Tuesday, February 10, 2004
I know, it's been awhile...
...longer than I intended. It's confirmed. Last week. Mom is anemic again. I'm not surprised. I suspected as much. Probably the ibuprofen. That's not what bothers me.
The flies have begun to swarm. Again.
Endoscopy.
Where's the goddamn flyswatter?!?
I started posting her test results last Thursday, the day we got them, after discussing them thoroughly with MCS. The phone call ended with me crying. I know what's coming. We've been through this before. They'll make money off my mother, determine nothing, her anemia will reverse itself or maybe eventually kill her but in the meantime all the healers who haven't been able to heal her anemia, who have contributed nothing to her healing from anemia except to put her at risk every couple of months with yet another dose of barium or radiation, yet another risky scoping, will line their bank accounts with the government's money on my mother's behalf. One of these people once said to me, "What do you care? You're not paying for it." Yes I am. We're all paying for it by receiving substandard medical care for which the only back assed blessing, which descends like a curse, is that it is becoming more unavailable to an already large and increasing segment of the population.
"The thing is, MCS," I remember sobbing into the phone, "Here she is in front of me, I know she's anemic, and she's alive and aware and smiling, and I know she's fine, and she's going to get better..." and I trailed off, the rest, this is the rest: And, she'll probably heal herself, again, because the physicians have never healed her of this. Rather, at some times, they've complicated her problems and left me to get her out of it. And they want us to go through this again. I guess it's not about my mother, is it. It's about them. Damn. Should have figured that out sooner.
I'll be all posting the results. We've, or I've, been pretty busy since the flies began swarming. This time the effects of her anemia have kicked in very slowly. Until today it would have been impossible to tell she was anemic by her color. Today, though, she looked pale around the edges. Until today, although sleeping at about 12 hours each night, which is normal for her even at her best, she's been forgetting to nap. Until today, at least every other day, to some purpose or other, sometimes therapeutically in the driveway, she's walked some. Today, though, it kicked in. I know it has to be addressed. You'd think I'd be an old hand at this, able to direct it superbly by now.
It's become more difficult, not easier. With each new physician who opens her or his mouth, yet another contradiction appears. Without blinking, an endoscopy is suggested and I allow it to be scheduled early in March. This, with her colonoscopist's determination still ringing in my ears: "I never want to scope this woman again. She's 86. She's frail. I don't want to torture her again." Said after a procedure that appeared to go okay from the Vital Signs notes that were taken. That has to mean that my mother, despite what was written, did not bear the procedure well from a cooperation point of view and made the physician's job infinitely more difficult. She probably showed signs of discomfort that were unrepresented on the form. The colonoscopist, previous to the procedure, had been a cheerleader for the scoping, positive that my mother would sail through. I thought she did but the colonoscopist's final recommendation was, "If they [meaning her PCP and her hematologist] want to continue to look further for GI bleeding [which had not been found by her] I don't recommend she be scoped, again. The testing should be confined to imaging."
I calmly take note of the haste with which the endoscopy is scheduled. I know the excuse is "anemia", the urgency of its diagnosis. My mother lived for almost a year with any formal medical treatment before. What does "urgent" mean? One doctor, at one point during our last bout, became hysterical, fairly shouted at me, "You don't want her to require transfusions!" She hasn't required transfusions. She never did. She lived with this for almost a year, no one was able to heal it. Every time it remitted it had nothing to do with anything a physician did.
I read on WebMD that endoscopies imply "special risks" to "the elderly", "the frail", "the physically weak". Right now my mother is all of these. None of these were addressed by her Prescott PCP or the scheduler.
The scheduler was cheery and bright and talked about her 92 year old mother shoveling snow in Minnesota. My mother does not shovel snow. Unless she receives a miraculous super-healing for which no one's thought to ask she will never shovel snow again.
I read that the patient is semi-conscious during the procedure. During the procedure there may be a variety of uncomfortable internal sensations which the patient may need to communicate to the doctor which will be possible by the patient tapping on the portion of the tube extending from her throat. My mother will not tap on the tube. My mother won't even remember the explanation of reasons why she might need to tap on the tube. My mother will communicate nothing to them except when her vitals indicate she is in danger.
There are a variety of uncomfortable effects from the procedure...some lasting hours, some lasting days...I recall mention that at least one could last a week or more.
Jesusfuckingchrist. Now what. Now what.
I've asked the acupuncturist to address her anemia if it is within the purview of the science/art. We'll find out tomorrow at her regularly scheduled appointment.
I was finally able to get an Rx for physical therapy from the doctor and with much luck and general gratitude have found the perfect therapist. That, at least is good.
I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
I don't know.
Physicians, heal thy art. Please. Soon.
Later.
The flies have begun to swarm. Again.
Endoscopy.
Where's the goddamn flyswatter?!?
I started posting her test results last Thursday, the day we got them, after discussing them thoroughly with MCS. The phone call ended with me crying. I know what's coming. We've been through this before. They'll make money off my mother, determine nothing, her anemia will reverse itself or maybe eventually kill her but in the meantime all the healers who haven't been able to heal her anemia, who have contributed nothing to her healing from anemia except to put her at risk every couple of months with yet another dose of barium or radiation, yet another risky scoping, will line their bank accounts with the government's money on my mother's behalf. One of these people once said to me, "What do you care? You're not paying for it." Yes I am. We're all paying for it by receiving substandard medical care for which the only back assed blessing, which descends like a curse, is that it is becoming more unavailable to an already large and increasing segment of the population.
"The thing is, MCS," I remember sobbing into the phone, "Here she is in front of me, I know she's anemic, and she's alive and aware and smiling, and I know she's fine, and she's going to get better..." and I trailed off, the rest, this is the rest: And, she'll probably heal herself, again, because the physicians have never healed her of this. Rather, at some times, they've complicated her problems and left me to get her out of it. And they want us to go through this again. I guess it's not about my mother, is it. It's about them. Damn. Should have figured that out sooner.
I'll be all posting the results. We've, or I've, been pretty busy since the flies began swarming. This time the effects of her anemia have kicked in very slowly. Until today it would have been impossible to tell she was anemic by her color. Today, though, she looked pale around the edges. Until today, although sleeping at about 12 hours each night, which is normal for her even at her best, she's been forgetting to nap. Until today, at least every other day, to some purpose or other, sometimes therapeutically in the driveway, she's walked some. Today, though, it kicked in. I know it has to be addressed. You'd think I'd be an old hand at this, able to direct it superbly by now.
It's become more difficult, not easier. With each new physician who opens her or his mouth, yet another contradiction appears. Without blinking, an endoscopy is suggested and I allow it to be scheduled early in March. This, with her colonoscopist's determination still ringing in my ears: "I never want to scope this woman again. She's 86. She's frail. I don't want to torture her again." Said after a procedure that appeared to go okay from the Vital Signs notes that were taken. That has to mean that my mother, despite what was written, did not bear the procedure well from a cooperation point of view and made the physician's job infinitely more difficult. She probably showed signs of discomfort that were unrepresented on the form. The colonoscopist, previous to the procedure, had been a cheerleader for the scoping, positive that my mother would sail through. I thought she did but the colonoscopist's final recommendation was, "If they [meaning her PCP and her hematologist] want to continue to look further for GI bleeding [which had not been found by her] I don't recommend she be scoped, again. The testing should be confined to imaging."
I calmly take note of the haste with which the endoscopy is scheduled. I know the excuse is "anemia", the urgency of its diagnosis. My mother lived for almost a year with any formal medical treatment before. What does "urgent" mean? One doctor, at one point during our last bout, became hysterical, fairly shouted at me, "You don't want her to require transfusions!" She hasn't required transfusions. She never did. She lived with this for almost a year, no one was able to heal it. Every time it remitted it had nothing to do with anything a physician did.
I read on WebMD that endoscopies imply "special risks" to "the elderly", "the frail", "the physically weak". Right now my mother is all of these. None of these were addressed by her Prescott PCP or the scheduler.
The scheduler was cheery and bright and talked about her 92 year old mother shoveling snow in Minnesota. My mother does not shovel snow. Unless she receives a miraculous super-healing for which no one's thought to ask she will never shovel snow again.
I read that the patient is semi-conscious during the procedure. During the procedure there may be a variety of uncomfortable internal sensations which the patient may need to communicate to the doctor which will be possible by the patient tapping on the portion of the tube extending from her throat. My mother will not tap on the tube. My mother won't even remember the explanation of reasons why she might need to tap on the tube. My mother will communicate nothing to them except when her vitals indicate she is in danger.
There are a variety of uncomfortable effects from the procedure...some lasting hours, some lasting days...I recall mention that at least one could last a week or more.
Jesusfuckingchrist. Now what. Now what.
I've asked the acupuncturist to address her anemia if it is within the purview of the science/art. We'll find out tomorrow at her regularly scheduled appointment.
I was finally able to get an Rx for physical therapy from the doctor and with much luck and general gratitude have found the perfect therapist. That, at least is good.
I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
I don't know.
Physicians, heal thy art. Please. Soon.
Later.
