Bucking the Medico Madness

Ever since my last visit to Dracula the oncological egomaniac, my resentment of his methods and statements has grown.  I am given to delayed reactions.  It is my nature.  So, I just kind of puzzled over his attitude while there.

Then it downed on me;  if the issue he has stubbornly confined himself to addressing is the level of various blood components, why schedule an appointment without a lab to see if the new poison regimen is working out?  And, if a lab were scheduled and he has no desire to troubleshoot further, why bother with the appointment?  He can call and say to take more, take less, or he could say, "Hey, I pulled my head out of my posterior long enough to realize maybe I need to check for xyz, since my initial dx seems slightly flawed".

Anyway, I called his office and they claim to have put a lab request in and canceled the appointment.  I told them I was disturbed that the guy obviously did not spend even a minute reviewing my file prior to the last visit.  His questions were that of a person who could get someone killed by refusal to just look, double check, Think, for crying out loud!

If I had no symptoms why would I even be there?  I am one who doesn't look for problems and could care less what tests show if I am feeling well.  For a doctor to tell me symptoms from the disease or the "cure" have nothing to do with blood values is enough to get that doctor punched out.  This is why I never go alone any more.

I expect him to take great umbrage at me daring to second guess him, or catch his mistake about the lab.  It may be the death of me.  I can tell you that this bullshit subsidized care is such that they do what they can to kill you if it is cheaper than treating you.  I am not so sure I blame them, except they pretend to be cutting edge, best practice, best survival hope and they pretend in their PR to care.   That is the sickening thing, the pretense and the dishonesty, not to mention the offhanded arrogance coupled with incompetence.

I suddenly have a desire to fix this thing somehow, just so I can throw up the finger to the whole system and particularly those who are too dumb to know they are not the brightest people in the room, and they have no right to make people suffer when they could do otherwise.

Geez.  I know what I am sounding like.  Anyway, I think I have made a move that will either bring some worthwhile communication and action to the process, or I made an enemy out of someone who is not functioning as an asset or ally at this point anyway.

I know I sound like a broken record and someone who bitches all the time but I am not really like that, I don't think.  I am just still sick of this, and of the fact it can't be explained to someone in any way that makes sense to them.  Thank God for the internet at times like this.  Others have similar symptoms for a variety of ills, and others deal with the bureaucrats.  There are a couple of groups that have good info; AP--aquagenic pruritus, and MPN--myeloproliferative neoplasms.  Lots of cutting edge stuff from everywhere.

The common foe for many of these people is the ignorance and arrogance of medical professionals.  Then there are those who have really good luck with professionals in the field.  Those are the ones whose experience helps others find workable solutions to these things.  It seems that the Mayo, or Mayonnaise, Clinic is a good place to go.  Scripps, is hit or miss.  Many horror stories about being marginalized and treated like dirt.  I won't put up with it, so I at least won't be in the system going down the wrong path should they not come around.

I have an ace in the hole; a crack hematologist who will give full attention to all info I can give him.  Too bad he is in Iowa, but his letter based on initial data helped get me to this point.  His theories were broadly proven correct.

Also, I somehow managed to get a fair amount of the poison pill refilled.  Enough to last awhile. I am also not afraid to increase or decrease dose on my own based on various symptoms, and data, should the lab order actually be submitted.

I wonder what happens if I do nothing?  But I know.  Bummer. I prefer the do nothing option.

Lucy and Baxter

Once again, I am house sitting and baby sitting a huge white dog.  This is not Max the dog though.  He suddenly became affected by an aggressive form of cancer--bone, I think--and was put down.  The owners were so depressed they decided to just go to Ramona to visit puppies and such at the Great Pyrenees factory run by a woman who must like having a lot of dogs around.

This dog is Frank.  When they went to visit the factory, they said hello to all the breeders and puppies, then they encounter a three year old misfit who was a rescue.  They were all set to go home and come back another time until he gave them "the look".  So, the brought him home.

Frank is not normal.  I think he is an empath, or otherwise semi-psychic.   He began life in northern California.  My guess is that he was in the employ of rednecks as only this state can produce.  He kept running away in the last year.  The actual dog psychic, who has proven useful in the old vet office, even though no one would openly admit consulting her, claims that Frank was on a ranch or farm, protecting animals, and that they were either being slaughtered on site or otherwise suffering less than blissful lives.

He isn't exactly gun shy, but, especially at first, appeared to slightly flinch at times.   He just lays down and plays invisible.  Or he did.  Then if you show him some affection he kind of melts into it.  Very smart animal.  He looks you in the eye with a soulful, searching gaze, like he is reading your mind.  I like this guy.  He very rarely barks.

But he will go see who is coming and make sure they are OK.  No bullying people or creatures, but I'd want his 100LB self with me if someone tried to harm me.  He is subtly protective.  Hard to explain this creature.  I am sure he understands what I try to explain.

On walks, sometimes he just stops and waits until I look him in the eye, pet him and let him know he's OK.  Then he happily continues on his way.  The collar is so loose that it pulled right over his head the first time he stopped.  He looked at me seemingly waiting for me to put it back on to keep up appearances.  

I take my friends old 4runner and cart him down to Shelter Island for an early morning stroll.  Others sometimes have the same idea.  I have to wonder why people who have dogs that hate other people and animals bother bringing their aberrant pets somewhere where others have to contend with them.  Fortunately they are on leashes.  I do not hold to the adage that there are no bad dogs, on;y bad people.   Any thinking person who has been around the block knows that there are plenty of each.

Probably the same people with creep dogs are the ones who say that.  The cool goofs who hate their own species.  That still gets me.  Somehow those people think that hating your own species is a sign of intelligence.  Oh well.

Lucy was not one such person.  She was there with Baxter, a small to medium sized curly haired girl dog.  A nice gentle young pup.  Lucy, too.  At least I introduced myself while the dogs sniffed one another's interesting bits.   Somehow I don't think the idea escaped either of us.  Being genteel, shy folk, we settled for a smile and a nod.

Introducing myself is a sign that my desire to be more gregarious is taking hold, ever so slightly.

I will go back.  She was kind of cute, and may be as incredibly interesting as I am, and also may have just fallen down the rabbit hole, or between the seams somewhere along the way.  Unlike the hell lady with the shepherd pup.  She didn't have it on a leash and it ran to see Frankie.  He is very calm and polite to other animals.  She comes running and screaming, "not cool!!  not cool!" repeat ad infinitum.  All the while giving me a dirty look like it was my fault.  Her pup was too young to be a jerky shepherd.  Hey, many are.  Not all, but some. Inbred, or closet nazis, who knows.  So there was no issue. No need to panic.  

She grabbed the pup and ran back where she came from, after hooking his leash up.  All the while sneering at me in her hysterical, "NOT COOL!!!" panic.  I was waiting for her to call me "Mister Man".  I like Lucy better, and Baxter too.

Even though Not Cool was a cute pup, I think Hell Lady will see to it that he fulfills his maximum potential to be a hell dog jerk soon enough.

Really.  I would never say I am a dog person because I have encountered way too many dog owners who take no responsibility for their animals and use them as a way to inflict harassment upon others.  And if someone says, hey your uninvited dog tore my stocking, pissed on my baby stroller, made me wreck my bike, etc., all of a sudden you are the horrible, hateful person who abuses animals.

Screw that.  I don't keep animals bred to run cooped up in a little townhouse then pretend I am so compassionate and loving.  No those people are sick fuquits who have a passive aggressive streak larger than Fido's droppings which they pick up only if someone is watching.

Lucy and Baxter seem nice though.  She did not appear to be using the pooch as an alter ego.  And it is the type of critter that is fine in most environments. Indoors or out.  I will head down there again, but the condition of my condition makes me wonder if I can even entertain ideas of any sort of partner.  I can do things but need a ton of off time from most things too.

You never know.