One of the most frustrating things for me about chronic conditions is dealing with the inevitable occasional (or not so occasional) ER visit.
Explaining that; No, these are not new symptoms. Yes, I do see several specialists regularly. Yes, I do know plenty about my condition and it’s several atypical manifestations that haven’t read the textbook that says they shouldn’t be happening.
I am the prime age and demographic to be seen in the Emergency Dept as a drug seeking frequent flier. How do I know? We have the EXACT same argument every time I eventually get to the point that my normal ten ton ration of daily meds is only the maintainer and I need to break the cycle of pain and misery. A reset button, if you will.
This week I actually had a pleasant experience that was exactly what I needed after dreading even admitting defeat and allowing myself to be dragged, kicking and whining the whole way, to get help. Maybe it was that I was in so much pain that I couldn’t help lashing out when it was asked the seventh or eighth time what the ER normally does for me. Maybe is was just a kick ass PA on for that shift (total shout out to the real-life McDreamy working a 12 hour 3rd shift!) who was courteous, listened, and took the time to listen and acknowledge that, hey, whadayaknow…I know a thing or two about my conditions and am fairly freaking intelligent even when I look like I’m having a stroke and slurring and stuttering on the simplest of words.
Sometimes that’s all it takes. A med reset, and a mind reset. I’m thankful for both this week.