Struggling

2015-11-262015-11-26 Miss Poison Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Doctors, Honesty, Insomnia, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pain Management, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Thanksgiving, Writing

It is the early morning hours of Thanksgiving Day here in the States. After spending hours preparing stuffing yesterday (which I highly suspect might suck today), I ended up with a highly stressful day which resulted in a migraine. That then turned into insomnia, which is the only reason I am awake at such an hour. Turns out, Patient X is not the only one in pain. 😦 Poor kid.

Lucky for him, he has a sister/maid who will go back to the hospital tomorrow to pick up a prescription and take it to the pharmacy on Black Friday, a day I avoid like the fucking plague because of the insanity that ensues, all because his doctor did not see fit to prescribe the appropriate amount of pain medication upon discharge. I thought it was an incredibly odd number seeing as how he’s supposed to take twelve pills a day until he’s healed enough to not be in such severe pain. He is healing, the swelling and bruising are almost fully gone, but he’s still in an incredible amount of pain. I couldn’t stand by as if it weren’t happened as the pills diminished.

I realize there are always pre-holiday emergencies, but it shouldn’t take a doctor’s office nearly twelve hours to return two phone calls where the words “pain management” are used. I find that unacceptable.

Moreover, not being able to call a prescription in to the pharmacy in an emergency simply because it is a controlled substance, even if it means faxing a hard copy from your office or sending the hard copy via FedEx, is a major time and energy drain on caregivers. I realize doctors and PAs are busy covering their own asses on this shit, that patients do NOT come first, but it makes me angry that my brother is in severe pain and that I, in my agony, have no choice but to schlep somewhere I don’t want to be in order to get the appropriate medication for him. It should have been done correctly the first time, except now, I am going to be fully present and since his voice still isn’t better, they’re going to have to put up with mine, and oh, how loud can I go?!

The physician’s assistant was the epitome of rude, dismissive, and unprofessional (I’d like to think she’s just stupid and/or had a stressful day that she would have preferred to be spending somewhere else with family, but I was then informed that she’s always like that, so I knew it wasn’t simply my perception.) and proceeded to lecture me on post-op appointment scheduling. Excuse me; I’m NOT his secretary. I was not handed the discharge papers, so outside of dispensing medication and doing a plethora of other things that contribute to my misery, I am also supposed to be a mind-reader. News flash: There’s no such thing as mind-readers. Also, the job of physician’s assistant to a surgeon is basically glorified prescription pad, especially when you don’t know how to communicate with people as if they’re human-beings. Instead of wasting time acquiring healthcare experience before entering the three year program, I strongly suggest going to medical school and then try giving me attitude. I get to say this because it’s the truth. If you happen to be a PA and you’re reading this, I can only hope you treat people the way you’d want to be treated and don’t hang up on people mid-sentence. When you work with the public in any form, it is crucial to be courteous and respectful. For the record, I said nothing to warrant the ‘tude. If anything, I was overly polite and respectful. I won’t make that mistake again.

Is it convenient that they only see patients on Tuesdays? No. Instead of being able to enjoy some semblance of a holiday weekend this snit tells me to “call on Friday to get him into the office on the 1st”. Because apparently, Lisa has no life of her own and can drop everything on Tuesday so as to miss her own doctor’s appointment. I would like to know precisely when I entered a life of servitude. I wonder if there’s a uniform…

At this point I can only assume I am over-tired, hungry, feeling the effects of the Full Moon (If anyone else saw it rise last night, was it uncharacteristically enormous?), and/or in desperate need of hitting something. It might very well be a combination of all of the above. I can deal with that because it’s honest.

However, to add insult to injury, Patient X is running a fever and might very well need to return to the hospital tomorrow to be certain he does not have another post-op infection. If he does have another infection (which would be lucky number three), I will be on the 10 o’clock news in the Philadelphia area demanding that this hospital be investigated.

I wish I were able to set aside real life and focus solely on fiction (it’s a far better world on paper, as is often the case), but sometimes a writer has to be supremely real and not gloss the serious shit over. I may not currently be writing about NaNoWriMo, WIP’s, my experience editing this or that, or spewing nonsense, but at the beginning and end, I’m going to be real. I’d rather be respected for that side of me than have someone fuss over something completely unimportant.

There’s no rest for the wicked. Only the good die young, so I’m going to be here forever!

Wishing everyone stateside & all members of our Armed Forces a Happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else in this world; have an amazing Thursday where your priorities in life supersede all the bullshit.

My Apologies

2015-11-232015-11-24 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Fibromyalgia, Heart Health, Honesty, Life, Life Vest, Migraines, My Brother, Pain, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Thanksgiving, Writing

Hi everyone! I know this isn’t a typical visiting experience at the moment, but I assure you I am doing my best.

When you’re caring for a post-op heart patient, every single day blends into the one before. I likely wouldn’t know it was Monday if I hadn’t intentionally bypassed Friday and Saturday’s normal routine of running errands, only to overdo it yesterday. I have spent a lot of time putting off every aspect of my life to dispense medication at regular intervals, to pour drinks (apparently I close everything very tightly, who knew?), and coax Patient X to eat a few times a day. These may seem like simple tasks, and they are, but if I leave the room for 45 minutes, sometimes less, I hear a tiny voice asking “Are you hiding from me? Am I making you sick?” That’s if I listen for it.

The fact of the matter is: I like silence and privacy. In fact, I crave these things. I don’t like being up ’til 3:00 a.m. unless it is my choice to do so. I don’t like sitting on the couch for 4-8 hours a day in order to keep someone entertained, because while the TV is clearly on in order to “entertain”, I can’t watch anything I truly want to see (I spent an hour in my room late Saturday night watching an episode of a show that ends in a few weeks because I can’t do so downstairs; some asshole didn’t want to see it and despite the fact that it’s my remote, it’s not worth it.). I find myself looking down at my phone a LOT, and no matter what I do to try to be in bed by 10:30 each night, I cannot sleep.

If you have any experience with a cardiac life-saving device called “Life Vest”, you know that this device can go off for any reason, even while changing the battery. Thursday morning the piercing sound threw me out of bed in its utter alarm, and I went flying down the stairs to make sure he was alive and conscious. He later told me I shouldn’t have panicked; the device has a 100% success rate at reviving someone if anything should go wrong. It’s intended purpose is to shock you back to life if need be, and it can probably be heard down the street. Mind you, from the second they put it on him, he has complained that it’s the equivalent of a “male bra”. It does sort of look like a sports bra and it looks uncomfortable because there’s so much to it, so I’ve had to listen to it go off several times over the last week. I tried sleeping through it Friday morning, as it was still dark. Saturday it went off in the early evening hours, but it was still annoying as all hell to hear the sound out of nowhere. Not as annoying as someone dying in my presence (No thanks, I’ll pass.), but it’s simply that noise itself does not agree with this chronic sufferer of migraines.

Certain types of noise are triggers and unfortunately, I never know what will cause a migraine. I only recently switched up my medication, but I did have a very long stretch over the last few weeks where one migraine lasted over a week. I had no choice but to ride it out. 😦

Today, I hurt from my neck to my toes. There’s not a part of my body that doesn’t feel bruised and battered. Okay, there are a few parts that are okay, but that’s about it.

Thanksgiving in the U.S. is this Thursday. In my last-minute prep attempt, I decided what to make and bought everything yesterday. I am grateful that no one in their right mind thinks it’s acceptable for me to make an entire turkey for two people. I cannot fathom tackling that at the moment. Every turkey I so much as glanced at was over 20 pounds, but since they were frozen solid on top of that, who knows how much they actually weighed. I found something small that will fit the bill. I don’t expect it to last more than two days, which is perfect. Wednesday I will make the stuffing in advance (Let’s face it, I will be eating stuffing Wednesday night. I am addicted.) so that I don’t have to cook for hours on Thursday. Patient X is on a little-to-no salt, low-fat diet. I’ve already broken multiple health rules in order to get him to eat. I’m making a small amount for him with as little sodium as possible. He has told me for nearly a week now that everything I’ve made is “full of flavor”. Apparently that is the component missing in all hospital food. I can safely make sure that the rest of the stuffing actually tastes like something though (Yay!). I’m contemplating a citrus base for the main course. If only I had known in advance that I’d have a sudden craving for mashed potatoes, I would have also put that into consideration because apparently this is a carb kind of week. I still might make them, at the last-minute, providing I have a medication run to use as an “excuse” to do it. As things stand now, I might very well need to get another pie too. While completely unnecessary, it does make Patient X happy. Personally I don’t want vegetables made into pie, but perhaps that’s the American in me. Pie should be something enjoyable if you’re going to have it at all.

I am exhausted, in a lot of pain, caring for someone I normally can’t tolerate for more than short periods of time, and I still have my real life going on amidst all that. I’ve shelved as much as I can for the remainder of the year, but there is still much to do. The last thing I can even bother to think about at the moment are the truly stupid things in life. Wow, that statement covers so much…perhaps one day I will write about it. Hell, I’m lucky I remembered to pay my bills this month with all that’s going on! 😦

I hate the holiday season. It is a constant reminder that I am alone in this world, that my family is gone, and that those who are still alive (minus a few people) are horrible human-beings.

Despite amazing friends and loved ones, despite the adorable sweetness of Cat and Kitten, the holidays suck for me. I did get some nice gifts in advance of Chanukah (Shout out to my awesome Aunt.) and two belated birthday gifts (Again, my Aunt, but also a fabulous necklace from Sweet Blossom Gifts that I adore. If you’re going to be shopping on-line this year and you want something personalized and unique, I highly recommend them. They have everything from coffee mugs and pillows to jewelry. I can say for a fact that the jewelry is stunning in person and their prices are very reasonable.) that were such a lovely surprise (If you know the name of one of my favorite stores, you know I will be hitting up the post-holiday sale.), but I won’t be gift-giving this year. Things are simply too stressful and I have absolutely no time to do it. I barely know my name, the last place I need to be is a store. I also lack the desire to do anything for anyone over the age of five. Everyone knows they’re in my heart and that I am there for them 24/7. They don’t need expensive gifts to remind them of that fact. Sometimes, people truly just want to be thought of in a positive way. I’d rather someone send me a card and tell me something of value as opposed to forcing themselves into stores and not taking the time to enjoy the season itself. Those are precious moments. Actions are just as important as words.

I am trying, with all of my might, to get through the remainder of the year with my head firmly on my shoulders. Patient X has a long road to recovery (If one more person tells me he will be chopping tress down in six months, I will hit them. For starters, he’s never chopped a tree in his life, so I highly doubt he’s going to take that up once he’s healed.) and while he is indeed healing (there’s been remarkable improvement this week), he is also weak and will definitely require physical therapy. His vocal cords are still pretty bad, but hopefully I will know more after his first post-op appointment after Thanksgiving. The fact that I’ll be able to force him off of my couch and into the fresh air, albeit cold, for several hours almost makes me giddy. The not so giddy part is that I do have to go with him, otherwise I won’t know precisely what the doctor says. Let’s just say that the anesthesia that was used has some side effects and there are parts of his memory that simply aren’t there at the moment, which is quite scary for me to hear, but scarier for him because he knows he should know these things and keeps wondering why his brain is foggy and he can’t form coherent thoughts or access his memories. If ever I find that anesthesiologist, I might have to sit him down and explain certain things to him in thinly veiled threats. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do it and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

If you’re celebrating this week, I wish you a wonderful, happy, and safe holiday. If you’re not, I wish you were coming to my house so I could cook for you. 😉

Be safe on Black Friday. It’s a fucking jungle of psychosis fueled by insane amounts of caffeine. I will be as far away from the madness as possible. Of course, I will still have someone hogging my TV and eating my food. If you see a good-looking man being auctioned off on eBay, I assure you I’m the seller. LOL.

shoppingwith — This has been me, for nearly a month. I’m not 100% sure what I’m even buying any more.

Patient X

2015-11-16 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Heart Health, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Medication, Musings, My Brother, Patient X, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing

Patient X is being released into my care this evening after major surgery at the beginning of the month. Discharge was repeatedly delayed by post-op illness and absolute idiocy on the part of doctors arguing over proper procedure. It took them nearly a week to discover that he had not one, but two separate infections. Thank G-d for Infectious Disease Specialists who put their foot down. #Respect Of course, the fact that I called the head of the hospital and informed them that discharging a cardiac patient with an infection is grounds for a lawsuit might very well have secured his bed for an additional three days. For the record, I try never to use the word “lawsuit”, except when it pertains to protecting my family’s health, their rights, or rights in general that may be in a violation type of situation. I know people who throw the word around way too often for no reason. It shouldn’t be used lightly.

I’m nervous about taking care of him for eight weeks (twelve if there are any setbacks) while he isn’t allowed to drive or do much, except the most basic things. For the next two months, the heaviest thing he can lift is a gallon of milk. In 4-6 weeks, longer if insurance delays it, he is supposed to have a second procedure done to ensure that his heart returns to 100% in terms of function. It’s a procedure that should only take a few days. The surgeon informed me that one or more procedures may need to be re-done in 25 years. However, this surgery has given my brother a new lease on life. Never before this absolute wake-up call would he have agreed to quit smoking or make healthier choices in regard to his health. It is sad that it had to come to something so severe, but I am determined to do what I can to make sure he heals properly and adheres to this new “heart healthy” lifestyle. It’s a serious change, but if he wants to live longer than either of our parents did (the situations were, obviously, quite different), then he is going to have to do his level best to commit.

Open heart surgery is rough. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. Hearing him struggle to breathe, cough, and move makes me ill. Knowing that his vocal cords need additional time to heal, along with his heart and wounds, just plain saddens me. That a single soul would tell me to leave for my move and let him recover alone pisses me off. I thank G-d this happened when I was physically in a position to do something to help and was not hundreds or thousands of miles away. In a situation like this, you do not want to get the dreaded phone call. Every time the phone rings and it’s the hospital, I get ill. Once he is released to me as a “patient”, he probably won’t be too thrilled, but he has already said he’s just so happy to be alive that he doesn’t care what I say or do. We’ll see how long that lasts.

I am sure I will utterly lose my head when I find out the total of the roughly fifteen prescriptions he’s going to have to take, only some of which are for the next six months. His surgeon assured him that nearly everything was cheap because they’re generics, but someone ought to clue the doctor in that even Walmart has a list of medications that are on their list of drugs they’ll cover for $4-$10, based on the number of pills and how long it’s prescribed for, but that the others are nowhere near the word “cheap”. The cost of medication in this country is utterly insane, but it’s right up there with the cost of healthcare, one of the biggest rackets on the planet. There is no possible way not to get a headache dealing with the drama.

Over the weekend I received the first bill for two separate tests they ran when he was admitted last month. The physicians who billed will have to whistle Dixie while dead before they see a penny from me. Process that shit to the insurance company, don’t send it to a third-party who isn’t a legal guardian. I am not allowed to stress out Patient X, lest he tear something inside his chest, so I haven’t told him about the bill. I won’t be telling him about any that come. I’m just going to get on the phone quietly and handle what needs to be handled. If you hear about me on the news, don’t be surprised.

As of this evening I will start accepting all gifts of alcohol (or dark chocolate) because I am almost certain my new “water bottle” is going to have vodka in it the second he whines or complains about anything I do. He texted me this morning to make sure his ginger ale would be “ice cold” for his arrival. Tomorrow I get to make Jello and pudding, like a proper little Real Housewife from Hell. 😛 If I get hit by a vehicle this week, it may or may not have been of my own volition. On a good day, there’s only so much bullshit I can take. On a bad day, well, you don’t want to know what I’m like on a bad day.

In preparation for all the fun I’m about to have tonight, and in the weeks to follow, I may or may not attempt to drown myself in the shower. But first, I need to find Cat and Kitten and get some unconditional love. I open their cans; they know where their bread is buttered. LOL. Is it too late for a straitjacket?