If I haven’t made it clear before now… My doctor is a saint. Truly. He puts up with the craziness of his patients, the insurance companies, the federal government, etc., and still keeps his sense of humor.
Into this mixture comes me. High maintenance. Hates most if not all medicines. Asking questions about what more can be done to prevent the overnight throat mucus. (I’m already using enough eucalyptus oil in my bathroom to kill any insects that might want to wander in, and sleeping with my head about 4″ above my feet to promote drainage during sleeping).
The biggest recommendation is tea before bedtime. Tea. Yukko. Might as well drink down some dirt, it’s just that unappealing. And, that’s before one realizes that I stop all beverages about 7pm so that I don’t end up having an accident overnight due to other surgeries to tighten up my nether regions and give me more muscle control.
However, we talk about adding marshmallow (dietary supplement – not the candy) to my diet, as there is a theory that it may help with respiratory issues. Oh, and add vitamin D, too. Joy oh joy, but I’ll give it a try.
From there we get into where he’s at with the government paperwork, the lawyer’s requests, and the general level of nonsense to try and get me disability benefits.
He laughs and tells me not to look at the portal (where the patients can see their stats) as it will sound like I’m dying.
Even though I have less than a liter FEV1 capacity (the Federal Government’s statistic for when one qualifies for disability benefits), he still had to list all of my illnesses in the most dramatic fashion, and he doesn’t want me to think I’m sicker than I am if I read it.
So, we had a good laugh about the fact that I take joy in the fact that, during one of our disputes way back in 1996, he said I was going to die if I didn’t do EXACTLY what he was telling me to do. We had quite a laugh over the fact that I take pride in the fact that I’m so stubborn, I’m still here. And, I still pick and choose what I will and won’t do based on what my body says works for it.
There are plenty of days when I feel fine and wish I was working. And then there are plenty of other days when it’s all I can do to drag my butt out of bed. No answers here for how sick I am, but I’m still hoping that I will be able to be approved for benefits and then get into some sort of Federal program for “protected” workers so that I can find a job that won’t keep me in penury, and which also won’t fire me because I’m feeling like crap.
It’s still too soon to tell how this will all work out, but for now it’s as good as can be expected.