I saw the doctor that I had last year when I had the cellulitis/leg infection that landed me in the hospital.  Now, I know he isn't that nicest doctor and that he focuses way too much on my weight.  I knew that going in, but he's close by, he's not very expensive (which, with no insurance is a big deal) and I figured this is something not that difficult to deal with.  All I needed was a refill on my pain medications, pretty much. 

Well, we got there and waited for almost an hour before he deemed me worthy of being in his presence.  Of course, he saw multiple drug reps while we waited.  At one time there were five drug company reps in the office.  Yes, you read that right, five of them, all from different companies.  And we wonder why prescription drugs cost us an arm and a leg in the USA? 

That's a rant for another day, though. 

I finally got called into the exam room, the nurse takes my temperature and pulse, tries to take my blood pressure, but since I have a very large shirt on, the cuff is too tight.  She's not bright enough to let me move it out of the way, and says she'll have the doctor do it. 

On her way out of the room, she decides to ask why I'm there, and what meds I'm on.  I tell her about the ER visit and the costochondritis, she comes back a minute later to find out what dosage of Lortab I'm on. 

And we wait.  Tony's in the room with me and we notice that the exam table paper is from Pfizer, it has Viagra and pictures of Viagra tablets all over it.  The room is covered in posters advertising various drugs, there is a box of tissues from a drug company, a plastic stomach from a drug company. 

It's friggin' prescription drug advertising central in there.  I'm surprised that the nurses don't have scrub tops that say "Sponsored by drug of the day" on their backs. 

The doctor (and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word) comes in, I tell him what's going on, he reaches over and using his knuckles, digs into my chest, not once, twice or even three times, but four times.  Now, my chest already feels like someone is stabbing me with poison covered pitchforks and I'm completely out of pain medication.   

He sits down, explains that costochondritis is hard to treat.  Yeah, you give antiinflammatories, pain meds, and wait it out, most of the time.  Real hard?  Right. 

He then pokes me in the chest, again, with his knuckles, while explaining that if it doesn't go away they can inject cortizone and some other shit to help it. 

I'm gasping in pain by this point.  My eyes are brimming with tears and my cane hand is itching to raise up and break my cane over his fucking head. 

He tells me he'll write me a prescription for Naproxen.  I ask him about pain meds.  "Are you hurting that bad?"  Well, no shit Sherlock, I'm on the verge of tears, gasping to breath because of the pain, and pale as a ghost, but I'm in no pain.  The main fucking symptom of this stupid condition is pain, moron. 

Enough insult, right?  Ha, I say, ha. 

He then, again brings up Gastric Bypass Surgery.  Now, last October when he brought this up I told him point blank, no.  I'm not mutilating my body.  I've researched it enough to know that I'm not willing to take the chance of all the things that can happen with GBS. 

And I'm not fucking there to discuss my weight, nor was I in October. 

I refuse, tell him that I'm there for the costochondritis, not my weight.  He asks again, I tell him I am not having this surgery and he stomps out. 

A few minutes later, the nurse brings me my prescriptions.  Now, there are still drug reps all over the waiting room, there are ads for drugs everywhere. 

He's decided that I need 1/3 of the dosage of pain medication and now only every 6 hours instead of every 4.  I'm already in pain and seeing that I'm going to be in pain constantly pushes me over the edge. 

I burst into tears, Tony gets me settled in the van and goes back in.  The nurse won't even let him see the doctor, tells him "That's what he's prescribed." 

I was undermedicated for pain with the cellulitis last year.  If it wasn't for my infection control doctor while I was in the hospital (God bless him, he rocked) I would have spent my entire hospital stay wracked with pain. 

In 2000/2001 pain management became a big issue within the health care field and a lot of doctors are helping their patients.  It seems this asshole doesn't give a rats ass if you're in pain.   

In fact, it seems like he's punishing me for refusing to undergo Gastric Bypass Surgery.  He hurts me, and I understand that exams may be uncomfortable, but there is no reason to push your fucking knuckles, multiple times, into a person who is already in pain. 

I'm done with him.  I'm getting my records transferred elsewhere, I'm finding a doctor who sees me as a person, not just as my fat.  I want a doctor who takes my pain seriously.  I've been in pain constantly for almost five years, now.  I've gotten pretty much used to the hip, leg, and back pain.  I can deal with that on most days. 

It's when other things start to hurt, that it sends me over the edge.  I can't concentrate, I can't think.  No matter how I sit or lay, I hurt.   

Tony filled my prescription for the Lortab, I took double of what he prescribed, which is still 1/3 less than what I was on and my chest is just throbbing.   

Now I'm afraid to see another doctor.  I don't want to be seen as drug seeking.  I don't want to be denied the fucking medication that makes me able to semifunction.  I did call another doctor, I have to go down there and sign a release form so the hospital can't send them my test results (which is something that quack doctor didn't bother to do.)  I'm going to tell this doctor exactly what is going on and hope and pray that he's willing to help me. 

If he's not, I don't know what I'll do.  I can't continue to live like this.  This is no kind of life.  I'm at the end of my pain tolerance.  The addition of the chest shit is making the rest of my body unable to handle the normal pain I have.   

I'm at the end of my rope and the end of my tolerance for living this way. 
 

Suzy Smith