now I feel as if he's going to punish me for missing appointments, he's not going to work with me so much as just push his choice of drugs at me, and won't take my experience of life seriously. "It's not reasonable of you to want to be heard, and it's not my job to do anything to gain your trust. You come in here with your hands out, begging, and so all the power is in my hands."
What an irony: I'm so terrified I'm going to die in a painful, horrible way, and at the same time I'm in so much pain I can't stand to live. What's more, there's no place I can turn for relief from the pain.
Yes, I know, I can share the pain with you and thank whatever gods there are for that. The fact remains, none of you can provide what I need most right now, which is immediate relief to allow me to get through the next few days.
(I did get an appointment made. It's a week away. That will mean that it will be 3 and a half weeks in hell, and this appointment will probably be just a "well, here are our next steps" appointment. Not a "here's the definitive diagnosis" appointment. Can anyone here tell me if that is as unconscionable as it seems to me?)
I don't know how I'm going to get through tonight, let alone the rest of the week, the weekend, etc. At least if I could drug myself out of it, I could survive.
I'm waiting now for my therapist to call back, I left another message for her. I said that the response my husband got had just destroyed me, and I wanted her to confirm or deny that she had spoken to the doctor, and whether she had gotten the same response. Mind you, my husband got the general clinic voicemail, and a call back from a clerk. I'm hoping the therapist got something else, even if it was also "I won't do anything for her because I haven't seen her in so long" -- providing it was directly from the doctor.
No, I haven't been sitting around with my thumb up my butt. I called the dentist and said that the pain killer was killing the pain of the tooth, but that it was also stripping me of my ability to cope with the worry of the cancer watch. I said that it wasn't his responsibilty, but I couldn't get through to my doctor and couldn't seem to cope at all, and would he prescribe some xanax to help me get through the next few days. I haven't heard back from him, either.
This just shouldn't happen.
If the dentist calls and says no, I'm going to have my husband take me to the psych emergency room. Maybe they'll do the compassionate thing. I'd hate to have to go through that, but if I have to, I guess I have to.
Posted by shar on May 6, 2004, at 13:09:09
In reply to And it gets worse again, posted by Racer on May 5, 2004, at 18:14:23
Racer,
I don't know what kind of help I can offer except to say that your situation totally sucks, and I'm very sorry that you're having to deal with so many very stressful things at once. I wish I could be more of a support, or make things better.I believe you are very strong and can get through this, even though it is extremely difficult. I just hope like crazy that you won't stop taking care of yourself, that you'll sleep, eat, and maybe even get out of the house (if only standing on the front steps). An old AA expression is HALT--meaning don't get too hungry, angry, lonely or tired.
Keep posting and writing and doing whatever you can, as you wade through the molasses.
Shar
Posted by noa on May 7, 2004, at 17:37:32
In reply to And it gets worse again, posted by Racer on May 5, 2004, at 18:14:23
I agree with everything Shar said, Racer, and Shar said it a lot better than I could.
Take good care of yourself.
(I like that HALT acronym, too.)
This is the end of the thread.
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