Fight
As I sat in the waiting room for three and a half hours I thought about various things, including trying to decide why I felt slightly nervous. I came to the conclusion it's because I'm not good at fighting and a doctor visit is a kind of fight. The fight involves making the doctor understand what you need, and then trying to extract something useful in a limited time.

She rightfully ran through a battery of tests and questions to get the overall picture, while I was saying, "I'm here for two reasons: one..." etc., etc. Although I can't have much influence over the "useful" part, I can over the "understand" part, which was why I took printed information with me. It remains to be seen what will happen, as she's going to contact a couple of people then email me. The last thing I said before I followed the long route out was, "I wanted to talk to the office people about the new patient packet. Why isn't that online?"
DrC: I don't think they are that technologically savvy.
Me: !!! It could just be a form you fill out online - I can't write, so it was difficult.
DrC: It should at least be something you can fill out then print and bring in.

She is also connected to an unconnected-to-ms issue which is vaguely interesting, although I am not able to pursue everything all at once, either financially, physically, or even just by inclination.
DrC: (paraphrase) That killed my father.
DrC: Of course, he was 83.
Me: Well... 83!

I'm extremely limited in medical choices - like, extremely, dude. Since I depend upon savings to survive anything I spend now comes off the other end - when, one hopes, one will be dead. A couple of years ago I was confident I'd be dead before I ran out of money, but now I've perked up a bit so it's not assured. Two years ago I was motivated to start writing a will after I developed a fever and wound up on the floor* for a few days, ha ha. It was annoying that the meat puppet is so hard to kill off :-D It will go on for years, dwindling down to nothing - not very useful.

I have a few little trails I'd like to travel, but alone and with very limited energy and money their accomplishment is very difficult. Still, it's very interesting - so don't think I'm sad about it. It's just the cogitation of the month, because going to the neuro, a once-a-decade-or-less occurence for me, makes these thoughts come to the forefront.

* That's why I keep ibuprofen and a phone book on the floor.

Labels: Cogitation